”“We had hoped to evacuate quality mating pairs,” Ch’teek grumbled, flexing his four-clawed ‘hands,’ something similar to chicken feet, bu... larger and independent of his now-vestigial wings. I read the gesture as disgust, something the tones emitted by the Universal Translator chip embedded behind my ear confirmed. “But your species OBVIOUSLY does NOT mate for life...” Ch’teek’s did — one male to two females and a drone ‘mother’ who raised the next generation when their soft-shelled eggs. Supporters, friends, girlfriends had crushed in, and grinded against each other in breathless celebration. I had dressed down a little, a very short, very tight white dress bought without my mother, hair loose, but I had thrown on a cardigan after seeing myself in the mirror. The pale half-moons of my breasts were pushed just above the seam of the strapless sheathe, my legs extending below it. I didn't wear a bra, though it wasn't that noticable, as the dress was quite tight. A slick of mascara. More

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