Page 2 of My Human Wife

I tentatively open one eye. I see a different nun. She’s Agnorrian, meaning she has two arms, two legs, white hair, purple eyes and grey skin.

“What do I have to do to leave?” I ask sitting up and touching my head. There’s dried blood on my face and in my hair. I look around, this looks like a rundown infirmary from the last century.

“Just like everyone else who enters this temple, you must pay homage to the Fertility Goddess with a male and then you may leave.”

“How do I do that?” I know the answer to this question. Everyone in the galaxy knows the answer to this question but I must ask it anyway just to make sure what I heard isn’t propaganda.

“You stand in the female offering place and present yourself to males. If one of them chooses you, they’ll make a donation to the temple. Then you’ll have sex in one of the alter rooms before the Fertility Goddess’s eyes. When the nuns and the goddess are satisfied with your donation then you are free to go.”

“What if I don’t want to have sex with anyone?”

“Then you must remain here as a servant of the goddess forever.”

My eyes meet the nun’s purple ones. “Is that why you’re here?”

“That’s none of your business. And don’t even think about escape. We have no transport. Supply ships only come once a week and those are piloted by AI who are programmed to kill anyone who tries to board their ships.”

“You assume too much, Nun…”

“Oh human, I’ve been here a long time. You’d be a foolnotto think about escape. I thought about it all the time when I first arrived. You’ve already met our sadistic abbess, and she’d be bearable if it wasn’t for all the abuse and death here.”

“Have you tried to escape?”

“It’s impossible. My advice to you is to have sex and leave as soon as you can. Once you become a nun…” she makes the Agnorrian gesture of her fist hitting her palm meaning you might as well be dead.

“Sex with any of these males might kill me.”

“An Octopod won’t kill you.”

I make a face of disgust. “I might die from the memory.”

“I know,” she agrees. “And they can be brutal with humans, but maybe you’ll get lucky. I suggest you pray.” Then the nun gets out a tablet. “Now I have to ask you some questions since temporary guardianship has been passed from the IGC judge to the Fertility Goddess’s Temple.”

“I don’t need guardianship. Humans are free now. It’s galactic law.”

“Unfortunately, as a human who has been owned you do need someone with citizenship to speak for you and to set you free.” She makes fun of me by pretending to look around the dark stone room. “Is there someone here who is an IGC citizen who will vouch for you? No? I didn’t think so. You are without galactic citizenship and therefore without a mouth to claim your freedom. It’s ironic how galactic laws are made so that no one who really needs them can actually benefit from them. Funny that.”

I’m irritated but I don’t issue a rebuttal. She is correct after all. I am, for all intents purposes, stateless in the galaxy meaning that I’m at the mercy of the IGC and for now the nuns in this dirty temple. My master died before setting me free. But I know he would never have set me free. Then the IGC judge sent me here instead of setting me free. He could have but he didn’t. And now the nuns own me and it doesn’t look like they have any intention of setting me free until I risk my life having sex with an alien. But if I can look on the bright side, at least there seems to be a way out of here.

“But I can leave after I pay my respects to the goddess?” I ask to make sure I’d be risking my life for my freedom.

The nun looks up from the tablet surprised. “Isn’t that what I just said two minutes ago? Are you stupid or something?”

“Maybe I am.”

The nun bobs her head, an Agnorrian trait when they think someone or something is ridiculous, then asks me, “First question, when did you come to live with your former master?”

“I’ve already answered all of these questions.”

“Oh yes, the IGC file. We’d be fools to accept all their records as ‘accurate.’ Everyone in the galaxy keeps their own records and then later if they match up with the IGC records then happy days for everyone. Now, where was I?” she looks at the tablet. “When were you bought by your previous master?”

“About eight galactic years ago.” My master would mark the day of my entrance into his menagerie with a gift for me. It was never anything I wanted but jewelry and trinkets I wish I still had to bribe my way out of here.

“Where?”

“Gala Station.”

“You’re sure?”

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