Blaythal held Jehrea close in a powerful and loving embrace as they sat together in a holding cell. The cohort had sent them to investigate an alien spacecraft that landed in the desert just over the horizon. After monitoring the aliens’ communication and studying their language and customs from afar, the partners expected a calm, peaceful interaction to determine their intentions. Instead, they were immediately surrounded and pushed into captivity within the steel-barred cage.

 

“They frighten me, Blaythal,” whispered Jehrea as she nestled into her partner’s muscular chest.

 

“Yes,” said Blaythal, trying to control his anger and speak calmly to avoid suspicion. “The aliens seem prone to unreasonable violence.”

 

Jehrea sat on the cell’s metal bench. “Why do they cover their bodies like that, Blaythal?” she asked.

 

“I’m not sure. Perhaps it embarrasses them to be so much alike. Even the males and females look almost exactly the same — as if they were just mates rather than partners.”

 

“Maybe they are only mates,” Jehrea conjectured with a shiver of revulsion. “How sad it would be if the aliens were captives of their own biology like that.”

 

“They would never experience the joy of loving another the way we do,” said Blaythal as he unconsciously took Jehrea’s hand in his and squeezed it.

 

Jehrea squeezed back and shuddered again. “Do you think that’s it, Blaythal? Do you think they’re all homogenes?” Homogeneous relationships were an aberration on their planet, one that had been outlawed and morally condemned for many generations.

 

Blaythal released Jehrea’s hand and looked directly at her. “It’s time to get the others,” he said. “Go now, as swiftly as you can. And please, my love, please come back to me.”

 

* * *

 

“Shoot it!” barked the Captain.

 

Corporal Rippa closed one eye and sighted down the barrel of the blaster before pulling the trigger twice more. The shots fell short of their intended target.

 

“Damnit,” both men said. The Corporal lowered his weapon as the tall, lithe alien receded quickly across the barren landscape toward the far horizon. “I’ve never seen anything run that fast,” he said.

 

“How did she escape the holding cell?” asked the Captain accusingly.

 

“I… I don’t know, sir,” replied Rippa. “Maybe she squeezed through the bars?”

 

The humans eyed the remaining captive alien suspiciously, but he sat quietly on a bench within the cell. Rippa raised his blaster slightly and asked, “Do you think he can get out?”

 

The Captain paused briefly before replying, “No way. Look at him.”

 

The two aliens could not have been more different from each other in outward appearances. She had been tall, green, and skinny, with specially adapted bones and ligaments on her calves and feet, whose purpose was now abundantly clear. The male was stocky and muscular with a flamboyant crest and flat feet, perhaps adapted for carrying heavy loads across the fine sand of the planet. There was no possibility he might slip between the bars and escape.

 

They were obviously a couple. For three days, the expedition’s exobiologist had observed them embracing and touching each other affectionately, reassuringly. They spoke to each other in whispered tones, using a language the team’s linguist had yet to decipher. They wore no clothes and, bafflingly, even a cursory examination of the aliens’ sex organs revealed it was impossible the two could mate. Despite their clear emotional bonds, there was simply no way they could ever procreate.

 

The Captain looked at the alien and said, “Well, big boy, I wish I could ask you why your girlfriend waited so long to get out of here and escape.”

 

For the first time, the alien raised his head and seemed to understand what was being said to him. When he replied in perfect Engalactic, the humans were astonished.

 

“You can call me Blaythal,” his voice boomed and echoed off the metal walls of the domed enclosure.

 

As Rippa and the Captain stood aghast, the alien continued. “Her name is Jehrea, and she stayed with me because we love each other very much. We are… partners.”

 

“You… you can understand us?” stuttered the Captain finally.

 

“We have observed your language and your behaviors, yes,” boomed Blaythal. “There is still much I do not understand about you,” he continued, “but I know enough now.”

 

“Hmph,” said the Captain. “We still know almost nothing about you. For instance, how can you and… Jehrea be partners if you cannot ever have offspring together?”

 

“Because procreation is not the same thing as love,” replied Blaythal. “Jehrea has a mate within her own species, and I have mine. We must perpetuate our species, of course, but we choose to be together, to love each other, and share our respective talents and abilities to survive and flourish on this planet.”

 

“That’s sick,” Rippa murmured to himself.

 

“And just, wrong,” added the Captain. “How can you love someone who isn’t at all like you? Someone who isn’t even of the same species?”

 

“How can you not?” replied Blaythal.

 

Rippa thought he saw something through the airlock window. Something darted past so quickly that it was merely a blur.

 

Blaythal stood up in his cell. His voice boomed again as he said, “And that is the reason you cannot remain here. Something in your past, your society’s ancient mythology, has misled you. You believe that love cannot exist without sex and sex must not transpire except to procreate. This is a primitive and dangerous flaw in your species’ belief system. A flaw that disqualifies you from joining the galactic community, I’m afraid.

 

“And so you must leave our planet without further delay.”

 

Rippa now stood before the large viewport in the dome and said, “Uh, Captain, you need to see this, sir.”

 

As he approached the window, the Captain saw something that made him start to agree with Blaythal’s assessment they should leave the planet. Hundreds of aliens, shaped more or less like Blaythal surrounded the research station. Jehreas dashed about, conveying messages and supplies to the alien mob.