Chapter Nine

Between patients, Verity familiarized herself with the equipment, and Dr. Twygg continued to fill her in on things she would need to know. His compassion and helpfulness impressed her tremendously. He was such a caring doctor. It would have been a tragic loss for the world not to have him.

He’d been able to escape death and pursue his dreams, but she remained aghast at the dilemma his people faced—males sacrificing their lives to perpetuate the species. If all men did what Dr. Twygg had done, phasmids would cease to exist.

She couldn’t help questioning whether female phasmids were truly incapable of resisting the urge to kill their sexual partners. Of course, Dr. Twygg knew his people far better than she, but what if killing wasn’t an unavoidable involuntary biologically programmed reflex? What if the females could control it?

What if mariticide occurred to ensure the matriarchy? Snuffing out men in their prime would prevent them from ascending to power. People liked to say, “Believe all women,” but that was bullshit in her humble opinion. Women lied all the time about all sorts of shit. She herself had lied, although she’d done so for the best of reasons.

Trust but verify made much more sense.

Her short time on Refuge had opened her eyes and made her appreciate humanity. Humans had it pretty darn good. The Dorns’ attempt to take her son had been harrowing, but it had been a fluke. She’d gotten involved with the wrong man, the wrong family. Some aliens had tragic lives from the get-go.

She was also struck by how alien aliens could be. She felt fortunate Cosmic Mates matched her with a human . When she’d agreed to accept an alien as a husband, she’d been desperate to escape Earth, so she hadn’t put enough thought into her choice of a husband and compatibility. In hindsight, she realized she should have listed some dealbreakers. She never would have been happy with a polypus, for instance. And as much as she respected and liked Dr. Twygg, she would not choose to marry a phasmid.

She shuddered at the tragic reverse, an unsuspecting human guy getting matched to a female phasmid. Orgasm had been referred to as a “little death.” What an apt description .

Life on Earth had been precarious, but they were on Refuge now, and everything had worked out. Brody was safe—and if today’s lunch served as an indication, happy. He’d chattered nonstop about his classmates and Ms. Jularee, and he’d been fascinated by a lesson on cyborgs.

“Did you know cyborgs aren’t born, they’re built by scientists and raised in tanks?”

“No, I didn’t know.” She’d never thought about it. “Eat your lunch.”

“They’re like superhumans, but you can’t tell the difference between an ordinary human and a cyborg.”

“I didn’t know that either.”

“And I bet you didn’t know Earth was the only planet with cyborgs.”

Since they were super human , it made sense. “Nope,” she humored him.

“But nobody has them anymore because they’re all dead .”

“What do you mean?”

“One company owned them all, but they had to destroy them because of the massacre.”

That kind of information had seemed a little heavy for a six-year-old. “Ms. Jularee told you all this? ”

“Not that part. One of the big kids did.” Older kids speaking of matters inappropriate for younger children was one of the pitfalls of an all-in-one class. But how else could they handle schooling when there were only thirteen children? Fourteen, rather. She recalled Willa and George’s latest bundle of joy.

“Do you know what a massacre is?” she asked.

“It’s when somebody kills a whole bunch of people for no good reason. They run in, and they cut their heads off!” he said while karate-chopping the air.

“It’s murder, and it’s nothing to be excited about. Innocent people die.”

“Sorry.”

After lunch and the recitation of everything he’d learned about cyborgs, she’d walked him to his class and returned to work. Considering the source of his information, she wondered if the part about the massacre was even true.

There had been a massacre recently—in Chicago, USA. The city’s mayor and the people in her office had been killed. But had cyborgs been responsible? She couldn’t recall. Her troubles with the Dorns had just begun when the assassinations occurred, so she’d been preoccupied and hadn’t paid a lot of attention to the news. But Brody had ignited her curiosity, and she jotted a mental note to research the Chicago massacre when she got a chance.

As enthralled as her son had been by cyborgs, she was fascinated by the alien patients and the manifestations of their ailments and injuries. Perhaps, in time, she would see them as the routine cases they were, but each one seemed new and exciting. How many nurses got to treat aliens? What an opportunity! The afternoon flew by, and, before long, the time had come to get married.

After work, she dashed to the cabin to change out of her uniform. Even though it would be a perfunctory ceremony to seal their marriage of convenience, she considered it important and wished to treat it as such. She’d misled Cosmic Mates and Fury to get here, but she intended to compensate by being the best wife she could be. A second chance to make a good impression.

With a few minutes to spare, she jumped into the shower then changed into a long-sleeved, green-brocade tunic over seafoam leggings. A light coat of cosmetics brought some color to her face, and a quick brush and fluff set her hair to rights .

She slipped her feet into a pair of newish silver ankle boots she saved for special occasions. I guess a wedding counts. She attached silver earrings to her lobes.

Lastly, she donned her heavy coat and left the cabin.

A conveyance was parked outside the office, so she assumed the officiant had arrived. A human woman clutching a small bouquet of artificial flowers wrapped in white ribbons and streamers waited outside. Was she getting married, too?

“Verity?” the woman greeted her with a smile. “I’m Honoria Foster.”

“Oh! Nice to meet you. You’re the other human woman. I’ve heard about you.” She wondered why she carried a bridal bouquet. Wasn’t the woman already married?

She laughed. “Not many of us humans around.”

A gust of strong wind grabbed at their coats and threatened to topple them over. So much for fixing my hair.

“Why don’t we step inside the office and get out of the wind?” Honoria suggested.

“That’s where I’m headed.”

“I know. I came to tell you Mike will be a little late. ”

Why was she telling her and not Fury himself? It also struck her that Honoria called Verity’s fiancé by his given name, while she still referred to him as Fury. She wasn’t jealous, but it emphasized how little she knew her own soon-to-be husband.

They ducked inside. Phibious wasn’t there, but a three-eyed purple woman, a female version of Gozar, perched on a desk. “You must be Verity!” she chirped. “I’m Juju, your Cosmic Mates wedding officiant.”

“Hi!” She removed her coat and combed her fingers through her now-messy hair. “The groom is, uh, late, I guess.” She glanced at Honoria.

“Dusty called me and said the men were delayed by a broken axle out on the range and asked me to pass on that Mike was on his way.”

That made it a little better.

“Broke an axle? Was my brother Gozar driving the conveyance?” Juju tittered.

“By the way, this is for you.” Honoria handed Verity the bouquet. “The climate here stunts vegetation growth. Plants do flower, but they produce tiny little blooms—nothing you can pick, so we can’t get real flowers, but Maven occasionally stocks some artificial ones. I put together a bouquet for you.”

“How sweet and thoughtful!” Verity hugged her .

“I came to welcome you,” Honoria said. “Mike and Jason are best buddies, and I’m hoping you and I can become friends, too.”

“I would like that.”

“Mike was thrilled you were coming. Every time you got delayed, he was so disappointed.”

Probably still was. He’d desired a wife, not a kid. He hadn’t been expecting a package deal. He wouldn’t break their contract but intended to annul their marriage when they’d satisfied the residency requirements. Can I blame him? Not everybody likes kids, let alone other people’s kids.

“And now you’re here.” Juju exhaled a dramatic sigh. “It’s so romantic.”

Uh, not quite, but she wouldn’t dash the officiant’s illusions.

“I love working for Cosmic Mates, bringing the right people together to live happily ever after.”

“It worked for me and Jason,” Honoria said. “It was a challenge marrying a stranger at first, and we hit a few bumps, but we have no regrets. Jason is the best thing to happen to me.”

“That’s good to hear.” Given her situation, she’d settle for safety, security, and friendship. She did not see love in her near future. Perhaps not ever. That’s a dismal thought.

Honoria’s eyes glinted with an odd light. “You and Mike probably haven’t had a chance to talk much.”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Jason and Mike arrived together. They are good men . Decent men. I believe that absolutely.”

Okay…why the emphasis on good ? Shouldn’t decency be a given? Or maybe Honoria meant to emphasize the man part. Jason Steel had been the patient whose internal injuries had healed themselves, impossible for a human. But other species could do it—George’s tentacle would regenerate. Maybe Steel had a little alien DNA in him. Did Fury have the same?

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Verity said.

“Sure…” Honoria sounded hesitant.

“Is your Jason fully human? Or is he part something else?”