Page 110 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

Cyro’s tentacles wrapped around the edge of the console, his grip tightening as he nodded. “The statistical improbability of three beings from our world finding such connection with the same Earth female is...” he trailed off, for once unable to calculate the precise odds.

“Like making a square filtration insert fit the round cavity water recycler of a dome colony,” Kalith supplied, a hint of his old humor flickering across his features. “Yet here we are.”

We stood in silence for a moment, the weight of our impending decision hanging between us. Our mission, our world, and our people, all waited for our return, for the samples that could save an entire civilization. The logical choice was clear.

But logic had ceased to guide us the moment we bonded with Tammy.

Kalith’s engineering mind, always seeking solutions to seemingly impossible problems, whirred into action first. “We could send the pod,” he suggested, tentacles gesturing animatedly as his excitement built. “It’s already programmed with the right coordinates. It will travel directly to G.E.F.’s research station.”

“I can redact the mission data to exclude the crash. We could include a message claiming we perished during collection in the trench, that our last act was to ensure the samples made it home.”

“Our people would mourn us, but no rescue mission would be launched,” I noted, automatically assessing the viability of the deception. “They would focus on synthesizing the solution from our samples rather than recovering our remains from such depths.”

“And, to their knowledge, Earth is largely an unstudied, uncivilized planet,” Cyro nodded. “They would not wish to risk any of our people.”

Kalith’s skin pulsed with conflicted colors, the bright yellows of hope warring with the deep mauves of responsibility. “We would be abandoning our world,” he said softly. “Choosing one life over innumerable now living and unborn back home. And I’d never—” his voice caught, and he had to take a deep breath before continuing— “I’d never have a meal with my mother again.”

“We would never see our world thrive again after aqua-forming,” Cyro voiced his own grief, seeming to grow smaller. But then he quickly pulled himself together, form stretching toward the ceiling, part of his body beginning to remold into human form. “But we would live with the knowledge that we finished the mission and paved the path to healing our oceans.”

“We are not choosing between duty and Tammy,” I breathed out, feeling resolute in the decision solidifying inside me. “The mission first, loyalty to our home first, and then we will be free to live for ourselves.”

The reality of what we were contemplating settled over us like a physical weight. I found myself thinking of the underwater city where I had trained, its crystal spires rising through the clear waters of our home world’s northern sea. I thought of my mother and father, who had supported my career pursuit despite their hopes that I would stay with them, to join the artistic guild like hundreds of my siblings had. But I was not content to stay in place, not after witnessing the galaxy beyond the ocean, with its many stars full of secrets. I thought of my favorite view back home. I would float just below the ocean’s surface, mesmerized by the three moons hanging in the night sky and how their light filtered and refracted.

It was always about light.

My entire life had been spent chasing its brightness, as if finding just the right glowing source would answer every buried question.

Now I had found the right glow.

The incandescence that I could not part from.

In the color of her eyes. The fire of her hair. The heat of her body. The indomitable nature of her spirit.

“I truly will miss sea flower cakes and the Festival of Currents,” Kalith said quietly, his thoughts apparently running parallel to mine. “Those cakes dissolve on the tongue, leaving traces of sweetness that linger for hours. That festival united all our people, even those who existed on the outskirts of our cities.”

“The library in the Athosian Trench,” Cyro added, his tentacles curling with nostalgia. “The knowledge crystals that glow with accumulated wisdom from ten thousand generations. I will never touch those cold, crystalline growths again. I will never witness in my mindscape the brilliance of our past scientists.”

I nodded, feeling the loss of these things as a physical ache. “The song chambers in the eastern reefs, where sound carries for impossible distances, echoing the ancient melodies of our ancestors. My colony. My many brothers and sisters. The living art that categorizes the guild,” I said, my voice deeper than usual as emotion thickened it. “I never thought I would willingly give those up.”

We stood together, contemplating the unthinkable of choosing exile for love. Quiet fell between us again, but it wasn’t tense and inescapable. It was filled with shared understanding, with the weight of our impending decision. No, not impending.

The choice was made.

Carved into the unbreakable coral that forms around the Hydrix land mass that bisects the current of Torrent.

“Maybe someday we can return,” Kalith ventured, his engineer’s mind already seeking compromise. “Show Tammy our world. Introduce her to the underwater cities, the crystalline spires, the bioluminescent coral forests.”

“Her human physiology would require significant protection,” Cyro mused, scientist even now. “But adaptations could be engineered. Specialized breathing apparatus, pressure stabilization technology...”

“I can do that,” Kalith claimed, excitement sparking his shifting, shaping eyes.

“We cannot fake our deaths and then return unscathed,” I shook my head, which was now shaped into the hair-crowned human eyes, the two-nostril olfactory protrusion, the sharp jawline that Tammy once joked could cut glass. “It would be best, should we attempt to take her, that we travel only in uninhabited areas. We would need to shield our reentry somehow.”

The idea hung between us. We could craft a bridge between worlds; between the past we were considering abandoning and the future we might build together. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it offered a precious thing: possibility.

“The decision to stay is not just about what we leave behind,” I said, unable to stop myself from bringing up another harsh reality. “It’s about what dangers we might face by remaining. Earth authorities may discover us someday.”

“It’s worth the risk,” Kalith insisted with conviction.