Rykhan (Book 1 of Mate Search Series)

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  Bron found his mouth was dry and tried to swallow before asking, “Earth is a backward planet? Like Castaic, then?”

  “That is still being researched. Because we are still in the process of sorting through all the data we are accumulating, we have not fully made any solid decisions. Obviously we will, need to stay in constant communication with the Searcher to keep you apprised of our findings and any additional revisions as the mission progresses.”

  Bron’s eyebrows rose up sharply at the name of the latest star-cruiser consigned. He was more than familiar with it, following the newsfeeds describing the craft under construction. Touted as being ‘the best in Galaxian starship building’, the Searcher was said to be faster than any other starship available, but also more comfortable. Reports cited it contained many amenities during space travel only previously available on the planet’s surface. It also was large enough to carry a scout-craft, or shuttle allowing the Searcher to remain in orbit while the scout-craft could carry a complement of six.

  “The starship is being stocked with enough supplies, extra parts, and rations to last twenty merts.” Allwyne’s voice sounded regretful, but firm. “You and your team will have six merts to travel to ‘Earth’, only six to meet and secure brides before returning. We have allowed two merts leeway in your mission. Something I know isn’t much but was all we could do in the time allotted.”

  Bron nodded while his mind filled with all the different scenarios that could skew that timeline to Posket and beyond. All it would take would be an engine failing twice or more than one thruster going awry at the same time. On the other hand, they could encounter navigational issues that might send them off-course in an unknown star-system. Moreover, none of those situations addressed any issues encountered with their potential mates. The list was endless.

  Nevertheless, the quest would happen because there were no other options in securing their future.

  And the clock was ticking.

  Chapter Three

  “I think I’m ready,” Leah announced sotto voce, tipping her chin down to Pam’s ear so she could hear over the noise in the coffee bar where they were waiting to pick up their orders. “To you know, like, date again.”

  Pam’s head whipped up in shock. Leah had avoided the conversation for months. The convo about when she was gonna put her toe into the pool of dating again.

  “Seriously?” Although her question was soft, incredulous even, there was a happy note in it. Or was it along the lines of ‘it’s about freaking time’?

  “Yeah.”

  “So what do you want to do? Where do you want to go? A club? Maybe that new Jazz bar on 7th?” Her enthusiasm made me smile.

  Leah carefully considered the question. She’d already worked out certain rules for herself: nothing but the one-on-one thingy at the beginning, and that the venue would be somewhere where everyone knew that the other was actively seeking a partner, not just a hook-up. Because she absolutely didn’t want a potential guy to have any allusions about being together. She wanted more than just a warm body to fill her bed.

  She needed a man to fill her heart.

  “Speed-dating might work as would a single’s mixer. I’m not opposed to meeting someone on the one of those dating websites although that’s going to take more time to weed through the dicks and assholes.” Of course, Leah had done her research before confessing to Pam.

  “We’ll need pictures and to word your profile just right. Not to mention to get our names listed with the different single clubs in and around Phoenix.” With her words coming faster and faster, Pam’s ideas flowed freely.

  “So you’re gonna join me?” Leah wasn’t like Pam, who she knew liked to play fast and loose with her men, declaring she wasn’t marriageable material. According to Pam, her early twenties were for partying and having a good time. Too premature for her to consider connecting with just one guy. Once, she’d even drunkenly announced she would search for ‘her future children’s father’ in her thirties and not a moment before.

  “Be your wingman? Why not?” Her exclamation included a shrug as she aimed a sultry smile at the young, gorgeous barista who handed her the tall cup. She licked her bottom lip and both women smiled at his blush as he followed her tongue’s trajectory. Turning away, Leah heard her utter, “god but I love their innocence!”

  Leah rolled her eyes before searching out a table. “You love how you can rattle them, you mean.”

  Plunking her paperboard cup on the table, Pam grinned before dropping down into the comfortable armchair that was her seat. “I’ll admit it. Proudly too.” She looked around her high-backed chair at the kid still mesmerized by her attention. “I like to make a guy who only finds brunettes interesting, notice me. The ones that like big ba-dungas look at and pay attention to my perky chest. And those that enjoy long, long legs? My goal is to find their gaze on my curvaceous but much shorter ones.” She shrugged and Leah giggled.

  Her eyes drifted back to her companion with the smile in them. “I want them to realize they really don’t have a type, that it’s not just one kind of girl that floats their boat. And by the time we’re deeply into swabbing each other’s tonsils, their idea of what’s perfect has gone right the hell out the window.”

  Leah brought her cup to her lips to both blow and sip on her hot chai latte. “Cruel, much?”

  “Nah,” Pam muttered before she also took a drink. “Just trying to educate them and get them to think outside the box. Challenge them a little on what’s sexy.”

  Her words hit Leah hard. “You’re talking about what I confessed to you about Tony?”

  “Damn straight!” Her eyes were dead serious and stared into Leah’s. “He was an ass-wipe of the first order. Sunk so deep in his fantasy that he didn’t recognize the beauty he’d been holding since high school. Politics? Smolitics! He wants arm candy but I’d be willing to bet this first Mrs. Lachlan will be cheating on him within a year.”

  Leah shot straight up in her chair. “But…”

  Her flattened palm came up and severed the stare. “Save it. I have no love of Tony. Nor should you.” Her hand drifted down until Leah could see her face again. “He was a douche of the worst sort. Which means he strung you along before he finally let you go in order for him to begin his ‘grand plan’ with that blonde doll? What was her name? Lauren.” Tilting her head back, Pam let long loud laugh loose. “Lauren Lachlan? Seriously?”

  Leah turned away, knowing her friend was only speaking the truth as she saw it.

  A truth Leah was beginning to agree with on a cellular level.

  Tony hadn’t loved her, even though he’d said the words often enough. What he’d loved was that she’d never denied him access to her body. He’d loved the way she cut classes when he’d said he needed her. That was until she found her scholarship in jeopardy for non-attendance.

  “You need a whole new breed of men, Ley,” Pam intoned sagely. “A man that towers head and shoulders above you and is dazzled by all the awesomeness you bring to the table.”

  Leah ducked her head, bringing her lips back to the cup. Yeah, like that would happen. Towering above her? Those men were so few and far between, so rare it was laughable.

  However, Leah couldn’t leave her girl hanging.

  “From your mouth to God’s ear,” she offered up as almost more than a prayer.

  *.*.*.*.*

  “Mela trey fra blesod!” Wyst yelled, jumping up from his chair in order to pace.

  “English only,” Bronsyn advised for the fifth time during that morning’s meeting. Although he too was frustrated by what was fast becoming an exercise in futility with their studies of the planet that they were going to be calling home for the next six merts.

  “English?” Rykhan asked, sarcasm dripping in each syllable. “This is very crazy. Which is a word-for-word translation. And I must agree with Wyst’s pronouncement no matter what language we use.”

  Bron looked over the group, gauging each man’s reaction to the latest data received
—the one reporting Earth did not have a single universal language, a single universal anything! “I have sent a detailed request to the Quest Committee as well as both the Galaxi Herald and the Nutrolite Conclave explaining our situation while asking for more specific coordinates so we can narrow our fields of study…”

  “As if that will help,” Arbrynt complained loudly, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. “Even with coordinates, our research has shown land masses, even within 1,000 square gipe areas, has different laws, political and monetary systems…”

  “Culture and mores, diets and diseases…” the blonde Nutrolite, Laxon, interjected.

  “As well as different styles of dress and expectations regarding the conduct of their males,” Gyard stated from his place next to the large window of the observation deck, which Bron had commandeered as the conference room for his group. Actually outside of the fitness room, no other area on board would comfortably hold all seven of the large warriors.

  Bron cleared his throat to subtly regain both the attention of the men and take back control of the meeting. “I’m sure once we’re given the Committee’s best idea of where we’ll land to begin our quest…”

  “That’s fracking ridiculous!” Arbrynt’s voice was loud in the chamber, giving testament to his frustration. “We’ve been studying for six werts now only to discover, what? That English is the primary language for most but not the entire planet, and is only one of thousands that are spoken? What about the different varieties of English, different accents and word choices in the various regions? We don’t have the time, or the skill-set to learn all of them even with the help of the sleep tapes!”

  Tyshar, the most studious of the group, finally spoke. “Commander, with your permission, I can provide an example of just one of the many things I’ve discovered that are illogical and cause for our concern.”

  Bronsyn nodded to the black-haired warrior as he opened his communication device pulling up a display to hover over the center of the table. “Here is a satellite image of one of the separate land masses on the Earth planet.” Pushing another button on his unit, another more colorful image appeared of the same continent, but bisected with multiple lines. “This is what in English is referred to as a map. Now watch what happens when I zoom in on an exact location on each.”

  All eyes were on the images as Tyshar adjusted them. More lines became visible on the colorful map while only more distinct terrain was seen on the satellite image.

  “What causes that?” Arbrynt asked quietly, his confusion evident.

  The shrug of Tyshar’s shoulders was eloquent enough, but he explained what he had surmised anyway. “It appears they have divided their world into segments. As near as I can determine, the different segments are broken into countries, states, and then counties of this particular area.”

  “But what does that mean?” Gyard demanded, coming closer to the table to better peer at the dissimilar images. “Why aren’t the lines showing on the one taken from their air space?”

  “And who the frack are ‘they’?” Rykhan grumbled, running a hand over his head to smooth his chestnut-colored waves although the expression in his unusual blue-green eyes did not seem questioning in the least.

  The tension in the room was high, enough that Bronsyn’s own body tensed as he tried to formulate an answer. However, he had never experienced what Tyshar exposed, not in any of his travels. For a single world to divide itself, to segment their societies and systems deliberately was unheard of even in the far reaches of his exploratory missions.

  A two-note bleep rang out before communication officer Myrrick’s voice resounded within the room. “Committee call, Commander Llent.”

  “Thank you. On screen in observation if you please, Myrrick.” Bron was glad the tension he was feeling was not evident in his voice. The window switched to the image of Gwynt, and Bronsyn’s shoulders relaxed. Perhaps the Committee had finally chosen a landing site.

  “Greetings, Quest warriors!” Stege’s face seemed more weathered, more lined than the last time he had seen him. Bronsyn thought it was due to the all the numerous projects that Gwynt was entrusted with as head of the Committee. “It seems the markers dropped at the relay points are functional and we can finally talk in real time.”

  As the Searcher had traveled, small electronic markers had been set next to each of the relays the droids had left behind on their journey in the hunt for sentient life. The markers boosted communication signals and the closer the starship remained to one, the less time their communications took to travel the distance between their home worlds and the ship.

  “Greetings. What news do you have for us?” Bron hated to be so blunt but with the frustration his warriors were exhibiting, he thought it was important to get down to business as soon as possible.

  “We have narrowed our possibilities for landing sites to…” Gwynt began, but he interrupted by Wyst’s growl, Rykhan’s mumbled expletive, Gyard’s foot stomp, and the sound of Arbrynt’s slap of the table. Only Bronsyn, Tyshar, and Laxon remained silent and unmoving.

  “We need a Tsiran blessed fracking landing point!” Arbrynt shouted at the screen. “Just one! Why is that so hard for your Committee to make a decision?”

  Gwynt blinked at the reaction of the large men and swallowed at Arbrynt’s question, although it might have been at its disrespectful tone. “There are so many variables to consider and other issues we must research within each choice. It makes a clear-cut, snap decision both logical and safe very difficult. Our selection must be made with full understanding of where we are sending you.”

  “We are aware of that, Gwynt.” Bronsyn tried to be the voice of reason for both he and his men but even he was tired of the vacillations of the Committee. They needed a decision and they needed it immediately! “What are your choices?”

  Gwynt rattled off coordinates, or the longitude and latitudes as named on Earth, and Tyshar painstakingly entered in each one. As the satellite image became dotted with symbols, Bron saw more than a couple of the brawny warriors begin to fidget, scowl and mumble. Gwynt’s voice wound down and Bronsyn decided it was time for the Committee, especially the head of the decision-makers, to witness what his men were experiencing. The slow process of choosing any course of action always took a toll, but especially in this scenario where so much was at stake.

  “What say you, warriors?” Bronsyn asked, casting his eyes around the table now that all the warriors were seated, although their varying postures attested to their frustration.

  “No snow. No cold weather,” Wyst announced with a headshake, not specifying a particular place but rather his choices in Earth’s different climates. “And since we’ll be there during an Earth’s winter…”

  “Only the top half has the coldness…” Gwynt stuttered, seemingly surprised that a warrior would voice his opinion so readily. Usually the large, burly Protectorates of Galaxia and Nutrol were more circumspect, following the dictates of those in charge without offering their views on any decision made. However, the choice of these specific warriors was mainly because they had stood out within the ranks.

  “Yes, we are aware of the climate changes that take place on Earth,” Tyshar added but even his normally cultured voice sounded strained. “When it is cold on one half, the other half has heat. I believe they call them seasons. Hot is summer and cold is winter, with spring and autumn marking the changes.”

  “Don’t they have anything more moderate? Something in between hot or cold?” Laxon, one of the quietest men in the group, used his forefinger and middle digit to define a region that spanned the middle of the planet to indicate what he meant. The other men around the table all nodded their agreement, up to and including Bron.

  “As you can see, there are four choices within the area you just denoted.” Why did Gwynt sound almost offended by Laxon’s action? Was it the full agreement of the group in superseding the recommendations of the decision-makers? “Is there one choice you prefer over the others?”

  B
ronsyn’s at each man in turn. The warriors’ gazes collided with one another before moving on. A chin-lift from each of the tall, burly men showed agreement for their ultimate destination without Bron’s help or guidance.

  Nevertheless, it was Gyard, the warrior holding the most stripes, who finally spoke.

  “33.4500 degrees North, by 112.0667 degrees West,” the largest and most muscle-bound of the Quest’s enclave pronounced as he flipped the lower layers of his yellow, long hair over his shoulder, earning him multiple head nods. The other men under Bronsyn’s command heaved relieved sighs at the verbalization of their choice.

  Bron, as the sole minority of one still glued to the view-screen, sighed. However, it was Gwynt who responded. “Very well. I will inform the other members of the Quest Committee of your decision.”

  “Can anyone read English yet?” Tyshar asked into the silence the room following Gwynt’s sign-off. When he didn’t receive an answer, Tyshar pulled up the online dictionary with an audio program so all could hear the name of the city chosen.

  “No matter how you pronounce it,” Rykhan drawled, pushing himself away from the table. “We’ll be calling it ‘home’ for a half yon.”

  As the other men began to stand, Bron held up his hand and asked them to wait. “Now that we have the place, it is important that we begin to study. I want each man to choose one of the categories I cited earlier and thoroughly study the nuances for the place we will find ourselves upon landing. There will be a daily meeting and you are expected to share your knowledge at that time.”

  An electronic voice filled the room. “Phee-nicks” was all it said.

  Rising to his feet, Rykhan spoke. “I’ll take culture and mores.”

  “I’ll study diet, health issues, and diseases,” Laxon offered.

  Gyard shifted in his chair before crossing his arms on his chest. “I have an interest in their laws.”