“Wait a minute.” Heeznol waved a disbelieving tentacle. “You’re trying to tell me that you humans consist of two different sub species?”
“Well,” Pete corrected. ‘We don’t use that terminology. There are men, and there are women. We call them the two sexes.”
“And each have their own job to do in reproduction.” Arnie supplied.
“One individual injects seeds into another.” Pete explained.
“Then the baby grows in there until it’s time for it to come out.” Arnie finished.
“Sounds disgusting.” Heeznol did what his people do when humans wrinkle their noses.
“We’re pretty happy with it. How does your kind reproduce then?” Pete asked.
“Budding. A smaller being grows along the ventral folds until ready. Then it drops off, and goes its own way.”
“Hmm, there’s more drama involved with humans.” Arnie commented.
“Mathematically, that is logical.” Heeznol reasoned. “It apparently requires the interaction of two different individuals.”
“And not just any two.” Pete rolled his eyes.
“What do you mean?” Heeznol asked.
“Well,” Arnie tried to explain. “One has to be a man, and one has to be a woman...if you want a baby.”
“At least one of each type.” Pete pointed a finger.
“Are more of each type recommended?”
Pete and Arnie blinked at each other for a second.
“Opinions vary.” Pete said.
‘Lotta debate on that.” Arnie nodded.
Heeznol swiveled several eye stalks at the two humans, trying to decide if they were playing some elaborate prank. “Alright, Is one of you a woman? Or both?”
“No, no, no, no. We’re both males. Men.”
“Are we ever.”
“Are there women in your crew?”
“Oh yeah. Nearly half the crew are women.” Pete said.
“I have not noted discernible differences.”
“There are differences, believe me.” Arnie chuckled. ‘We can tell which is which.”
“Usually.” Pete smirked.
Arnie frowned at him. “Let’s not bring that incident up in front of the alien. Shall we? I was drunk.”
“Yes, you were.”
“Ahem.” Heeznol dragged the thread of the conversation back to more productive matters. “How might I tell the difference between your two subspecies?”
“Well, you could...” Arnie started, then ran out of steam, his hands upraised and seeming to cup some ill-defined shapes.
“How about...” Pete sighed. “No, that would be awkward.”
“I know!” Arnie snapped his fingers in triumph. “The next time you see one of us humans, tell them whatever they’re wearing makes them look fat.”
“How will that tell me if they are male or female?’ Heeznol asked.
“If you survive, they’re not female.”
END
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A Grand Imperial Heir (sequel to A Grand Imperial War)
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