“Who’s there?”
Olena froze in her search for a bottle of liquor, and silently cursed. Blasted dock security guards. Why didn’t they find themselves a real job?
Olena edged close to the ground to peek around the side of the transport. The security guard came into view. She cursed again. Her arm was in no shape for self-defense. Looking at her waist, she saw her gun registered empty. She had used all her ammunition to fire her way out of the ship’s metal side. The hatch had been jammed by the ground.
Hearing a rush of feet coming from the other direction, she stiffened. A woman hurried near them, covered with a rich fur cloak from head to foot and laden down with numerous suitcases. As Olena watched, she shifted her bags and pulled the cloak tightly around her, jerking it over her head, as if frightened of the dark and lonely docks at night. Olena smiled. She might not be able to drive, but this rich woman would definitely have her own vehicle.
Olena heard the guard move. He stopped to smile at the rich lady. The woman jolted in mild surprise to see him, but managed a weak nod of acknowledgement in return. The guard appeared to know her, because he waved at her and pointed down the docks. Olena looked in the transport. Seeing a coat, she slid it over her shoulders and buttoned the front to hide her pirating attire. Then, grabbing a hat, she positioned it on her flaming red hair, and tucked the ponytailed locks up beneath it.
Some floral bags had been stowed in the back seat and she took all four of them. Olena loaded them on her shoulders, trying not to flinch at the pain, as she began walking after the cloaked lady. She smiled innocently at the security guard who had forgotten his investigation and was going back toward the monitor room. He waved at her, pointing down the docks in the same direction he had for the other woman. Olena smiled brightly, as if she understood his signal.
She took the plank reserved for first class, again seeing the rich woman next to a uniformed man with a clipboard. The woman’s hood was down, and the brown hair appeared very respectable, pulled back into a bun. Olena squinted, detecting the glittering of diamond earrings on the woman’s ears. Instantly, her mind calculated the worth of them. Oh, she’d love to get her hands on those. It might make this little detour worth it.
Olena pasted a smile on her face as she watched a bunch of women load into the spacecraft, beneath a banner that read, Galaxy Brides, in curving script. Carting her new bags, she came forward to stand in line.
“Perfect, Miss—ah—Aleksander,” the uniformed man said to the rich woman. “Welcome aboard the flight to your future!”
Olena didn’t pay the woman’s answer any attention as she set her bags down. She turned to dig through her gun belt.
“No, Miss. Galaxy Brides Corporation owes you.” The man answered whatever Miss Aleksander had said.
Olena pulled out the first ID she came across and quickly tugged the coat to cover her weapon. She pushed the stolen luggage closer, kicking it lightly across the floor with her foot. Glancing over her shoulder, she thought she heard air sirens outside the dock. They would be going to investigate the explosion. She could only hope the blast had made her ship unrecognizable.
“I wish to invoke the right of privacy law. If anyone asks, I’m not here,” the rich lady said.
“Police?” the man questioned in surprise, though the idea didn’t seem to concern him. He obviously had a quota to fill and Olena knew these corporations were notorious for looking the other way.
Olena didn’t hear the woman’s answer, but saw the man nod in understanding. She tried to edge closer, taking another peek at the pricy earrings.
“I’ll make a note, Miss. That won’t be a problem.” The man wrote a notation on Miss Aleksander’s file.
“And, by the way, where are we going?” the woman asked, her voice mild and unwavering.
Olena stepped closer. She knew about Galaxy Brides. They were a corporation who peddled marriage to barbarian planets in need of women. Once she had been asked, by a lower breed of humanoids, to shanghai a load of brides. It was one of the few jobs she had turned down. Not even she could take profit from delivering hapless women to men who squirted slime from their…well…yeah.
The worker chuckled. “Most women ask before they come down here. It must be some maniac you are trying to get away from.”
The woman said nothing.
Reigning in his humor, he answered, “You’re heading to Qurilixen, Miss.”
The woman nodded before she walked away, following a droid who carried her bags. Instantly, Olena turned her sweetest smile on the uniformed worker. He grinned in response.
“Hi,” she murmured in a sultry vixen’s tone that she knew drove men to instant distraction. Pouting her lips, she said, “Oh, these bags are so heavy. I never thought I would get them all the way up the dock by myself.”
“Are you here as a last minute replacement?” the man inquired, his breathing quickened at the look she gave him. He took her bags and moved them forward.
“Oh, thank you,” she gushed with feigned innocence. “I’m so glad I made it on time. Rick at the office told me it would be all right if I tagged along. This is the flight to Qurilixen, isn’t it? I didn’t get lost again?”
“Yes, Miss. I know Rick,” the worker lied. “Fine man.”
“Why yes, he is,” Olena giggled with a toss of her hand and a playful bat of her eyelashes.
“Sign here,” he said, handing over the clipboard. “We are several girls short, so they’ll be more than happy to have you. Your health screenings will be done in flight. You’ll have room 209 on platform two. It’s the one all the way to the back, left side. Ship orientation is tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. Earthtime.”
“That is perfect,” she declared, as she set her ID on top of the clipboard. To her surprise, it was her real name. Out of all the fake IDs to choose from what were the odds? Since it was too late to grab an alias, she signed her name with flourish.
The man looked at the ID and handed it back. “Here you go, Miss.”
“Oh, and…” Olena glanced down at the man’s name tag. “Rick said it would be all right if I invoked the right of privacy law. He said just to tell Bernie, and you would personally see to it my privacy isn’t violated.”
“Stalker?” the man asked.
“Oh, is it that obvious?” Olena pouted, trying her best not to laugh at the protective look the guy gave her. She dabbed fake tears from her widened eyes and sniffed.
“No, Miss,” Bernie answered in a self-important tone. He motioned to a droid to pick up her bags for her. “It just seems that there is a lot of that going around lately. The galaxies can be a dangerous place. You’re very lucky to have found a reputable company like ours.”
* * *
One month later…
Olena sighed happily, resting back in the beauty chair in absolute comfort. A droid massaged her feet in the pedicure basin. A second unit rubbed her neck with two robotic hands while its other four did her hair. Looking around the parlor, she had memorized almost every one of the brides’ names. It was an old habit, one that had saved her hide more than a few times.
Besides, what else could she have done during the last month of deep space travel? Plan her future marriage with a barbarian husband? Knit him and their nonexistent children space helmet liners?
No thanks. Not likely. Never going to happen.
The brides prepared for the Breeding Festival which would happen that very night on Qurilixen. The planet had no locally born women because of one of their suns’ blue radiation made the men shoot boy-only sperm. She supposed it was admirable they paid for wives rather than raiding other planets and taking unwilling captives. Then again, kidnapping women could cause the brides’ families to get upset. Aliens would attack the planet for revenge. Intergalactic war would start. People would die. Security measures would be heightened and pirating would get a lot more dangerous.
The mass wedding was held on the one night of darkness on the otherwise sunshiny planet. Apparently, the locals only l
et the men get married in the dark. Oh, there were so many, many jokes she could tell on that little piece of cultural trivia. How horrible were these guys that they had to hide their faces, and pay for women so desperate they’d marry anything?
Olena had every intention of finding a poor sucker to marry her. What easier way to lay low for a few months as she plotted her escape? Besides, free room and board? Who could resist? Although, the dupe would probably want to have sex with her. It was an annoying detail, but one she wasn’t overly concerned about. She was fairly confident she could lie her way out of any marital duties. If he became too handsy, she’d drug him, or hit him over the head, or start speaking in religious tongues until he ran away terrified.
She couldn’t help wondering what the Qurilixian males must be like—a whole planet of Medieval Old Earth warrior types. From her experience, men who were left in each other’s company for too long tended to lack certain social graces. But, since Olena also lacked certain social graces, this temporary layover might actually be fun.
Smirking, Olena inwardly laughed at the other women onboard the Galaxy Brides’ ship. They were all such dopes, with their high hopes of having a royal marriage and living blissfully ever after—on a primitive planet, with guys too grotesque to be married in daylight. Yeah, like anyone ever found true love at the end of a glowing crystal. What these foolish women would find had nothing to do with love. People loved when it was convenient for them to do so, or when they were getting something out of it.
Olena chuckled, a grin forming on her features. Why else would the Qurilixian men call their wedding ceremony a Breeding Festival? It was so laughably obvious. It had nothing to do with love and everything to do with a planet full of horny males, with no females of their own, who needed to find release. Hell, it was easy to say “I love you” to one of the only women on the entire planet. How else were the poor bastards going to get laid?
Olena took her feet out of the water at the droid’s gentle push and set them on the edge of the basin. She watched the droid stain her toenails with permanent polish.
Maybe, I’ll find a prince and make the entire planet worship at my feet, Olena mused with a whimsical smile. Queen Olena has a nice ring to it.
She would never do it. Though it might be fun to play queen, the truth was the wanderlust in her veins would eventually get the better of her. No planet could hold her interest for long. With permanence came responsibility. Pirates tended to stay away from such mature undertakings.
Olena closed her eyes and concentrated. The ship had uploading services, and she’d been able to interface with the specialized software to load planetary information directly into her brain. Though convenient, it took work to actually sort through all the suddenly-gained knowledge.
The words filtered through her mind, “The fact that the Qurilixian have no women of their own, is why the services of corporations like Galaxy Brides are so invaluable to them. In return, the Qurilixian mine a special ore that is only found in their caves. That ore is a great power source for long-voyaging starships, all but useless to the Qurilixian because they are not known as explorers. For you as brides, this is good news. Your men won’t be leaving for other colonies after the marriage.”
Olena frowned as she tried to focus past the marital sales pitch Galaxy Brides snuck into the program.
“The Qurilixian worship many gods, favor natural comforts over modern technical conveniences, and prefer to raise, grow, and cook their own food. They have been peaceful for nearly a century, aside from petty territorial skirmishes that break out every fifteen or so years between a few of the rival houses. So brides have nothing to fear. At Galaxy Brides, we take your happiness very seriously. That is why we—”
“Ugh, never mind,” she mumbled to herself. She wanted useful information and they’d uploaded a blasted commercial.
As backwards as these barbaric men sounded, she hoped they at least had a space port so she could easily hitch a ride off the planet. If her situation wasn’t so dire, it would have been hilarious.
The planet was in the Y Quadrant. That was good. Olena was familiar with the territory. She had escaped a renegade hunter a few years back, by flying into an asteroid belt that ran through its outer edge. She had seen the red-brown planet briefly and had almost stopped for repairs. Even though she hadn’t landed, a pirate always remembered a potential planet on which to hide. You never knew when it would come in handy. Her excellent memory and dumb luck were the only reasons she’d survived this long.
But, knowing what she did now, how they were a superstitions lot who shunned modern technical conveniences in favor of natural comforts, she was kind of sorry she hadn’t paid them a quick visit before now. With the right crew, she could have scammed the unsophisticated kingdom for all their valuables in a month’s time. Good thing a corporation like Galaxy Brides was there to find them—
“Blasted space monkeys!” she swore under her breath. Stupid commercial get out of my head.
The droid pedicuring feet finished its task. Olena wiggled her toes, sure they’d never looked so pretty.
This trip hadn’t been so bad. She’d traveled in far worse accommodations. Plus, the ship had a medic unit. She’d found it that first night, typed in her room number, and seconds later her arm was fixed without even a scar to show for it.
The spacecraft was luxurious, but she’d spent the last four weeks quarantined with a boatful of jittery, excited brides. Apparently the corporation didn’t want the shipment compromised by the male crew. Olena looked around. Um, these women were crazy enough to sign on to be ship- order brides. She’d hazard a guess and say the shipment was already a little compromised to begin with.
After a month of traveling with the giggling twits, Olena was sure that refusing the shanghai gig had been one of her best calls. She would have dumped the brides out of her smaller rust bucket of a ship in a lunar second.
Stop judging, she scolded herself. You don’t know their stories.
But you have to admit they giggle. A lot, herself answered.
Personal droids and cooking units were assigned to each passenger. She had used her cleaning droids to no end, spending hours making a mess just to watch the things pick up. They never complained. As soon as she heisted a new ship, Olena was going to make sure she took a dozen of those little numbers with it. As for eating, having known firsthand the pangs of starvation, she gladly feasted on more than her fair share of food simulator meals.
Yep, her accommodations could have been much, much worse. Option number two would have included being tied up in a prison, held at the mercy of some half-wit bounty hunter, who’d more than likely try to take an advance on his wages with her unwilling body. Then, she’d have to kill him, she’d be left helpless, that ship would crash…disastrous.
“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.” Hearing Gena make reference—again—to her own genetically altered breasts, Olena forced a false smile and giggled with the rest of them. Gena’s boobs were an ungodly size. Olena had been tempted more than once to bump into the woman just to see if she tipped over.
Oh, yeah. This was getting old. Good thing they were docking in a few hours or she might have tried squeezing out of the small port window in her room so she could float away into deep space.
Gena kept babbling, but Olena ignored her as she looked down at her own body. She had taken advantage of some of the services, having the hair on her legs and armpits permanently removed. She didn’t care much for the body altering, though she did get one annoyingly puckered brand removed from her backside.
“How will you know who the princes are?” came the cynical reasoning of Pia Korbin. Olena looked to her right. She liked the sarcastic Pia. “I’ve heard all the men wear disguises. You could end up with a royal guard.”
“Or a gardener,” a brunette offered with a laugh.
“I hear they wear practically noth
ing at all,” Olena said, just to get a rise out of the women. “Except a mask and some fur.”
She wasn’t disappointed. They tittered in excitement.
“You can’t miss royalty,” the self-important Gena announced, tossing her auburn hair. “You’ll see it—”
Blah, blah, blarg, blah, Olena mentally filled-in as the woman spoke, rolling her eyes.
Olena caught her reflection in a mirror. Weakly, she waved back the hands of the beauty droid who had finished curling her locks. For a moment, she froze, not recognizing the woman in the plush white cotton robe staring back at her. Turning her head to one side and then the other, she frowned as she studied her upswept locks. The sides pulled up into a center knot, only to cascade down her back in curls. She looked like a spoiled rich girl and it made her uncomfortable.
“Come on, Olena.” Riona Grey placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned over to whisper in her ear. They’d spent quite a bit of time drinking in Riona’s suite, playing Frendle’s Chips and avoiding the others. “Want to have a couple drinks and try to find a way off this ship that doesn’t include a gangway?”
Olena smiled, but was unable to take her eyes away from the stranger in her reflection. “I wish.”
“Try to find me if you don’t get married. We’ll raise fury on this planet.” Riona chuckled and pushed back. She’d spent a lot of hours with the woman, but had a feeling this might be one of the last times they actually spoke. Riona didn’t seem intent on staying, but Olena needed to find a husband so she could find a ride off the floating rock. Then she’d be logged out of Galaxy Brides’ active database.
Swallowing, she shook herself from the trance and stood to follow the others out into the hall leading to their suites. She took a deep breath, telling herself none of this mattered. What was a little marriage if it would help her recover her freedom? It wasn’t as if she had any plans to marry for love or happiness. The universes were a rough place. A girl had to do what she had to do. Like everything else in her life, this adventure was just a means to an end. Her hair would soon be undone and this costume she wore discarded.
Dragon Lords Books 1 - 4 Box Set: Anniversary Edition Page 55
