So I get back to it. “I know you’re a convict on the run from Homeworld.” His eyes narrow and he watches me, mouth flat. I rush on, eager to get my piece out before he decides to run for it. “I don’t care about that. Not really. But a scary reputation helps me. You know about the human situation here on Risda?” Before he can respond, I continue on, as if he doesn’t know. “There were a lot of us rescued from a station that specialized in humans. Your government didn’t know what to do with us and won’t send us home, so they dumped us here on Risda and allotted each woman a farm and some basic equipment. It’s not much, but it’s mine.”
He grunts.
“Humans aren’t the only ones hiding out in this system, though, and there’s some that view us humans as easy prey. I know several women that established their farm, only to get murdered and their land claimed by another.”
His jaw clenches. “How’s that work?”
“There’s inheritance laws on the land here,” I say to him, crossing my arms over my chest and gazing out at the fields of grains that sway in the gentle breeze. “If I marry someone and I die, my land goes to my spouse. There’s a lot of women being married under duress and showing up murdered. And I’m pretty sure I’m next.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I watch what goes on,” I tell him. “There’s little in my part of the world that I don’t know about. My neighbor Melissa was one of my good friends and she needed a spouse. I did, too. We tossed around the idea of marrying each other just to safeguard our land. Next thing I know, she marries a praxiian and turns up dead.”
“Maybe she fell in love.”
“With a praxiian?” I fight back my glare, wanting to reach over and smack him on the head. I’ve met several of the cat-like race and while I’m sure there are some that are kind, I haven’t met them. To a one, they’re violent and murderous. “That same praxiian has been bothering me when I go into port. He shows up on my farm and takes measurements. I know he’s got an eye on my lands, and I’d prefer not to end up in a shallow grave.”
“So you want me to get you pregnant?” Vordigar looks openly skeptical. “To save your land?”
“Actually I want us to get married. Then you can have half of everything I have. A baby will just cement things further and prevent both of us from getting killed.”
“Or they kill you and the kid, too.”
I swallow hard. “Once everyone knows we’re married and have a child on the way, they’ll stop harassing us. There’s easier prey out there. Plus, your reputation as a convict will make people afraid to mess with you. As an added incentive, I’ve heard that a convict—even an escaped one—that marries one of the human women here can’t get sent back to prison. My need for you will supersede the law on that particular item. Ask your friend Tassar.”
That’s right, I’ve done all my homework. Now agree to this.
Vordigar eyes me. Hard. His gaze lands on my tits again. I wore a dress that emphasizes them, because I wanted to make sure the peace officers were distracted, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt things to look decent for Vordigar to try and convince him to take part in my plan. Tits are just another weapon in my arsenal, and if it means looking a little busty, I’ll do it. “I can’t make you pregnant. I’m mesakkah.”
“And I’m human. I noticed.” Oh, no one ever lets me forget how much humans are scorned and looked down upon out here in the big, vast, dangerous universe. We’re one step up from sentient blow-up dolls and treated worse than some people treat their dogs. “Our species aren’t compatible without outside assistance. I paid a lot to get a fertility shot that adjusts my body to accept your sperm. I have a very small window in which it works, though, and it’ll be closing in about a week.”
He just stares. “Kef me.”
“That’s the plan.”
He doesn’t laugh at my joke. Instead, he rubs his jaw, thinking.
I remain cool and calm. Getting hysterical won’t help things. I’m past hysterics anyhow. At this point, I’m down to cold, hard practicality. If he doesn’t want to do this, I have to turn around and go right back to that jail and try someone else. It’ll destroy my soul a bit, but I’ll do it if I have to. Vordigar isn’t my only option…he’s just the most pleasant one. He’s mesakkah, which is a race that’s generally well liked and also the ruling race of Risda III. That helps things. He’s not a murderer. He looks dangerous. He’s got friends here…and he’s got a reason to need to take me up on my offer. Those are all useful things, but if he says no, I won’t give up.