Chapter 3
"You’re getting older, Kitty... fewer males are looking for you each day." He shrugs, as if that were a good excuse, and I want to curse him out, but our relationship is a tightrope, and it’s hard to know how far I can really go.
Just like me, Unob has a small pair of translators installed in his ears. They’re configured to understand everything the other says and convert it into the equivalent in their own language, while keeping the sound of my voice intact. He hears a translated version of me, and I hear one of him, but without losing our key characteristics. Even things like dates are quickly calculated and translated.
For example, my translator uses Earth time: for me, a year lasts 365 days, and there are weeks, which go from Monday to Sunday. But every culture has its own way of marking time and peculiarities, which are also translated, using an equivalent timeframe.
"I’ll be twenty-eight next month!" I exclaim, very annoyed.
Is Unob an asshole? Yes, but there are aliens who are even bigger assholes than him. I’ve never had to touch a male; I’ve been able to set a high price for clients to show me their dicks, which forces them to masturbate in private almost always. And if I don’t like something, I can simply end the call and ban the guy. So, even though my job sucks, I know there are human women out there who are literally being sold as snacks.
"Don’t worry, sweet human, this is good news! You should celebrate!" he says cheerfully, and I can’t even look at him, especially since I always think about the rotten fangs that should be coming out of his mouth.
"How is being replaced good news?" I’m so nervous that I feel the instant noodles wanting to come back up my throat.
Shit, shit, shit!
"I found a replacement because I got a husband for you, Kitty! His name is Kaleo Kin, and he’s very interested in meeting you!" he explains with the utmost naturalness, and I slowly turn my gaze to him, breathing in slow motion because Unob isn’t the type to joke about things like this.
"H-husband?"
"You know the planet Faleia, don’t you?" he asks while handing me his tablet. Well... it’s not exactly a tablet because it’s basically two rods projecting a hologram in a square format, but I like to call it a tablet because it reminds me of human shows. "Take it, you’ll thank me later," he insists, but after realizing I won’t accept anything from him, Unob expands the hologram and makes the screen float in front of us like a hovering TV.
"Have you heard of the faleus from the planet Faleia or not?"
Faleus are aliens known for making panties wet all across the galaxy—or whatever people use to cover their private parts. They have a body very similar to a human’s, except they have four arms, are red, and have black hair.
Do I find that attractive? I’m not sure, but they’re definitely admired everywhere because they’re usually very rich and great in bed, according to what I’ve heard. And most importantly: Faleus, unlike most aliens I’ve met, aren’t prone to violence. They come from a planet in the Fifth Sector, so they’re very advanced, polite, and calm.
Earth, for example, is in the Second Sector, which means we’re barbaric idiots to them.
"Everyone knows the faleus." I shrug and finally manage to focus enough to read what’s written on the hologram, even though I’m still very nervous and have an immense knot in my stomach.
"Recruitment of Human Females. This is your last chance to become a valued companion!"
Below the title of the article, they placed a bunch of photos of massive males, probably about 2.10 meters tall, with four extremely muscular arms and a dazzling white smile on a completely blue face.
"Why humans? What is this?" I ask, still very lost.
Normally, nobody cares about us. We’re only remembered for having crappy technology and for our meat, which apparently tastes good, according to some horrifying aliens.
"A study came out showing that faleus are extremely compatible with humans for reproduction, and everyone knows they have very few females. The situation is so critical that brothers are having to share the same wife to continue the lineage, so they opened applications for humans to move to Faleia!" Unob continues talking, overly enthusiastic.
His eyes practically shine while I want to sink into the bed, still praying this is just a dream.
Have I ever dreamed of having a husband? Yes. I’ve consumed a million Earth rom-coms and teenage movies; I can recite Twilight from start to finish, and Beauty and the Beast is my favorite animated movie because it’s romantic and kind of dark at the same time.
But space isn’t a Disney movie, and I know for sure that nothing good will come from a marriage between a human and an alien, especially one for reproductive purposes.
"And you want me to become a baby machine for them?" I frown, horrified at whatever this son of a bitch is planning.
"If you read it carefully, you'll understand what I'm talking about." He adjusts the hologram to show me another page with more text in English, the only language aliens believe humans speak.
"The human female must be in good health, her body must be in perfect condition, and she will assume the responsibility of bearing at least one child for her husband. The reward is 20 million brons for each year spent on Faleia."
"Twenty million brons, Kitty!" Unob repeats the text out loud.
My earnings this year, which is almost over, were less than 20,000 brons. So with 20 million, I think I could live comfortably for the rest of my life. Last year, I managed to earn 45,000 brons, and that was considered a very good year.
But there's a part that worries me even more: the phrase "her body must be in perfect condition." Technically, my health is very good—I exercise regularly and take my vitamins. I only have one issue: my lack of hair, which could ruin everything.
It doesn't matter if the Faleans are from a more advanced planet; it could still mean they're just as much bastards as any other being in the universe—just with more technology and money. They might even prefer tall, slim women since that seems common among their females.
"I don't know if this is a good idea…"
Unob is fully aware of my accident; he even paid the doctor who examined me to make sure I wasn’t about to kick the bucket. So he knows exactly what I'm talking about.
"You don’t have to worry about that. I already signed you up, and I bet they'll have the technology to fix whatever you want. They’ll give you all the hair you need!" He stands up, clearly wanting to end the conversation, and closes the hologram with a few taps in the air.
"WHAT?!" I scream even louder than Edward earlier.
Holy crap, this can't be real! That bastard is basically kicking me off his ship!
"You're a great candidate, Kitty." He places his hand on my shoulder, trying to smooth things over, and the hairs on my arm stand on end with disgust.
Gross, gross, gross!
I know it's all in my head since the skin he’s wearing is good, but I can almost see the giant cockroach underneath. On the ship where I was born, humans accidentally brought a few roaches from Earth decades before my birth, and they reproduced like crazy.
"Your application has already been approved, and they promised me 10 million brons for recommending you."
"Ten million just for recommending me?!"
This giant insect is always screwing me over when it comes to money. So if the yearly reward is 20 million, he’ll probably want at least 90%, and we don’t even know if the Faleans will freak out once they discover I lost all my hair in an accident.
"No, the 20 million brons are all yours. I only keep my 10." He reveals this, and I have to stare at him hard to see if I can catch any hint of a lie. Of course, I find nothing and just end up inhaling more of his weird smell.
Why wasn’t I born on Earth, surrounded only by humans? What a huge mess! Did I really have to be the child of a woman who got abducted?
"I’ll transfer the money to your account as soon as you board the ship tomorrow since I already have it. They really liked you, Kitty," he informs me, and my eyes widen so much they hurt.
A sharp chill hits the pit of my stomach, and my insides twist.
"Tomorrow? Already?" I ask, trying to get more details out of the bastard, but he just leaves the hologram with me to read more about the application before pretending he has some urgent commitment to avoid me.