…should I pay the exorbitant price the insectoid flesh dealer demands. Pretty even in her strangeness. The alien creature is everything I require to satiate my seeding frenzy. Her protected species engineered to survive my needs. Built to serve them again and again. One look at her trapped in containment, and already my tentacles display. Skin warming from the blue of calm, straight to red. I will feed her. Bathe her. Keep her warm in the freezing halls of my ship. Seed her. Spawn an empire. And, according the human manual, she will love me for it.