But this female with big, sad eyes has asked me to stay.
To get her pregnant.
To farm with her.
Keffing hell. I’m not a farmer. Being a lowlife thief and a grunt is all I’m good at. I’m the wrong male for this job. If she knew my history, she’d know that, too. I need to tell her no. The timing’s all wrong. Maybe if she’d have approached me a month ago, when I was desperate and low on credits, I’d have jumped at the chance.
A farm AND all the kinky human sex I want? That’s the dream of half the galaxy. I have to admit it’s been so keffing long since I’ve had sex that my seed’s probably nothing but dust. Even now, sex sounds good. Sex sounds real, real good. And I’ve never had a human before. I’m curious. Any male would be.
Except…I can’t say yes to her. I have job offers. Much better job offers than what she’s throwing in my direction. I can’t possibly say yes. Not when I have the opportunity to turn my life around and make a quick fortune.
I just don’t have the guts to tell her ‘no’ just yet. Not when she watches me with those hopeful dark eyes. I can’t tell her no to her face. Maybe I’ll steal away in the middle of the night, when she’s not looking at me with such hope and grim determination. Slink away like the lowlife scum I am and forget I ever met that little bit of a human.
We park the air-sled and she gives me a quick tour around the place, watching me with those hopeful eyes. I try to be judgmental, to pick apart the place and find things wrong with it but…it’s a good farm. She’s got a nice plot of land bordered by a flowing stream, and the fields are even and stretch as far as the eye can see. Her meat-stock are penned in a nearby pasture and the animals are fat and healthy. She’s got a few mechs and drones gifted to her that do the majority of the farm work and all she has to do is keep them programmed and monitored. I’m a little surprised to see that her mechs are well-cared for, as much as everything else. A lot of people let their mechs go to shit because they’re just a tool. Not this little bit of a human, though. She’s meticulous in everything.
The human—Piper—shows me the house next. It’s a small, domed dwelling, designed to stay cool in the summer and warm in the winter. The interior is a little cramped, but she’s made it comfortable with her cast-off furniture and lots and lots of colorful wall hangings. There’s a tiny kitchen, a living area with a large window that looks out onto the fields, and one bedroom.
“Kinda small for a family, don’t you think?” I tease her.
She lifts her chin, defiant. “I purchased a construction kit to add a room or two. I just haven’t gotten to it yet. There’s only so many hours in the day and just one of me. It’s another reason to get married—to get help.” Her hard expression softens. “But mostly just to have someone to talk to.”
Kef me, she knows how to tug at my heart strings. I can handle sass and defiance. I can’t handle that sadness in her eyes. I rub at my neck, gazing at the small house. I need to tell her no. That I’m not staying. That I can’t stay. I’ve got a fortune to make elsewhere.
“Do you want to wash up? I’ve got a shower and the water tanks are full. You can take as long as you like.” Piper heads toward the bedroom and opens the door, then leads me toward the wash room.
I’m a weak male, because of course I want a shower. I’ve spent days in that stinking jail, caged up with strangers—and meat-stock—and I’d love nothing more than to get clean. She offers me a towel and I take it. “Thanks.”
“Of course. I’m offering you half of everything. The least I can do is let you clean up.” Her mouth twitches as if she wants to laugh, but then it’s gone soon enough. She leaves the room and closes the door behind her.
I’m alone in her bedroom, and while I glance around, there’s nothing salacious here. She has a small trunk for her clothing, a bed that’s barely wide enough for two people, and not much else. There’s a vid-screen on the wall but it’s an old model. Actually, everything she has is an older model, and I suspect a lot of these humans were given cast-offs just as lip service. No one really cares if they’re successful or not, and that eats at me. My sense of justice is bristling, but I have to fight it back.