“So, join us for jolly-making on Earth, where all your humanoid female fantasies can become digestible food.”
Izotz reached to pause the recording. “No. I’ve heard enough. I’m not eating females.”
“You know what the translator means.” Edur frowned. He was right. Izotz knew that not many people spoke the Sintazian language, so the translators were often comically wrong. Though, it was usually enough to get the gist of what was being relayed. “It’s not a food service. It’s a bridal service.”
Edur pressed the button to resume the recording.
“Earth has a breathable sky, food you can put in your heart, and…” The translator began speaking in an alien language as if the words could not be translated.
“Don’t worry, it stops that in a second,” Edur assured him.
“I wasn’t worried.” Izotz reached for his food. The fact it was cold put him in a grumpier mood.
“…officially discovered life forms not of their own planet but are humanoid compactible and ready for travel to their new homes,” the translation continued.
“Compactible?” Tushar frowned, his demeanor changing. “They squish down?”
“Wait, a detailed image scan is coming up.” Edur’s excitement didn’t die amongst the doubts of his brothers.
“Upon mate selection, all necessary papers will be given to the Earth government and transport will be taken upon us, as you leave the planet with your new?—”
“Digestible food,” Izotz said over the translator. Tushar laughed.
“Those wishing to stay on Earth will be provided with manly identity.”
Izotz again turned off the translator. “No.”
“You haven’t seen their pictures,” Edur insisted.
“I don’t need to. Why would we leave?” Izotz asked. “We have everything we need. This is our home.”
Edur stood and walked to the entry of their ice hut. He grabbed both handles and pulled the two doors open to reveal the barren landscape of snowdrifts and ice cliffs. He gestured his arms at the vast stretch of nothingness.
“That is the only reasonable argument you have made,” Izotz said.
Edur shut the doors.
They were isolated, three of the very few who remained on the frozen globe of their home world. Many of the settlers had left with the ESC scientists who came to survey the landscape. For some reason, the alien organization wanted to set up base and start a hundred-year-long project mining fifteen-thousand feet below the planet’s surface to test mineral compounds. Most of that time would be spent going through thousands of years of compacted snow, ice, and whatever else happened to have crashed on the planet to be forgotten. Rumor had it alien spaceships were buried all over the place. Those who hadn’t hitched a ride with the ESC had found work on cargo ships hauling cold storage.
“Option one.” The translator began speaking again. Tushar had turned it on.
Izotz glanced at the image of a humanoid woman. She stood, arms to her sides, rotating in a slow circle. Her clothing fit tight to her body and her brown hair fell long down her back.
“They’re tinted strangely,” Tushar observed, noting the non-blue of their flesh.
“Option two.” Another woman replaced the first image. This one had lighter hair, which grew high over her head. Her gown sparkled.
“At least they have the right number of limbs,” Izotz said.
“Option three.” The third woman held a rectangular object in her hands and wore black-rimmed eye protectors. She opened the rectangle to show alien words written inside. Her lips moved slightly as she read. “Option four.” This time it showed a redhead in tight black clothing with smoke coming from her lips. “Option five.” The woman wore two strips of clothing, over her chest and hips.
“Three,” Izotz said. As more options appeared, the image of that woman stayed with him. “I will order option three.”
Edur laughed. “I knew you would change your mind.”
“I want five,” Tushar said. “And two.”
“Don’t be greedy,” Izotz scolded. “Take option two. Five will never survive our weather in her traditional garb.”
