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First shoves his finger in my face. “I will not stand here and tolerate your disrespect for your elders and forebearers.”

I step forward, forcing him to lower his hand. “Then get out of my way and let me do my mission.”

First hisses, steam curling from between his teeth, and then he shoves a tablet against my chest. “Here. Your female to target. Her DNA profile is ideal. Get in. Impregnate her. Report in regularly about gestational successes and failures.” His lips tilt cruelly. “Emphasis on failures. We will be watching.”

“Then you will have a fronts row seat to my success.”

I turn, get in the shuttle, and slam the door shut behind me.

* * *

Hours later, sights and scents bombard me. The location device in my ear calls out directions but I cannot orient myself.

Everywhere I look, primitives crowd me. Humans. There are…just so many of them.

I studied tirelessly for this mission. I watched projection after projection of media we gathered from the planet, both audio and visual. Humans are strange and curious and violent creatures.

Learning their language was only a matter of a scan in the med bay. While there are seven thousand spoken on the planet, it was determined we only needed to download the top twenty.

I thought I was prepared.

But as I walk down the streets of a city called Sacramento in the kingdom of California to the coordinates I was given, I can barely separate the sky from the architecture. The buildings tower above me at dizzying heights. Our cities back on Draci were far grander, but I rarely spent time in them and I am young. Most of my life has been spent on the Salvation Ship.

“Well hey, good-lookin,’” a female calls out as I pass by. I startle and pause when I realize she is talking to me. She sits on the stoop of a dwelling with several other females, some of them with white sticks in their mouths, smoke curling from the ends.

“Damn, we got ourselves a Channing Tatum look-alike,” says one with massive amounts of poofy brown hair. Hair is still something I am getting used to. I can barely manage the short crop on my head. How can she deal with so much?

“Naw, he’s cuter,” says another. “And look at those muscles. Channing Tatum wishes he was as hot as this guy.”

I pause. Hot? Being bound in so many coverings is uncomfortable but I do not think my temperature is elevated.

Although, considering how little the women sitting on the stoop are wearing, perhaps covering oneself in so much cloth is not as important as my commander seemed to think it was. Almost all of their skin is on display.

One of them jumps up and comes towards me. I take a step back, adopting a battle stance. I have trained extensively in several battle styles should the need arise on this mission.

“Take my picture with him,” the female says, then she slings her small arm around my neck and looks back towards her friends.

“Smile, honey,” calls one who holds a small, clunky primitive tablet out towards us. Could it be a weapon? If so, why is her companion standing so close to me?

“I don’t think this one is gonna smile, hoe,” says the female holding the device, laughing. “He’s too GQ model for you.”

“Just take the damn picture,” says the female from beside me.

“One, two, three.”

“One more, I was blinking!”

“Jesus, Marie.

“Just take it!”

“Fine.”

I begin to extricate myself from the female. I do not think she means me harm but she is impeding my mission. “I have somewhere I need to be.”

“Aw, are you sure you don’t want to hang out with us a little?” asks the female who has now plastered herself to my side.

I have never been so close to a human. It is not a very pleasant experience.

She smells. Strongly. Of what I cannot say. It is not a scent I have ever encountered before. But it is pungent and I do not like it.

I do not like the look in her eyes either, or how she has painted her face, or how she has gripped onto me without my permission.

“I am leaving now.” I peel her hands off of my arm and stride away as quickly as I can.

I frown deeply as I walk. My mission requires me to be extremely close to a human female. How have I not considered the actual nature of my assignment before? I will have to touch one of these creatures. I will have to touch them intimately.

I edge the tip of my tongue out of my mouth to investigate my surroundings and immediately pull it back in, shuddering. This world is foul. Yes, we have begun work to clean it up for the humans but…

What if First is right? Do we really want to befoul our race by mixing with these creatures?


Tags: Stasia Black Draci Alien Science Fiction