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Project X

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© 2016 Luna Black

~*~

The atmosphere in the room was tense. Both parties were sitting uncomfortably across each other as they tried to abide by the rules of the peace treaty and the silence was becoming quite bothersome.

The Xrion leader was tapping his finger against the edge of the desk as he waited for the President to speak what was truly on his mind. They only met a couple of times per month due to the hostility that the humans presented, caused by their fear.

Jenks, the Xrion leader, was not bothered by President Goodhart's attempts at intimidating him. It bothered him quite a lot, in fact, but he wouldn't allow the annoyance to show. It was a surprise that they had not called for war once they asked for a land to inhabit, but the fear that would occasionally flash across their eyes whenever the Xrions were present was most likely the reason why they signed the peace treaty.

Not only did the President have to hand over a tremendous piece of land, but he also had to make sure that the Xrions didn't break their end of the deal. The United Nations were already antsy thanks to the extra-terrestrial presence in their planet and they placed the Americans in charge of the aliens.

Trent, one of the seconds-in-command of the Xrion leader, was growing impatient. He leaned towards the table, placing his palms on the furniture in an impassive expression and quietly muttered, "Your people are lucky that the Griods are not the ones inhabiting your puny land."

President Goodhart raised an eyebrow, interest and confusion flashing clear across his face. "The what?"

"The Griods," General Jenks repeated, glaring at Trent for mentioning one of the most dangerous races from their galaxy. He sighed, leaning back against his chair and elaborated, "As you might have inferred, we are not the only group that come from another galaxy. There are other races," he grimaced, "that are not as civilised and peaceful as we are."

"There are more of you," the president laughed, not finding it humorous at all. "Of course there are," he scoffed sarcastically.

General Jenks sighed, sliding his seat closer to the large circle table that was separating them and said, "We know that it is a very hard thing to ask your people. We would not even dare to ask, if we were not in dire need of it."

"You are asking me to force my citizens to reproduce with Aliens, the very same Aliens that they believe look like green little blobs."

"Your people lack imagination," Trent muttered dryly, ignoring Jenks' warning glares.

"You would not be forcing them," Xander, the other second-in-command, spoke up, "we do not want your people to feel more threatened by us than they already do. We are merely asking you to ask them to volunteer."

The President narrowed his eyes, not bothering to look at his new Vice President because he knew exactly what the man would say. Take the deal in exchange for protection. It was the only logical solution, but there was no way in hell that American females would volunteer to become reproductive machines; especially during that time when women empowerment and the twisted ideals of what should have been feminism were taking over.

"Listen General Jenks," The President sighed, "the American females don't want to be taken home to make children. This generation? They want to be viewed the same way a man would be."

Jenks frowned. "This generation? Was it not that way before?"

Xander shook his head, surprising the human leader as he said, "Throughout the history of Earth women were seen as child-bearers. They were not to leave their homes to work and earn money, but to make sure that the household was kept organised."

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