Alien Bride

He leaves, vehicle loudly barreling toward the heavens.

When he’s gone, Lök digs through his pack again. He pulls out some meat and berries. All of us dig in like hungry animals, except for Emma.

Reluctantly, she takes a bite and scowls.

“Eat,” Rekker says, mouth full. “You need all the strength you can get.”

Holding her nose, she swallows the food down in one single bite and lurches forward.

“It’s disgusting,” she says. “What is it?”

We chuckle.

“You don’t want to know,” Lök says.

It’s Garantine meat, a small four-legged animal that thrives on filth. Everyone eats it on the outside cities. The hand-picked berries are to squelch the taste, but apparently human taste buds are stronger than ours.

The others eat, but I sit off to the side with her, enjoying this time away, despite the risk. If I die tomorrow, so be it. At least I get to experience her now.

She lies back against the concrete, eyes positioned toward that statue of the goddess of fertility. I reach out and brush Emma’s hair, breathing her scent as she relaxes.

“What really happened here?” she asks.

How can I tell her without her misunderstanding? Earth has not gone through these late stages of civilization, yet. But, as they grow in strength, they will need to expand their scope toward the cosmos. That’s when things get a little tricky.

I believe we can trust her now. It is time to tell her our story as best I can.

“For some time, there was peace. There was no single ruler, no emperor to command the planet. Over time, our race was let down. Resources dwindled,” I say. “There were many rebellions. Small wars were fought, won, and lost. There were no clear victors, but all three of us lived by the sword. For many, Slain was a suitable leader. Unafraid of death, he fought hard, and we helped him secure victory.”

Lök tosses a piece of meat aside, angrily. “That is my biggest regret.”

I have mixed feelings about the rebellions. It led to so much devastation. But we were promised a better life. What were we supposed to do?

“No one could have guessed the planet would have turned out like this,” I say.

“Bullshit,” Lök sneers. “We saw what his men did, and we kept fighting.”

Rekker shakes his head. “At that point, if we defected, we would have been hunted. We had no choice.”

Emma tries to understand, but she appears confused.

I remember it all. Warfare. The heat of firebombs and bullets. The screams.

I wag my head, pushing the terrible images out of my mind. “Slain’s men killed innocent aliens without batting an eye. We watched as entire villages turned to scorched ruins. Families were separated in crucial areas, split to divide our race in half. The rich took power. The poor, us, started to see the reality. We were being pushed aside, systematically. And once that began, there was no going back,” I say.

Lök places his hand on my shoulder. He knows what I’m feeling. We all know, except for Emma. But she is wise. She has empathy.

“Before the rebellions,” she says, “what was it like here?”

I suck in a breath and try to remember. It’s been so long, it’s like I’ve completely forgotten. But as I filter through my memories, it all comes back to me.

“We were a fertility planet, based around the worship of womb and seed. Women were our goddesses, as you can see,” I say.

“But women are rare now,” she says.

“That was Slain’s decision,” Rekker says.

I nod. “In the golden era, alpha’s appetites were full, and women were cherished. Slain would not keep the status-quo. The bastard claimed overpopulation was the reason for our planet’s slow demise. So, with the help of most citizens, he fought to round up all of the females, using them only for their child-rearing. The rest were disposed,” I say.