Romancing the Recluse

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Morrigan Blake was just such a reporter—or so she thought. Galaxy Brides monopolized the bride procurement industry and had strong-armed other companies out of business. If she was to bring down an evil breeding corporation that sold women to the highest bidder, she needed the evidence to do so. Unfortunately, solid evidence proved very hard to come by. Money bought power and Galaxy Brides was sailing pretty in space credits.

  The medic units where such procedures took place were nearly impossible to find since they looked like any other medic unit. It would take a series of diagnostic tests to reveal the chip sequencing necessary for virginity replacement. She would just have to get the women to talk to her, which hadn’t been easy either. The brides were being compensated with otherwise expensive beauty and health treatments for their participation. Besides, most of them had their reasons for answering the advertisement and none of them were all that eager to share about their pasts.

  All right, Morrigan’s inner voice debated, as she stared at her bare feet in the pedicure basin. Breeding corporations aren’t exactly evil and virginity replacement isn’t illegal in all quadrants.

  Besides, bedding virgins was such an antiquated notion. She would never understand why some people became so worked up over a piece of organic tissue. Sex was just sex…not that she had personal experience with a non-mechanical partner. She had been with a droid once and, though it was fine, it was nothing special. Losing her virginity in such a way had been her choice and the entire experience proved how overrated the whole sex thing was. A quick mind sweep of a computer program could reproduce similar sensations in less time and with much less energy. Most of the men she met were an angle to an investigative story. The others weren’t humanoid compatible.

  Morrigan took a deep breath. Was it possible her pursuit of this story was just a desperate attempt to boost a career filled with wedding pieces and celebrity appearances? Right now, as she sat in the spaceship’s expansive beauty parlor with the rest of the prospective brides, getting ready for the official docking later that evening, Galaxy Brides wasn’t looking too evil. Controversial, yes. Evil, no. Aside from Aeron Grey who looked like she’d been conscripted into the program by her sister Riona, all the brides were clearly there willingly.

  We’re almost to the planet and I have no real facts, Morrigan thought in dejection.

  The small metallic hands of a beauty droid worked frantically grooming her toes, as another pulled her dark hair into a traditional Qurilixian upsweep. Curls were left to hang down her back in long, thick waves. The droid had used a hair extender to get her normally short locks to grow. The weight was heavy on her neck and hard to get used to.

  “Don’t doubt yourself, Rigan,” she said under her breath so none of the other women would hear her.

  Morrigan and the other brides had spent the last month being pampered and primped for the ceremony. Looking down at her legs, she gave a half smile. If nothing else, the trip had given her a lot of free benefits—permanent hair removal, a body enhancing lift, and time to contemplate the perfect color for her toenails.

  Galaxy Red number one or Galaxy Red number two?

  Okay, she was definitely bored.

  According to her boss, she was to do a soft, romantic piece on the four Qurilixian princes and their possible attendance at the festival. When the advertising request came in to The Universal, Gus had nearly blown his plastic artery with excitement. The last piece she did on the Lophibian royal wedding had boosted newspaper chip sales nearly forty percent and the Lophibian were a slime-dwelling species covered in scales. She had spent four months in the swamplands trudging in bluish-green goo. Though the tinting effect it had on her hair had been lovely, Morrigan would not relive that trip for all the press passes in the universe. At least she had a sales award to show for it.

  Technically, there were possibly more than four Qurilixian princes on the planet. The four princes she was on assignment to interview were called the Draig. Another race on the planet was called the Var. Not much was known about either group of people. They didn’t belong to the Federation Military’s Alliance and were for the most part ignored as just another tiny insignificant planet—well, except that they had a ton of Galaxa-promethium ore which made them rare in the mining circles. There were a lot of those types of planets out there in the universe—small inhabited globes that played little to no part in the betterment of the universe as a whole.

  According to her source, it had been decades since Draig royalty attended the ceremony in search of a bride, and newspaper chip readers were always eager to devour details of far off royal romances and intrigue. Normally, she would have flown straight to the planet, but luckily for her the Qurilixian people didn’t invite too many outsiders to their home world. That made this ship ride and bridal disguise necessary, and gave her inside access to Galaxy Brides.

  The Breeding Festival was definitely a better assignment than slime swamps. If she could uncover a scandal and interview at least one of the four princes, she could get two stories from one trip. Not to mention, she would be in for a huge promotion and pay raise. It did help that the men were rumored to be healthy, virile specimens and would photograph particularly well. Sexy, mysterious men sold more chips.

  It wouldn’t be easy. There were no known pictures of the Draig on file and they were notorious for not giving interviews, especially about their private festivals. Oh, if she could pull this off. Maybe then she could get that vacation back to her own apartment she so badly deserved. She wondered if she could remember exactly where her New Earth apartment was.

  Blast! Did she even remember to pay for her apartment? Surely Gus would make sure she didn’t lose her home.

  “What about you, Rigan?” Morrigan turned at the sound of her name. Nadja gave her an expectant smile from a nearby beauty seat. “Have you finished your Qurilixian etiquette uploads?” The woman’s voice was soft and polite, matching her kind blue eyes. Her light brown hair whirled around her head in a frenzy caused by six robot hands. She was very careful not to move.

  No one on the ship knew Morrigan’s real purpose for being there. They all thought her to be another excited bride in search of a virile, warrior husband. To be chosen was an honor, or so the other women claimed. Morrigan’s thoughts, on the other hand, went to a Ven-5 meat market where they were the prime cut. How could she take a man seriously when he had to pay for a wife? If women were so hard to come by, they should open a trading port for fuel ore or launch a floating fuel dock. That would bring visitors to the area. Or, maybe they should actually leave their planet.

  “Rigan?” Nadja repeated when Morrigan didn’t answer.

  Morrigan opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted.

  “Didn’t you know?” Gena laughed next to Nadja. Her hair was finished and her beauty droid was placing the customary short veil over the curly red locks. “Rigan finished her Qurilixian uploads first. It would seem she is most eager to please her new husband.”

  “Or to be pleased by him,” someone added from across the circular room.

  Morrigan closed her eyes, ignoring the abrasive women. Honestly, she didn’t understand their type. Sure, most were nice enough and even seemed intelligent and from a well-educated background—like the soft spoken Nadja. But why in all the galaxies would someone subject themselves to this barbaric trade was beyond her.

  Being alone wasn’t so bad. She had no one to answer to except for Gus. He never hassled her unless she was late with a story. She called her own shots, made her own deals. She never had to bother with a guy looking over her shoulder asking when she would be back from her assignment. Or deal with the jealousy that would inevitably come from a mission like this. And, if she needed space credits, she worked and got them for herself. She didn’t dream of a rich prince husband to take care of her.

  Still, Morrigan mused, forever trying to see all sides of a story though she wasn’t always successful in doing so, it would be nice to have someone to talk to on late nights. Someone to
rub my feet when they are sore. Someone to… She smiled. Hey, I’ll just take this beauty droid home with me. Problem solved.

  “I wish I could be so ambitious. I’m afraid I didn’t sit through a single one of those boring uploads.”

  Since her eyes were closed Morrigan couldn’t tell who spoke. She hoped the others would assume she napped, that way she wouldn’t have to join in the nervous banter. She was afraid if she said too much her scheming thoughts would become transparent. She was, after all, close to a big paycheck and didn’t want to give her un-matrimonial intentions away.

  Morrigan had spent most of the first week on the ship’s computer uploading Qurilixen facts into her brain. The specialized software interfaced with her mind to fill it full of facts, but the rush of information had given her a wicked migraine that not even a medical booth could cure. A couple days of pain were well worth the trouble, since it freed her up the rest of the trip for work. Already she had written, and transmitted, the beginning of her soft romance piece.

  In the weeks after, her head had been obsessively full of the planet’s facts. It was on the outer edge of the Y quadrant, inhabited by primitive males similar to Viking clans of Medieval Old Earth. The Qurilixian worshipped many gods, favored natural comforts to modern technical conveniences, and actually preferred to cook their own food without the aid of a food simulator. They were classified as a warrior class, though they had been peaceful for nearly a century—aside from petty territorial skirmishes that broke out every fifteen or so years between a few of the rival houses.

  The information she hadn’t uploaded mostly concerned the wedding ceremony and some aspects about culture and law. A human brain could only take so much information at once and she didn’t want to risk scrambling her mind just to cram in something she’d soon witness for herself. She doubted the wedding was any different from the other formal ceremonies on the planet. Morrigan had no intention of getting married while she was there, but hopefully she could see a ceremony and get some pictures. Whatever tidbits she couldn’t pick up along the way, she could upload on the trip home to finish her research and fill in the gaps.

  Morrigan smiled to herself. She was definitely going to be one of the ‘unlucky’ losers who got a free trip back. Hadn’t the corporation already warned that not all the brides would be chosen? Galaxy Brides had tried to tempt her to sign an exclusive contract to keep traveling from place to place until she found a husband, but Morrigan naturally refused.

  “I tried on my gown this afternoon,” Gena said, unintentionally breaking into Morrigan’s thoughts. She thrust her generous chest forward beneath the robe. “They are gorgeous, but I think I am going to go get my breasts enhanced again—just a little bigger—and I’m going to have my nipples enlarged. Those princes won’t be able to resist me. Maybe I’ll marry all four of them, just for fun.”

  “How will you know who the princes are?” a blonde asked from across the room. “I’ve heard all the men wear disguises. You could end up with a royal guard.”

  Morrigan buried her laugh behind her folded hand at the cynical words, recognizing Pia. Now, strangely, this seemed to be a woman who shared her uninterested views on marriage.

  “Or a gardener,” offered a brunette.

  “I hear they wear practically nothing at all,” added a redhead with sparkling green eyes the color of emeralds. “Except a mask and some fur.”

  “You can’t miss royalty,” Gena stated boldly with a kittenish smile of excitement. “You’ll see it in the way they move. I have a very keen sense when it comes to sniffing out money and power.”

  Morrigan stood as her droid finished, tired of listening to Gena. She looked down at her own enhanced breasts showing from the gap in her white robe. They were a size larger than she was used to. It had been part of the company’s beauty enhancement services as payment for their part in the trip. They were real, just genetically altered for perfection. At first, she didn’t like them. But, as she got used to the weight, she found they actually filled in her clothing quite nicely. She just hoped none of the men back at the office took too much notice. Well, whenever she actually made it back to the New Earth home office.

  The luxury spacecraft was outfitted with the best accommodations and services the star system had to offer. Personal droids were assigned to each passenger, and cooking units in each of their quarters could materialize almost any culinary delight without straying from the strict mineral diets the corporation had them on. Even the doctor was biomechanical.

  The only company the women had been allowed during the last month of travel was each other. They communicated with the ship’s crew by video relay and were quarantined to ensure nothing unseemly happened in what was affectionately referred to as the harem. The brides were valuable merchandise. The quarantine had provided for a very anxious, somewhat hostile atmosphere between the competing women. Morrigan frowned. She was in need of some company with testosterone and a conversation that included more than hair cream and skin glow.

  As the other beauty droids finished, the prospective brides began to slowly make their way back to their personal quarters to dress. Nervous excitement infectiously buzzed through the air as they tried their best to look nonchalant. Ignoring them all, Morrigan slipped her ID card from her pocket and slid it past the laser sensor to open her door.

  Once alone, she sighed as she made her way past the array of machines and blinking sensors that illuminated different parts of the room as her presence registered. With a small, absentminded command from Morrigan, music played softly in the background. She retrieved a glass of New Earth scotch from the simulator, her customary drink before landing on a new planet. It helped to steady her nerves so she could keep her wits about her.

  Slowly, she went to an oval window full of sparkling stars. In the distance she could see the reddish-brown surface of the small planet of Qurilixen. Lifting the glass to the orb, she muttered, “Cheers.”

  She sighed against the slow burn of the drink sliding down her throat. Simulator drinks never tasted as good as the bottle of real liquor in Gus’ office, but she couldn’t get the real thing in space. Reaching behind the curling lip of the window’s metal ledge, Morrigan pulled out a hidden container. She pushed the oval button on top, causing the lid to glide open.

  Glancing around to make sure her droid wasn’t in the room, she tapped a moist disc onto her finger and stuck the clear recording device into her eye. She blinked several times to get it into place before slipping a ring onto her pinkie finger. The emerald twinkled in the mock firelight coming from the quarters’ fake fireplace.

  It was hard to remain optimistic. The journey was nearly over and no one had said anything about the virginity conspiracy. There might not be a story at all. The rumors were vague at best. But Morrigan knew from living with the other women for a month, which ones would be experienced in the way of men. She would just have to wait for the marriages to be complete before seeing who was proclaimed pure. Then she would have her article and, hopefully, she would be able to prove it. Already the good assignments were going to other field reporters. If she didn’t come up with a real story soon, she would be doomed to writing about noble weddings and alien social events until the end of time.

  Barbarian Prince

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  New York Times & USA TODAY

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  Michelle loves to travel and try new things, whether it's a paranormal investigation of an old Vaudeville Theatre or climbing Mayan temples in Belize. She's addicted to movies and used to drive her mother crazy while quoting random scenes with her brother. Though it has yet to happen, her dream is to be a zombie in a horror movie. For the most part she can be found writing in her office with a cup of coffee while wearing pajama pants.

  She loves to hear from readers. They can contact her through her website.

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