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Both of us stare at the starlit space. “What do you think?” I ask.
A low rumble forms from Vraik’s throat. “He promised me a bride. That’s what I think,” he says.
“Yes,” I state. “Maybe we were getting ahead of ourselves. She is far too cunning.”
There’s nothing worse than agreeing to a trap.
“Maybe we can find another,” Vraik says. “There are other women.”
“And go back to Earth?” I ask. "No. That is not an option.”
Even if it were, I don’t think I’d want to go back.
As much as I disagreed with Lök’s plan, once I saw her, I understood his obsession. She is rarer than Resnyx, and the energy she gives is radiant.
She is the polar opposite of everything I know to be true of my race. Resnyx isn’t our ticket to freedom. She is.
There is no need to step foot on Earth again. We will take their Resnyx, drain their water sources, and get rid of all evidence of its existence.
But we have to persuade her to go against her own people.
“We will just have to share her,” I admit.
“Well, you called it,” Vraik says.
I shrug. “Is it that bad to share?” I ask.
Before females were banished, it was not uncommon for royal elites to share brides. A diverse gene pool provides a family with strength.
It is the way a species can continue to dominate.
“She is defiant and nothing like the women from our planet,” he says.
“She will learn to behave.”
Beneath every stupid plan is a great
idea. Ours just needs a little reformulating. We can make this work.
Before Vraik can utter a response, I realize the greatness of Lök’s idea. If we pull this off, not only will we control the Resnyx. We will be the only lower class scum with children.
I smile and start to laugh.
Vraik’s eyes crease. “What is it?”
There was never a problem with overpopulation. The Ubaran Empire banished the women to force the poor to sign up to mine. We work, believing they will be rewarded with mates. We are naïve.
“Intergalactic law,” I whisper, shaking my head.
“What are you talking about?” Vraik groans.
“If you have a child, you no longer have to work. That’s the law,” I tell him.
Those with kin are granted a life of peace. They are allowed to exist outside the internal mechanisms of our parasitic planet.
Vraik’s eyes light up like a birthday cake. A dumb smile curls across his face. “It’s an automatic win,” he says.
Those who mate, get everything. If we succeed, we will be immune.
