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Heather smacked her knee. “You do like him.”

“It’s a physical thing. I can’t help myself when I’m around him.”

“It sounds like he’s the same with you,” Heather said. “You’re as bad as each other.”

“I don’t want to be with him. It would mess everything up if I was. I love it here. I love working with you. It’s so satisfying matching people who are looking for a mate. I like making people get all excited when they meet their mate.”

“It’s a fun part of the job,” Heather said. “But it’s not without its stresses. Don’t forget, we are spinning through space in a massive chunk of metal. Just last month, there was that near miss with a comet. Wouldn’t you like to be somewhere a bit more stable? Somewhere where we won’t turn into space dust with no warning because some idiot presses the wrong button?”

Vegas glanced at the star chart on Heather’s wall. They both loved the stars. Even though space travel was new to humans, she’d always found it exciting. Vegas hadn’t hesitated when the offer came up to go to the space station and lead on My Single Alien. She’d known it was a risk, but Vegas wanted to see if she could make it work. Now that she had, she didn’t want to let it go.

Heather refilled their wine glasses. “I get it. Space is a lonely place to be. You’re going to face temptation. Some of the aliens coming through the Glory Hole are incredible. Remember that seven foot Nooke? I almost fainted from lust when I saw his image on our screen.”

Vegas chuckled. “They aren’t bad to look at. There are supposed to be a dozen of them arriving in a few months.”

“I’ll need to keep a tight grip on my ovaries when they get here. My panties melted every time I heard his deep voice. It had a hypnotic quality to it.”

“Make sure you do. I don’t want to lose you and your ovaries to a Nooke. Aren’t you worried about the horns?” That was an interesting characteristic of the Nooke. They’d evolved horns, much like some mammals on Earth. They were used as a display of strength, prowess, and for fighting.

The first time Vegas had seen a Nooke, she hadn’t been able to stop from staring. Two solid horns had stuck out of his large brow ridge, twisting in a curve over the top of his head. He’d worn them with immense pride, and rightly so; he’d been gorgeous.

“The horns have their uses,” Heather said. “You’d need something to grip when mating with a Nooke if they’re big in all areas of their anatomy.”

Vegas wrinkled her nose. “They are. I checked the Nooke’s medical records.”

Heather fanned her face. “I think I got a little bit pregnant at that thought.”

“You can try one out the next time we have a Nooke on board, so long as you promise not to fall in love with him.”

“I wouldn’t mind having fun with one,” Heather said. “Like you, I’m happy working for My Single Alien. I’m not ready to settle down. Besides, my fertility tests show I’ve got a few good years before everything starts going downhill.”

“The same here,” Vegas said. “Why rush things?”

Heather was silent, swirling the wine in her glass. “You don’t think it’s selfish?”

“That we give up our independence for a life of childbearing with an alien? No.” Vegas looked away. She knew how important breeding was to aliens. It wasn’t just Galaxars who had trouble conceiving. Humans were lucky. They’d avoided all intergalactic wars because of their inability to fight in space. They were relatively unharmed and untouched by what occurred on the other side of the Glory Hole. Other races were not so fortunate and suffered as a result.

“If I found the right alien, I might be tempted,” Heather said. “I could come to an arrangement with Diadora. You never know; she’s so desperate to keep staff, she might let me work part-time and bring up my alien babies.”

“She’d never do that. It would mean breaking one of her precious rules.”

“We’re understaffed as it is,” Heather said. “So many women go down the breeding route.”

“More fool them for not having any ambition.”

“Is it ambition?” Heather queried. “Are you maybe a bit scared?”

“Of having kids?”

“Of having kids with an alien.”

“No. I mean, loads of women have done it. We have all the drugs and medical care we need to ensure a safe pregnancy and birth. There’s nothing to fear.”

“It feels very grown-up,” Heather said, “considering having a child. Most of the time, I still feel like a teenager. How am I supposed to rear an alien baby successfully? What if the baby grows up and looks at me as some kind of genetic failing? They could see me as a primitive throwback like some aliens do.”

“Most of them don’t say it to our faces, though,” Vegas said. “They know if they do, they’ll get thrown out of here and never get the opportunity to come back.” The comments by Solan about humans being a primitive race grated on her. He was right, but he didn’t need to throw it in her face. Humans might be primitive, but they had a commodity many aliens desired.

“You should talk to Solan,” Heather said. “He might not understand what you’re feeling.”