I Married An Alien, Page 2

  Chapter Two

  Jordan Demantena started walking back towards the homestead, continuing to check the sprinkler system on the way. The new crop of Hytana was coming along nicely; new buds shooting up from the rich red earth everywhere he looked.

  Hytana were the oil bearing plants that had started the Terron Treaty, as it was known here, or the Treaty of 2312 as it was called on Earth. Jordan and his partner, Logan Latana, had been harvesting two crops of Hytana every cycle for twenty cycles, a job now performed by most Terron males.

  It hadn’t always been so. There had been other occupations in the old days, but Earth’s ever increasing demand for the oil, and the relatively small population of Terrons, meant just about every able-bodied male was required to work on a Hytana plantation.

  As for the women, there hadn’t been a full-blooded Terron female born in a generation, hence the Treaty. But it seemed to Jordan that he wasn’t going to benefit from it any more than Logan had. Gloomily he approached the grey-haired man sitting on the porch of their homestead. A long, low sprawling building, it had been built to withstand the long hot summers thanks to the bright red sun the planet orbited. Coupled with the red earth, it gave everything on the planet a reddish tinge. Not until the Hytana sprouted did massive carpets of color start spreading across the rolling hills of Terron.

  The elderly man on the veranda held a glass half-full of a clear, crystalline liquid in one work-hardened hand. He nodded towards another tumbler on the table between the two lattice-work rocking chairs.

  “Thanks.” Jordan picked up the full glass and downed the scented water in one long, refreshing gulp. He wiped his hand across his mouth before setting the glass down. “Looks like every plant is shooting again. Another bumper crop this season,” he remarked tonelessly.

  Terron only had two seasons, a scorching hot summer, and a freezing cold winter, a fluctuating climate all Earthlings abhorred with a vengeance. They only came to Terron because of the Treaty, and then only for a few short days to fulfill their tour of duty.

  “You can’t go on like this, Jordan.” Logan motioned him down into the other rocker. Jordan gratefully sank into it. He was weary to the bone, a sure sign he was close to suffering the same fate as Logan.

  Even though Logan was only one Terron cycle older than Jordan, he looked like he had aged twenty in the last half-cycle, and now resembled a sixty-year old Earthling. Between the ages of twenty and fifty cycles, Terron men lost their libido while they searched for the woman that would return their virility. Men who found their life-mates could live to well over one hundred and fifty.

  Jordan had given up years ago making the long journey to the Citadel to see if his life-partner would be on the next spaceship from Earth. Logan had continued right up until the Aging took hold, ever hopeful that he would find that one special woman who could bring back his libido and a longer life-span. Now he was unlikely to see his seventieth birthday. Nature was cruel that way.

  “I don’t think I have to,” Jordan replied. “I’ve already made the call. Should I succumb to the Aging between now and then, the Administration will have men ready for the harvest.”

  Logan gave him a long hard look, his deep blue eyes narrowing. “Well, in that case I also made a call,” he admitted. “I’m taking you to the Citadel in the morning. The sprinkler timers are set and the crops virtually grow themselves from now on. Neither of us are needed for the next few weeks… You have one more chance, my friend, and I won’t see you suffer as I do.”

  Jordan frowned at his friend. “Why the hell did you go and do that for, you old fool? You know I gave up on all that nonsense years ago!” He raked agitated fingers through his long unruly hair. “I’m not going,” he asserted.

  Logan leant over and grabbed Jordan by his shoulders. “Oh yes you are, because it’s my birthday present to you.”

  ‘I don’t want a birthday present,” Jordan grumbled, refusing to look at his friend. He had seen it too many times; men turned weak with desire as the potent hormones surged through their bodies. They left to marry their new partners without bothering to acknowledge the friends and family left behind. This was one of the main reasons Jordan had settled out here so far from civilization, a place where he could do his job and tend for his ailing friend at the same time without any distractions.

  Jordan took a deep breath. “Very well, just say it does work. I could never turn my back on you.”

  “Then I’ll be happy for you. You know even after a hundred years of the Treaty our numbers are still too low to sustain us without assistance from Earth.”

  “Perhaps it’s because those petite little Earth women aren’t really meant for us… I can’t even remember all the stuff I learnt at the Academy. I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt one of them.”

  “I know you, Jordan. You don’t even like getting into fights with men. You could never hurt a woman.”

  Jordan shook his head in frustration. “Not intentionally, but with those rampant hormones running through my system I just might… I remember what it was like when we were teenagers… Just as well we still had some of our own women. Back then it was only for pleasure, never to create the next generation.”

  “From what I’ve heard these new Earth women are quite experienced in the matters of–"

  “With men of their own race,” Jordan cut in, “not of ours.” He heaved a weary sigh. “We may be similar genetically, but we are still different. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Logan, but it probably won’t work anyhow. It never has before… Perhaps, like you I’m destined to–“

  “Don’t even think that!” Logan took Jordan’s hands this time. “We’re going, and that’s that. I’ve even packed your wedding suit, as well as the notes we received at the Academy, so you can read up on them along the way.”

  Jordan pulled a disgusted face. “That embarrassing outfit?” he snorted. “How did you even know where to look for it?”

  Logan grinned, the lines in his face deepening even further. Six months ago he hadn’t possessed a single mark on his ruggedly handsome visage. “The deepest, darkest recesses of your closet, of course,” he sniggered.

  Logan scrambled unsteadily to his feet, the action ramming home just how feeble the once robust man had become. Logan had once been packed hard with muscle, but now his clothes hang on his thin frame. Like Jordan, he preferred the traditional Terron garb; cool flowing white shirts and billowy trousers that helped protect them against the hot sun. Outside in the heat, they also wore broad-brimmed hats.

  “Now I think it’s time you had a shave.” Logan motioned towards Jordan’s bushy blonde beard. “I’ve forgotten what you look like beneath that forest. A nice trim wouldn’t go astray either. Your hair looks as brittle and ragged as on old mop.”

  Jordan groaned. “Why bother?” And then something occurred to him. “Look, if it’s a holiday you want, why not just say so? We could go to the coast, enjoy the soft sand and soothing ocean instead of battling the city crowds.”

  Logan wagged a bony finger in his face. “Ah, ah, ah. The Aged One has spoken. I’m in charge of this mission.”

  “More like tour de farce, to coin an Earth term,” Jordan muttered, knowing they had adopted far too many Human phrases and customs over the years. Even their first names were Earthean, simply because most Human woman couldn’t pronounce their native ones. Their planet’s name, Terron, had actually come from the original Taha’rana, which the lazy Humans had shorted to something more familiar to them.

  Logan slapped Jordan on the back. “Go inside and have a shower. You reek of Hytana. Then I’ll attack that forest.”

  “I can shave my own beard, thank you very much,” Jordan grumbled, but preceded his friend into the house. He really did stink of plant oil. He didn’t mind the smell, but Humans reckoned it reeked appallingly.