Humility
It was not Mrs. Excelsia Grand, Ministry of Alien Affairs that stared up at her from behind a desk, confused, when Humility showed up promptly for her appointment, suitcase in hand. Delilah, as her name tag read, checked her computer list twice before casting yet another suspicious glance at the woman before her.
“It’s not your birthday.”
“Yes. I know. I was told to report.”
“I think someone’s playing a rather big joke on you.”
Humility fished the card out of her pocket. She handed it over. Delilah looked at the back and then at her computer. She turned the card over to the front and her eyes got very wide.
“Oh. Oh!” She stumbled back out of her chair and circled around the desk. “Let me help you with your bag.”
“I got it.”
But Delilah had already grabbed the suitcase and wheeled it toward a door. “It’s best not to keep Mrs. Grand waiting.”
With the swipe, she bypassed the security and they were riding up in an elevator.
“How much?” It was like a dirty whisper.
Humility stared at the secretary who refused to look at her. She had a bland elevator expression plastered on her face as she stared intently at the brushed steel door. “Pardon?”
“The offer. How much?” Delilah’s lips hardly moved.
Humility considered lying but then decided there wasn’t much point. “Eight.”
“Ask for ten.”
“But-”
“She’ll pocket the two if you don’t ask,” Delilah said with certainty.
“And you’re just freely offering this information?”
“Might be a price?”
“Might?”
“I like cats,” she said cryptically, but there was no time to question her further. The door was open and Delilah pulled her suitcase through to the bright white office. The single desk in the room was a grand affair of glass and stainless steel. A few green plants were the only real source of color in the room And even those looked like they could use a little time outdoors. Mrs. Grand swiveled in her tall office chair, probably her way of making an entrance. Humility was unimpressed, especially with the new knowledge that Mrs. Grand was padding her pockets and keeping herself in designer high heels off the backs of reluctant brides.
“Thank you, Delilah, that will be all.”
“Yes, Mrs. Grand,” she said meekly and then disappeared back down the elevator.
“Please, have a seat.”
Mrs. Grand eyed her large black suitcase with disdain. When Humility swung her backpack off her back and onto the floor, she gave a disapproving tsk tsk noise that sounded as if she were scolding a child. “You are only supposed to have one suitcase.”
“This is my purse. You wouldn’t deny a woman her purse, now would you?”
Mrs. Grand opened her mouth and then shut it again. She opened the file on her computer. “Right, so this is your standard contract. You’ll need to fill in the beneficiaries, sign and date. I hope you’ve decided how to divide up your eight million-”
“I want ten.”
“What?”
“Ten. People talk. I know they’re not supposed to, but they do. And I did my homework. The going rate’s ten, not eight.” Humility pressed her hand on the desk and leaned forward.
Mrs. Grand’s eye actually started to twitch.
“Everything’s already arranged at ten, so if there are family members that don’t get what’s coming to them, you can be sure one of them will release the little video I made,” Humility said. “And you saw how ready they were to sell me to the highest bidder.”
That was a total lie. There was no video, but the rest was very true. Let her think she was ready to walk away. That’s how you bought or sold anything including, apparently, yourself.
“Sweetie, there’s no need for that kind of talk,” Mrs. Grand said, suddenly dripping syrup instead of venom. Humility knew it was poisoned in either case. “Let me see. I suppose we can work out something. Now here’s the official agreement to sign.”
Humility took the pad with suspicion. The length of time she looked over the contract seemed to unnerve Mrs. Grand. It didn’t seem to differ from the standard volunteer contract that had been published on the internet when they were first drawn up, back when some women actually volunteered to be added to a permanent database that put them in the lottery every day. Some women were just that desperate to marry Mahdfel and escape Earth. At the end of the contract was a standard charity donation box. Humility scrolled down the list and found a cat sanctuary. A hundred grand was a small price to pay for an extra two million. Too bad she’d never get the chance to thank Delilah for the heads up.
Humility took a deep breath, signed the contract and hit the submit button. Now that she knew she wasn’t going to be able to milk Humility for any more money, Mrs. Grand was cool, and disinterested.
“This way.” They got back in the elevator and shortly reached a room with a large circular platform in the corner. A goofy looking man in a lab coat scrambled to his feet in the presence of his boss, and then reached for her suitcase. He grabbed it, and with a neat little swivel, hit her with a gun that punched her arm with a sharp jab.
“Wham. You’re done. No muss, no fuss, as I always say,” he said.
“What the hell was that?”
“A nifty piece of Mahdfel tech. It’s the thing that’ll let you talk to your handsome new piece of Mahdfel man meat.” He actually let out a sexy growl. When he saw that she wasn’t amused, he toned it down. “Sorry,” he shrugged. “Humor and distraction usually help.”
He picked up her case and set it on the platform. Humility bit her tongue and followed to stand beside her luggage.
“Trust me, everything will be fine.”
Humility opened her mouth for a snarky reply, but before she could he slammed his hand down on the button and disappeared in a flash.