Rykhan (Book 1 of Mate Search Series)

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  “We have received Droid Six’s report,” Herald president, Stace Allwyne announced, his mouth close to the microphone. His amplified voice overrode all the other conversations in the spacious domed room of the Galaxian capital of Renx. As the pop of his last ‘T’ resounded, all conversation stopped and every face turned to the podium. He had the attention of each of the Herald’s elected senate, as he continued. “We have confirmation of sentient life, and the data received indicates, they are humanoid.”

  From Bron’s perspective, a dropped tailor’s nadle could have been heard in the reigning silence. His blue eyes, such a very pure shade of blue and a mark of his tribe, roamed over the gallery of his peers who were just as awestruck as he was.

  “Shall I show you our findings?” the president asked, but before anyone could offer an answer, he waved his hand over an outcropping of panels set in front of him on the higher dais. Almost instantly, a holographic image appeared but the images flashed by too quickly to see. That was, until the audio kicked in.

  “Hi, my name is Tiffany and I’m 29 years old. I’m into yoga, discovering new restaurants and spending time with just one special person,” the voice proclaimed. However, the voice that echoed around the room was disjoined from the vision of the brown-haired beauty captured in the holographic image before him. “I’m looking for a successful man who knows what he wants and makes me feel like a princess.”

  The words he heard were in the universal Picari language and did not match the movement of the woman’s mouth in the image. But oh dear Tsiran, those lips! Puffy and wetly gleaming in the vid, they captured the attention of every man in the room. As did her softly given giggle at the end of her speech.

  It had been so long, so many yons since the men of Galaxia had heard a female’s voice, much less the tinkling mirth in one. A delightful sound that held every Herald member spellbound.

  Bron felt his tailpor begin to swell at not only her image, of her pixilated perfection but at the sound of her merriment. From the shifting of his fellow Herald members, he knew he was not the only one affected.

  “Drone Six sent back thousands of these images and only by the use of a primer has our computer translated the words,” Stace pronounced into the microphone, his voice louder than the holographic female’s. “It seems we have not only discovered a planet of humanoids but also one that has females looking for mates.”

  There was the sound of movement and Bron found he was not alone in sitting straighter in his chair. Had President Allwyne said thousands, and all were looking for mates?

  “Our scientists are working with the programmers to determine the reason for the blue planet’s wealth of unmated females. As near as they can tell, outside of wars and disease, we find no reason to account for it. There is only a slight variance of male to female in their population.” With eyes the lightest of blue, Stace Allwyne allowed his gaze to peruse his fellow Herald senators. “I call for a list of both Galaxian and Nutrolite warriors who can leave within the next wert in order to begin the journey to this planet that they call ‘Earth’.”

  “We need a Quest Leader first,” male shouted from Bron’s right. He was not sure but thought it was from Macai, the senator from the electronic sector. Though he had never liked the man, Bron thought the man had a point.

  “I call forth Bronsyn Llent,” a booming voice called from his left. Bron jerked in surprise at his name.

  “Second?” Stace shouted into the microphone.

  “Here,” came the call and try as he might, Bron could not identify the speaker in the thirty-five members seated in a semi-circle around the president’s podium.

  “Any opposing?” Stace’s voice overshadowed the next audio, every eye glued to the image before them. It was of a human female with long flowing hair the color of ripe Nutrolian wheat, a blonde so light that it appeared white. She sighed and Bronsyn’s gaze moved to her beguiling green eyes, the color of a Galaxian sunrise that tilted when she smiled. He felt a flexing of his tailpor and tried to adjust himself secretly. However, by the other senator’s movements, all struggled to contain their body’s reactions to the beautiful female presented before them.

  There was no other sound within the Senate except for the robotic voice interpreting the speech of the glorious beauty before them, “I’m really into fitness and expect my mate to enjoy it too.”

  “Motion granted.” Stace murmured his eyes roaming over the holographic image, which had changed to a stunning and exotic, dark haired, ebony-eyed female. Almost as an after-thought he added, “I’ll review your selections of who will make the journey with you, Llent, within the hera.”

  Bron pounded a clenched fist to his chest as his agreement before swiftly turning away and exiting the huge hall. He had been preparing for just that moment in the five merts the drones had traveled. All he needed to do was contact Gwynt for the list of Nutrolites to be included in the mission before meeting with his president to confirm the warriors chosen.

  He had never expected himself to be chosen as part of the first wave of Searchers and was honored at the appointment. Although the responsibility in ensuring its successful outcome was daunting, Bronsyn’s heart lightened with the thought of again commanding and leading an exploratory team into space.

  ‘Tsiran’s toes!’ He thought, his long locks flowing behind him as he raced to his office. ‘It’s going to happen. It’s finally going to happen!’

  *.*.*.*.*

  A knock on her dressing room door had startled Leah in her perusal of her image in the three-way mirror.

  “Ley? How you doing?” Pam’s voice called out. Cracking the door, Leah poked her head out.

  “I need a smaller size,” she announced with a huge grin.

  Pam’s bright blue eyes rounded. “Again? So that’s, what? A ten or an eight?”

  Leah shot a glance behind her to check out the sagging seat of the trousers. “Let’s try a ten.”

  “Damn, girl,” Pam chuffed. “You’ve lost four sizes in six months?”

  Flicking her newly layered auburn hair over her shoulder, Leah felt the blush heat her chest before traveling up her neck. Instead of succumbing to her embarrassment, she threw the door open wider and turned so that her ass pointed at her friend to emphasize her original request. “I need a smaller size.”

  “Oh hell yeah, you do!” Pam bounced a palm off the doorway and shifted the pile of clothes draped over one arm. “Damn, girl. You weren’t kidding when you said heartbreak is the best diet in the world.”

  Leah felt her grin fade. Yes, those had been her words when she had discovered she had been steadily losing weight from her lack of appetite, only remembering to eat when she felt weak or nauseous.

  Which she knew was only one of the outcomes of her breakup. A direct result of when Tony had told her she was simply unacceptable as his girlfriend and possible wife. ‘You know my goals, Leah. I want to be a senator just like my dad.’ His measured voice, each word cutting her deep, explained why he could not see her any longer. ‘And I need a wife who can look the part. But, you’re just…’ Leah remembered the rake of his gaze and the accompanying hand-sweep that went from the crown of her head down to her toes. ‘…too big.’

  His words scoring themselves across her heart and dogging her every waking minute for the first year after their breakup.

  Leah swallowed deeply as she straightened. “I got his wedding invitation in yesterday’s mail.”

  Pam sighed and shook her head so hard her blonde curls swished against her neck. “Me too, although why the rat-bastard thought it was cool to do so boggles the mind.” She glanced up at her tall best friend. “And for the freaking record? No. We are not going.”

  “I hadn’t planned on it!”

  Pam narrowed her eyes as she studied Leah. “Calling bullshit on that, girlie.”

  “I’m not! Why would I even consider it?” Leah’s tone gave her thoughts away since it held a note of studied disbelief instead of something along the lines of what was true.
The fact that Leah flung her head while finger combing her bangs just proved Pam right. She wanted to go if only to satisfy her curiosity of the woman her ex had found oh-so very ‘acceptable’.

  Pam rolled her eyes, allowing her friend’s outright lie. “So I need to go back out there and grab all this shit in a size ten? Or should I grab some eights just to be on the safe side?”

  Leah exhaled and accepted the truce Pam offered. “Yeah, let’s try both.”

  The smaller woman beamed and Leah’s heart settled. Pam could be pushy, a little too zealous in ramming her brand of realism into Leah’s world, but she was a loyal friend and knew when to curb her enthusiasm.

  “Be right back, honey.”

  Leah cast another glance over her shoulder at all the material that furled around her much smaller bottom. Her mind wasn’t on the trousers or even her ass.

  It was questioning the small trickle of hope settling inside her heart.

  For absolutely no reason, no reason at all.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Bronsyn stood outside the president’s personal space and swallowed in an attempt to wet his severely dry throat. He had scrambled to reduce the two hundred and seventy thousand candidates into a list of only six warriors for the first search. Along with the starship’s crew and his warriors, that made a group of fourteen, not including medical personnel. However, he knew the sole responsibility, the crushing weight of securing viable brides, would rest on him and the first group’s shoulders alone. The overall plan as he knew it spoke of more waves, a second or even a third set of warriors given the opportunity to join with human females residing on the far distant blue planet. Six was such a small number when compared with their overwhelming need.

  Passing his hand over the field of the doorway’s panel, a two-note chime announced his presence. As he waited, Bronsyn, straightened his robes and shook his long hair in an effort to appear presentable.

  “Enter.” President Allwyne’s voice came through on a tinny note in the speaker of the multi-functional panel. As the entry portal opened, Bron steeled himself with an indrawn breath that he held deep inside his lungs. Stepping over the threshold, he caught sight of the other man. Built tall and broad, Bronsyn did not have a doubt that the political leader had once been a warrior of the Picari Protectorate, although the other man’s white hair attested to his age.

  Nonetheless, everyone knew the outward appearance of a warrior never reflected the strength of the man within.

  “Former General Bronsyn Llent reporting, sir,” Bron barked, holding himself in the pose required of all warriors within the Picari militia. The only thing missing was a salute but since Bronsyn had retired from the military, it was not expected.

  “Frack, Bron. At ease,” the president’s voice called and Bron’s moved over the room noting while it was not opulent, it was not austere either. “This is a meeting between Heralds, co-commanders if you will but nothing to do with our former occupations. Byze-wad shots okay with you?”

  Bronsyn nodded. Having only known of his supreme commander within the different ranks of the Protectorate, the casual elegance of the man before him was shocking. Eyeing the purple liquid in the glass offered to him, Bron waited. It would have been in bad taste to raise his glass to his lips prior to Allwyne’s toast.

  “To a successful mission,” the president offered with a wide smile.

  “To our success, your eminence.” Bron lightly touched his glass to the other and drank the potent alcohol down in one gulp. The liquid heated as it hit his throat and stomach, easing his nervousness at being one-on-one with the supreme leader of all of Galaxia.

  Waving a hand towards a table tucked into a corner, Bronsyn took the nearest chair as Allwyne sat across from him. “I have the list as requested, sir.”

  “Good, good,” the president responded, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Let’s see who you and Council member Strege have chosen.”

  Bron pulled up the list of candidates from his portable communications device and clicked an icon to allow for holographic imaging. “Per the guidelines, all potential candidates are between the ages of twenty-seven and thirty-five, in perfect health, not legally paired with another male and have sufficient income/assets in order to provide for his bride.”

  Allwyne’s eyes connected with Bron’s as he nodded his agreement. The strictures in the Herald meeting just after Ater and Castaic’s refusal to allow the Picari Alliance to fund the quest were clear. “Go on,” the older public official encouraged as he turned his eyes to the list hovering above the tabletop.

  “With the rules, it reduced the original applicants from over five hundred thousand to only two hundred and seventy thousand between Galaxia and Nutrol.” The sheer number of men who wanting to be a part of the first quest, exploratory or not, had shocked Bronsyn. “We then streamlined the list further by accessing the applicant’s service records, personality tests, and personal interviews.”

  “Did it help?”

  “Yes sir, it did.” Bron swallowed remembering the hours he spent sorting and then reviewing the information on each man. “But it only cut the list to five thousand, three hundred males.”

  Allwyne sat back in his chair, looking stunned. “Five thousand? By Tsiran’s beard, that’s still…”

  “Too many.” Bronsyn completed his president’s sentence without thinking. “For this first, the most important, mission anyway.” He hesitated, trying to think of the best way to explain the next step taken to further lessen the list. It had, in his opinion, been one of chance instead one that was based on a warrior’s integrity, honesty and valor. “In order to decrease it further, we employed a lottery.”

  The older man’s eyes moved swiftly from the holograph to Bron. “A lottery? You used a fracking lottery to choose the first team?”

  On one hand, it was comforting to know that the president disapproved of the use of randomness, the luck of the draw so to speak, in order to find the most suitable candidates. But Bronsyn and Gwynt, along with their team of advisors had no other choice. Not on such short notice−not when their quest was in less than a wert.

  “Yes sir,” was all Bron could reply. “The warriors chosen from Galaxia are Rykhan Nillr, Arbrynt Llow, and Tyshar Rell.” His finger moved and soon the image changed from a lengthy list to pictures of the three men randomly selected from Bronsyn’s home world. He gave his leader time to study both the three dimensional holos of the warriors and their dossiers. Even though the president’s schedule was full, the elder statesman took the time to read everything their files contained.

  Bron waited, offering no comment allowing Allwyne to scrutinize each document.

  Breaking the lengthy silence, the president stood up and stretched. “Another round before we review the Nutrolites?”

  “None for me, sir. I need to keep a clear head if I’m to meet with the warriors later.” Bronsyn shivered anticipation, and sensed a increase in both his breathing and his heartbeats at his own words. He had almost forgotten that he was to be a part of the men who would be journeying while recounting the candidates and the selection process to his Herald leader!

  “Did Stege and his team follow the same protocol in selecting?” Allwyne brought his small glass with him as he rejoined Bron at the table.

  “Yes, exactly the same.” Using a finger to swipe the Galaxian warrior information aside, Bron called up the list of Nutrolites chosen to participate in the quest. “Council member Strege supplied the information on the three candidates from Nutrol. They are: Gyard Trag, Laxon Satyl, and Wyst Marnd.”

  The president took just as long to peruse the other Protectorate’s information as he had the Galaxian warriors. Once space travel was established, the two planets enjoyed a friendly, easy association based on mutual trust and loyalty rather than simple proximity.

  Sighing, Allwyne eased back in his chair before emptying his drink. “I think you, Gwynt Strege, and your teams have done admirably well even if you had to have the computer make the
final choices randomly.” Setting the glass to one side, the president rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “Now it will be up to the joint Gal-Trol Committee to determine the specifics of your actual mission.”

  Bron felt his eyebrows squeeze together. “You mean there’s nothing already in place?”

  The side-to-side movement of his president’s head created a tightening in Bronsyn’s stomach. “Nothing concrete. Frankly, all focus has been on adapting a starship large enough to accommodate both your men and the supplies needed for your journey. We had just realized the scope of what we still needed based on the information from our drone. In light of what it has relayed back from this ‘Earth’, we’re going to have to re-think a lot of our original plans.”

  “For instance?” Bron’s mind was racing. What kind of new data had changed the mission’s parameters?

  President Allwyne sighed and pressed his palms flat against the tabletop. “For one, none of the reports downloaded were in Galaxian, Nutrol, or even in the more formal Picari language. So it will be up to you, the crew, and the warriors to learn to speak the planet’s language before you land.”

  Bronsyn blurted his next question without thinking. “How long is our anticipated journey?”

  “According to our team of scientists, approximately six merts.”

  “Six merts? That’s a ridiculously short time in order to become fluent in an alien language much less all the slang and nuances they are sure to use in their daily speech,” Bron warned and wondered if his appointment as leader of the quest was as much of a boon as he’d previously considered it to be.

  “Agreed. Additionally, there are concerns about a future bride’s willingness in leaving her home world and settle into life on Galaxia or Nutrol. From what we’ve seen of our first glimpses of this ‘internet’ which their world uses to communicate, Earth is a planet where the connection of family and friends is paramount to their species happiness.” The white-haired man watched Bronsyn closely for a reaction to his next words. “And they have yet to achieve our same levels in the areas of technology, manufacturing, farming, or animal husbandry.”