“Sorry, who are you teaching?”
“The aliens.” She tilts her head in the direction of the table where they are sitting. It’s hard to miss them even though most of them are now wearing the dark blue of the colony. Their sizeand long pale hair makes them stand out, and that’s before the other weird stuff gets noted.
“Do you think they’ll be able to learn English? Do we know how smart they are?” will I be able to teach one of them how to use a washing machine?
“I was there when they were getting their medical. They paid attention to the scans and asked a lot of questions.” Grace leans in. “They were fascinated to see their internal organs. And one of them wanted to study the image that showed the heal break in his arm.”
Some of the humans sneered they were nothing but hulking barbarians who’d freak at the sight of technology, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Maybe that’s just what the guys were hoping, so there’d be less competition.
“I heard they don’t have sex until they find a mate,” Rochelle says in a low whisper. Not that anyone can overhear us over the hubbub of noise from all the other conversations happening—half of which are probably also about the aliens. “Because they mate for life.”
“Are you hoping to get yourself an alien?” I tease.
Rochelle shrugs. “At least they’ll stick around, instead of pushing to see what else they can get, or if they can have more than one woman.”
“I can’t believe you two keep dating men,” Grace whispers.
“I’m not.” I have resigned myself to the fact that it’s not going to happen. “But I’m not interested in dating women either. I wish I was.” That would make life so much easier.
I’ll end up raising my children with my sister and her children. My sister works in the kitchen, so our paths do not cross very often.
Laughter erupts from the aliens’ table. It’s the first noise I’ve heard from them.
One of the alien men touches another on his arm. His head tilts and I’m sure there is an entire conversation that passes in that moment.
“How come their mates aren’t sitting with them?” I ask without taking my gaze off the aliens.
“They’re being debriefed, apparently,” Grace says. She hears all the rumors first, working in the hospital. “Given how the aliens mate for life, and that there won’t be any human—alien babies, do you think the women will agree to having the first colony babies?”
“Will the aliens agree to raise human babies?” And how will the human fathers of those babies react even though they were the ones to ignore, or push aside, their prospective matches because they could do better? I guess with each man matched to three women, there is no pressure for them to commit and settle down.
“They must have, or why would they be here?” Rochelle asks.
I draw in a breath. “Well, one of them is going to be working with me, so I’ll be able to ask him some questions.”
“Ooh, which one?” Grace asks.
“The tall one with the beard.” Which describes all of them. “Yva.” I shrug and glance over at the table of aliens.
One of them turns around and stares at me, as if he heard me say his name. Is that Yva? The alien I’ll be teaching how to do laundry?
He holds my gaze for a couple of heartbeats, as if assessing me, then he gives me one of those tight-lipped smiles before returning his attention to his friends.
I only know that Yva is one of the unmated aliens, and thanks to Rochelle, that he is a virgin. I shouldn’t be curious, yet I now have a hundred questions about his tribe.
6
YVA
After so many years of hunting and fending for myself and my brothers, it is very strange to turn up at the dining hall and be given food. I’m not sure what I am eating as it is all prepared the human way. While dinner was good enough, breakfast is terrible.
Apparently, they brought seeds from their world to grow, but they aren’t having much success moving crops from what they called the greenhouse to the farm.
Instead of sitting around a fire after dinner and talking, and telling stories, we ended up returning to our rooms. In part because the humans stare, but also because we aren’t sure what we may do, or what the humans do in their spare time.
I intend to find out today.
After the almost inedible breakfast slop, I return to my room to await collection. Which gives me plenty of time to think about the woman who said my name last night at dinner. If she hadn’t been looking at our table, I might have brushed it off as a mishearing.
