“Giving my eggs away to someone who also wants a child, well, that is okay, but donating them to give life to a human who will be kept as a pet. I have trouble with that. Until recently, I was a volunteer here myself.”

“I understand,” the Imperial doctor says. “I would feel the same way, but the galaxy is about give and take. None of us are clean. I try my best to work only with families, but sometimes I must work with others too.”

“Is there anything we can do to assure Volunteer 4711’s eggs go to a family? Perhaps some extra UCs?” my Commander asks.

“I’m sorry. I won’t take your UCs because I won’t lie to you. I have a high turnover and cannot just hold on to eggs waiting for the ‘right’ people.”

“Do you have people waiting for human eggs now?” I ask.

“I might,” the Imperial doctor replies. “But there’s nothing you can say or do to make me tell you. If you want this procedure done for you, then you know the cost. And you will have to take my word for it that your eggs were given good homes.”

I study the Imperial doctor and then say, “I agree.”

“Good,” says the Imperial doctor. He brings out a contract for me to put my GC number into and my fingerprints. I read it. It’s fairly straightforward, and I don’t see anything worrying given the terribleness of the entire thing, to begin with. I put my fingerprint and code in. The doctor does the same. “Finished.”

“What about my husband?” I ask. “Doesn’t he need to agree?”

The Imperial doctor is surprised, “Why would he need to agree? These are not his eggs. It is not his body. You may have married the former king, but he has no control over you.”

I notice the Silver doctor gasped when the Imperial doctor said this, and I’m not surprised as they are a patriarchal society. “I don’t understand your Imperial reference, but I respect my husband’s culture.”

The Imperial doctor looks up at my husband and then smiles at me. “I see,” he says. “My gods,” shaking his head, “And she’s been here years, and you’ve not told her.” When no one replies, the Imperial doctor gets back to work, “Now, should we move on to what you would like your children to look like? I assume you would like them to resemble their father, as humans have a tough time in the galaxy.”

“But I want them to have glimmers of my humanity,” I say.

“Fine,” the Imperial doctor says, changing sequences on his computer. The first thing he did when we arrived was take DNA samples. “Blonde-white hair, silver skin,” he says, naming characteristics off. “Now we can make the eyes brown like yours?”

I nod.

“How about the tongue?” the doctor asks. “No one likes Silver’s tongues, do they?”

I nod.

“Silver ears are convenient, though; let’s keep those.” He swishes some more DNA coding around as we watch. “Now, how many girls and how many boys? With human DNA, male babies are less likely to survive. They aren’t as viable.”