Page 3 of Eclipse Bound
"Friendships? You mean mates." Solarestabinian's golden skin brightened to near-blinding. "With primitives who probably haven't even mastered basic light harvesting?"
"They have something called solar panels that convert sunlight into energy," Eclipsyionic offered, showing pictures of the panels.
"Primitives," Solarestabinian repeated with disgust.
"A species that adapts rather than evolves. Interesting," Luniaren mused, already calculating possibilities.
“I didn’t mean to imply they don’t evolve,” Eclipsyionic tried to correct. “Just not?—”
The two started arguing again.
Eclipsyionic held up his hands. He was about two seconds from throwing them both in a lava pit and calling the mission a failure before it even started. “Whether you find brides is not a concern so much as you work together to complete this mission without harming or abandoning each other, and without alerting Earth authorities to your presence. The Peacemaker Council feels you need a common goal, one not rooted in fighting off planetary attackers on your homeworld. Mutually surviving alien territory is a good first step.”
“How far is this Earth?” Solarestabinian interjected.
“How long will this mission last?” Luniaren asked at the same time.
They glared at each other.
"The corporation's representatives will be here shortly to explain the details of your mission." Eclipsyionic checked the time, eager to give the two men over to their new handlers so he could go home. The representatives were late.
As if summoned by his impatience, the conference room's door slid open with a grinding noise and a puff of smoke. Two short, stocky figures stumbled through, coughing and waving away the fumes. Their yellow skin looked pale, like a Solarian left in the dark for too long. Their spacesuits dripped with moisture, and they smelled like the dank waters of the night bogs.
"Apologies about that!" the first one called out cheerfully. His mouth moved, but the words were a few seconds behind the motion. "Slight miscalculation with the transport coordinates. We went to a dark pool. Lovely spot if not for the large creature that ate our trainee Harris. I'm Gary, and this is Bob.”
“Blessings from Galactic Acid Melting Your Rides, and organs are strewn in the spaces!" Bob announced, beaming at them. His translator made his words sound crackly.
Gary smacked the back of his long hand against Bob’s thigh. “Forgive his damaged translator. He meant to say we're from Galaxy Alien Mail Order Brides, where we join hearts across the universes!"
“We turn women into red soup,” Bob added.
Solarestabinian and Luniaren exchanged a look that, for the first time in recorded history, held perfect agreement.
Another puff of smoke clouded the entryway. A third alien appeared next to his coworkers. Green oozed from his cut head, contrasting with the yellow of his skin. Eclipsyionic lowered his head and sighed. This was not going well at all.
“Harris!” Gary greeted, plastering on a strange smile for his customers. “We thought you were dead. Do try to keep up. Death is no excuse to skip out on your first sales meeting.”
“Execrates are forthwith,” Bob added. “Phalluses rise at the dawning.”
Harris tried to speak, but Gary cut him off.
“Harris, give Bob your translator,” Gary ordered.
As the two beings exchanged translators, Gary fumbled with a device cobbled together from spare parts. Water dripped from the unit, and he shook it. "Just let me pull up the presentation." He smacked the device against his palm several times until it sputtered to life, projecting a wobbly image onto the nearest wall.
Wearing the new translator, Harris held his injured head. “Pudding.”
"As you can see," Bob gestured to what was clearly an upside-down chart, "our success rate is outstanding."
His words were clear, but the tone of his voice projected a few octaves higher.
"That's the failure graph," Gary whispered. “You were supposed to delete that one.”
"Ah, yes." Bob quickly turned the device over and changed the screen. "Much better! Now, about our matching process?—"
"Your matching process appears to be broken," Solarestabinian interrupted, pointing to the projection where two Killians were attempting to stuff a protesting human female into a suitcase.
"That was an isolated incident," Bob assured them. "We've since implemented strict no-suitcase policies."
