Page 25 of The Pregnancy Pact

“That is your right, of course, Overlord,” she said. “You and I both know the Coalition is very likely to abide by any decision the Asterion Council renders, and for the same reasons.”

The Overlord swore viciously. I started, then clenched the edge of the bed with both hands to hide my nervousness.

“I understand you need time to process this, Overlord,” the spokesperson said. “I will release you from our conversation. We will be in communication again, once the Council has rendered its verdict.”

“I may be in Asterion by then,” Ellax grumbled.

“Then you will be able to hear the decision in person. I wish you good day, Overlord. Journey with the stars.”

With that the screen blipped out. The Asterion spokeswoman was gone. Only the Overlord and I remained in the room, with a weight settling between us that felt too heavy to bear.

Chapter 13

Ellax

Idid not know where to look or what to think. I did not wish to look at the human female who sat anxiously on the edge of my bed. She stared at me, her eyes huge and luminous. I had promised her I could fix this. Promised her it would not be an issue.

I could not keep that promise.

My stomach felt filled with lead. As though I’d visited the lead mines on the planet Dormet, and eaten my fill from the carts used to trundle the metal in and out of the pits.

“Wh—what are we going to do?” the human female asked.

Her voice was timid. Shaky.

“I cannot say.” I shook my head grimly. “I still have hopes the Council will come to the proper decision.”

“What if they don’t?”

I had no answer. What if they did not?

“Can’t we just—ignore them? Can’t we apply for a divorce ourselves? Or an annulment? We don’t have to stay married, do we, because the Council says we should?”

“It is not that simple,” I responded. I could hear the tightness in my voice. It was not from anger at her. Rather, at the situation in which we found ourselves. My brain whirred, attempting to decipher a path through the maze.

“Asterion marriages are not typically rescinded by anything save death, anyway. A judge or a member of Council must agree to the divorce, or the annulment, and they must have proper grounds. Even with what some might consider proper grounds, they are rarely granted. Asterions simply do not divorce. An annulment might be easier to obtain—and I feel we’ve proper grounds, indeed. But if a judge or a member of Council refuses to sign off on it…”

“We’re screwed,” she said, her voice flat.

“Indeed,” I intoned.

“I just can’t. I can’t!”

She almost seemed to explode—jumping off the bed, speaking rapidly, even waving her arms. Clearly, to my mind, losing control.

“I can’t do this again!” she snapped. “I can’t be married to a man who doesn’t love me. I can’t share a bed with a man who wants everyone except me. Do you know how miserable that is? I just got the hell out of one bad relationship, and now I’m getting thrown into another one? I can’t do this!”

I eyed her suspiciously. Never had I seen anyone stomp about, ranting and rambling like this. It must be a human trait. I wasn’t clear on what to do besides wait for her to finish. At last, she did, sinking into a chair as if spent. To my horror, a sob escaped.

“I can’t do this,” she repeated in a tearful voice, shielding her face with her hands. “How can a stupid drunken mistake upend my life?”

I snorted derisively. “Your life is hardly upended,” I said. “It is not as though you had much of a life to begin with. You were, what, an unwed mother whose children are already grown and need you no further? You were a records keeper on a space ship? If anything, I am the one who should be weeping. My life is the one upended.”

This seemed very practical to me. Common sense. Logical.

Perhaps the human female did not grasp the value of logic the way she should have.

Her head came up, her hands dropping to her lap. Although her eyes were wet with tears, sheer fury had displaced any hints of sadness.

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