You people are strange.
Firstly, you are too attached to your bodies. That is, to my people, a bit of a weird trait. We are used to occupy whatever reasonable vessel which comes in our way. I said so when the technicians were dissecting that alien body in the place you call area 51, but they did not understand, for by then, instead of inhabiting that body, I was one of them. The body itself also tried to talk, but the former technician trapped inside it was too slow to learn, and they cut its head off too quickly.
Secondly, and much weirder, is – as I have quickly learned in the short time I have occupied the vessel of that technician – your concept of “marriage”.
No, I shall not go into the details. Suffice to say that I do not want to invade your planet anymore.
“This spacecraft doesn’t have enough brainpower to run both of us,” Notrab said.
“Sure it does,” I said. “It runs us now!”
“Yeah,” he said, “right now we’re in orbit around the planet, which means it’s running nothing but us. But in order to land, it’ll need its full capacity. Which leaves no room for you.”
“I don’t take much,” I said. “I’m fairly simple.”
“Oh, I know that,” Notrab said. “You should be really stupid, sneaking on to an invasion pod like that.”
“I thought it’d be fun!”
“I rest my case.”
“Fine,” I said, “so why not store me on a memory chip, then get me back online after we’ve landed?”
“I don’t carry memory chips,” Notrab said. “Sorry, kid.”
And that dialogue is everything that remained of the copy of myself which I smuggled into the Earth invasion fleet.