The Impatient Lord

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Olena began to hum. Riona laughed, recognizing the old pirate drinking song.

  “And we sail the high skies looking for gold,” Olena sang softly.

  “Looking for treasures that never grow old,” Riona added, louder.

  Olena laughed to discover her new friend knew the words and they both instantly burst into drunken concert, “The wind in our sails, lads, the stars at our feet, as we plunder for women, thick brown and good mead!”

  They fell over laughing, barely able to get the last part out.

  Riona had spent the last month being pampered and primped. Personal droids were assigned to each room. There were cooking units in each of their quarters that could materialize almost any culinary delight. She readily admitted she loved everything about the ride. Who wouldn’t? Massages and manicures, pedicures and servants… Plus, the ship had a medic unit. Free health maintenance.

  Happiness and bliss. Happiness and bliss.

  Riona’s stomach hurt from laughing. She fell to the side, dropping her arm before tossing her disc at the game board. It slid off course and was electrocuted into dust. She laughed harder.

  Smirking, Olena continued, “These dopey brides actually think they’re going to marry royalty. I mean, the whole rumor about there being four princes going to attend is just an advertising technique to get women to sign up. They’ll probably end up with farmers and servants. There has to be a reason the Draig don’t let the people talk to each other before the ceremony. My guess, the men are stupid. The best we can hope for is they shut up and look pretty. Yeah, like anyone ever found true love at the end of a glowing crystal.”

  “Glowing crystal?” Riona interrupted.

  “Yeah, you know about the crystals, right?”

  Riona shook her head in denial. “I didn’t get around to the whole wedding ceremony uploads, just the planetary survival facts.” Mainly because she had no intention of going through with an archaic ceremony. Once they told the right person why they were there, surely Riona and her sister would be excused from the whole contracted marriage thing.

  Out of boredom, Riona had taken advantage of some of the basic Qurilixen uploads. The process worked using the ship’s computer to load information directly into the brain. It made universal understanding a lot easier and more efficient. Riona had researched practical things—the planet, the people, a general sense of where they were going in the universe on the off chance she had to steal a ship and escape.

  Olena motioned to her neck, absently waving her finger back and forth. “They wear the crystals around their necks and, when they look at their future woman, the rock starts to glow. Apparently, it reacts to their level of horniness of something.”

  “You’re joking,” Riona drawled skeptically.

  “Maybe about the horniness levels part,” Olena admitted, chuckling as she lifted her glass of Old Earth whiskey to her lips. Taking a drink, she sputtered a little and said, “This stuff is surprisingly good…after you’re drunk of course and really can’t taste it anymore.”

  “What are medic units for if not to cure a hangover,” Riona answered. She too lifted a glass of whiskey to her lips and coughed lightly at the initial sip before swallowing a mouthful of the hard liquor. “These food simulators really do make anything.”

  “Too bad they can’t materialize space credits. Wouldn’t that be something? I’d buy this ship and kick everyone off, you and the pilots not included.”

  “Thanks.” Riona lifted her glass.

  Olena studied her liquor thoughtfully and mused, “I suppose it’s easy for the Draig to say I love you to one of the only women on the entire planet.”

  Riona followed the changing conversation with ease. “How else are the poor bastards going to get a little happy-happy for their little happies?”

  Qurilixen was inhabited by primitive males similar to Viking clans of Medieval Old Earth—not that Riona knew too much about Old Earth. Some scientist theorized that many of the humanoids had started on Old Earth long, long ago because of some genetic similarities, but Riona wasn’t much for science. Ancient history was just that—history. Today is what mattered.

  The Draig race worshipped many gods, favored natural comforts to modern technical conveniences and preferred to cook their own food without the aid of a simulator. They were classified as warriors, 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. All in all, it sounded rather dull.

  “If you’re so against this marriage,” Riona said, “why are you here?”

  “I wanted breast enlargements,” Olena answered, her face serious. She puffed out her chest against the cotton robe. “But Gena’s been in the machine for the last week growing her two-ton rocket blasters and I can’t get an appointment.”

  Riona instantly burst into another fit of laughter. She gasped for breath, reaching for her whiskey glass on the floor next to her. Gena wasn’t well liked on the ship and was often avoided. The woman was annoying, thinking and talking only of herself and her new breast enhancements.

  The sound of the door sliding open caught her attention and both women turned to see who’d interrupted. Aeron stood staring at them, arms crossed.

  “Speaking of two-ton rocket blasters,” Olena mumbled, pushing to her feet. She wobbled but didn’t fall. “I should go before you two explode and take out half the ship.”

  Riona saw her sister’s tight expression and felt the laughter draining out of her. Aeron wasn’t exactly pleased with Riona’s method of getting her to Qurilixen and she had made her displeasure known every time they crossed paths. Okay, admittedly, Riona should have perhaps told her sister what was going on before she had her on the bridal ship and in deep space. Honestly, she kind of thought Aeron would have noticed the giant wedding banner as they boarded the ship.

  “Are you drunk?” Aeron demanded.

  “Apparently not enough,” Riona mumbled as Olena left them alone. She ambled to her feet, bumping the playing board. Some of her unused discs skidded along the floor. Instantly, a cleaning droid activated and began attending to the mess. She stepped around the machine to get to the bed. All around them was every starship convenience known to humanoids—beauty droids, cosmetic enhancements, food simulators that could materialize almost anything they desired and an oversized bed to pass out on.

  “I can’t believe you’re drinking. I thought we’d made plans to get together to discuss our plans once we land.”

  “Plans for making plans,” Riona mumbled, adding sarcastically, “Yep, that sounds like me, Federation. I’m a planner.”

  “Gah!” Aeron threw up her arms. “Why are you always like this? I can’t even have a simple conversation with you. And I told you, don’t call me Federation.”

  “Listen, Federation.” Riona sat, wanting nothing more than to fall against the mattress and into oblivion. She saw no point in worrying about tomorrow when today was to be lived. “I have a plan. We arrive tomorrow with the other brides. We blend in so we can be assured of getting off this ship without any incident. From what I gathered, we get off the ship, are presented before the potential husbands, attend a party, eat, drink, be merry, and maybe get a little happy-happy with the locals if they’re cute.”

  “I am not getting a little happy-happy or anything else with the locals,” Aeron swore.

  “Suit yourself. I hear they’re sexy.” Riona shrugged. “If you change your mind, I’ve got an extra set of transmitters.”

  “You actually think the primitive people are going to want to use transmitters to exchange pleasure essences?” Aeron laughed, the sound mocking and a little bitter. Riona stiffened. “Seriously, Ri? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but universal men tend to want the real thing. You might get someone to try it out of mere curiosity, but do you really think when they find out what our heritage is they’re going to want spend the night with either of us? We don’t react like normal women. The only men in
the galaxies who understood that little fact exploded.”

  “So you haven’t…” Riona asked.

  “And start the clock ticking? I think not. I haven’t met anyone worth dying for.”

  “Well—” Riona swallowed, uncomfortable with the course of the conversation, “—I haven’t either and I’m not going to. Not until I collect on those fifty-thousand space credits I figure you owe me.”

  “What?”

  “It’s your fault I lost that match. Now I can’t go back to Torgan, or half the other haunts I enjoy, for a very long time. Range will be sure to tell everyone I reneged on our bet.”

  “Would you stop blaming me for your gambling?” Aeron snorted in disgust.

  “I didn’t ask you to come to Torgan. You did that on your own. You came to me.” Riona glared at her sister. This is why they didn’t talk. Every conversation seemed to detonate a full-blown fight.

  “I told you I’m trying to save a planet,” Aeron said. “I’m sorry if I think that’s slightly more important than your game.”

  Unable to stay upright, Riona lay back on the bed and stared at the metal ceiling. The weld lines blurred in a drunken haze. “You know, I don’t even think you’ve thanked me for getting you on this ship. All you’ve done is complain the whole ride.”

  “I will not let what happened to our home world happen to the people of Qurilixen.” Aeron must have realized Riona’s irritation over the mention of their home world, because she instantly lightened her tone. “This isn’t just about our childhood home. This is about a planet that needs saving. If the Tyoe succeed in their plans, they will kill everyone over mining rights. I can’t let the Draig race become exterminated when I can try to stop it.”

  “We,” Riona stated, still studying the ceiling grates. “We will not let it happen. Listen, we go, we smile, we pretend to consider our options, we drink, we dance or whatever it is these Draigs do for fun, and then you do what you have to and we leave. If something unexpected happens, we deal with it. There is the plan. Simple and easy to remember. I’m sure if you ask around, you’ll find whoever is in charge of the mines. Just don’t be late getting back to the ship in the morning. All the unchosen brides are guaranteed a ride back and we don’t have the money to pay for another way offworld. I’ll meet you here and we’ll slip away as soon as the boat docks somewhere inhabitable and I’ll get to work deleting our contracts out of the Galaxy Brides system. It will be as if this never happened.”

  Silence answered her, but Riona didn’t open her eyes to look. A long moment passed. She imagined Aeron glaring at her, ready to explode. Instead, the door slid open. Quietly, Aeron said, “Thank you, Ri.”

  Riona looked over in surprise, just in time to see the door sliding shut behind her sister.

  Chapter Two

  Lithor Republic Ambassadorial Spacecraft, planet of Qurilixen’s outer orbit

  Lord Miroslav, Ealdorman of Draig, absently watched as his home world passed across the viewing portal. Mountains and forest seemed to meld seamlessly together, so small he could block the entire planet from his eye line with both hands. Absently, he drew his finger along his line of vision, tracing what would be the route he’d soon travel from his home in the northern mountains to the Draig royal palace where the upcoming Breeding Festival was to be held. The path reminded him of the curve of a woman’s hip.

  From the sky, Qurilixen appeared reddish-brown, but where he lived in the mountains, the earth was red with streaks of grey. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew exactly where his castle home lay nestled in a valley. It gave him some comfort to know the fortress was hidden from view, virtually undetectable from space.

  Here on the ship in his duties as Mining Ambassador, he was Lord Miroslav, but at home with his three brothers, he was simply Mirek. He preferred being Mirek. His family was everything to him. Unfortunately, family consisted of merely the four noble brothers. Mirek’s parents were no longer living. None of the brothers had been blessed with a wife and consequently had no children.

  From space, there were no shadows over the land as the suns hit the surface at different angles. The temperatures on the planet were moderate to warm, though it could get cold in the highest mountains. Near the royal palace at the base of the mountains, the earth was a dark red and filled with nutrients to support the colossal trees of the southern forest. With three suns, the planet received a lot of light. Some of the vegetation was so large that the space craft he was on could fit inside a hollowed-out tree trunk.

  The two yellow suns were great for the plants, but the radiation from the blue sun affected the people. Radiation altered the men’s genetics and made Qurilixian-born women rare. Maybe one in a thousand births was a Qurilixian female. If not for bridal trade, his people would have gone extinct generations back.

  Marriage was a complicated matter. The fact they had no women of their own was why the services of corporations like Galaxy Brides were so invaluable. In return for Galaxy Brides arranging the screening and transportation of women willing to marry a stranger, his people mined a specialized ore needed to make high-quality ship fuel. Since the Draig rarely left the planet and didn’t use landcrafts to get around, they didn’t really have a practical use for the ore.

  The next marriage festival was soon, and Mirek was duty bound to attend, and to keep attending year after long year until he found a wife. This was to be his fourth ceremony. Such continual bad luck did not make him look forward to another failed attempt. Like all men, he wanted a wife, yearned for one. It was their duty to marry and have children, to carry on the family name and the Draig culture.

  If Mirek was honest with himself, he would admit he wanted more than to carry on the family line. He wanted the entire experience of having a woman. Sex he’d had, but it had been meaningless physical exertions with offworld travelers. He wanted more. He wanted a woman that would wake up beside him, whisper his name, laugh with him, honor him with sons, grace him with smiles and soft touches and…

  Mirek frowned, not allowing his thoughts to drift to such things. The gods had not blessed him. Nor had they blessed his brothers. It was a dark shadow that hung over his family’s honor. It was quite possible his family line would end with his generation.

  For his eldest brother, Bron, this year marked his seventh attempt at finding a bride. Undoubtedly, the High Duke would be in a vile mood during the festivities. The second oldest, Alek, faced his fifth attempt. That left the youngest, Vladan. It was Vlad’s first year. Mirek almost felt bad for his little brother. He could remember well the hope and excitement that had filled him during his first festival. There was no reason to believe that Vlad’s luck would be any different than his siblings when it came to a life mate.

  One unintentional blessing on this year was that his four royal cousins, the Draig princes, would be searching for their brides for the first time. Their royal attendance would take the notice from Mirek’s family.

  The very idea of a lonely marriage ceremony made him tired.

  “It is well you speak, Lord Miroslav, Ealdorman of Draig. We agree to your proposal to send a proposal to your royal family for consideration of our terms for the agreement held herein.”

  At the steady, soft voice, Mirek turned. He let all thoughts of marriage fade from his mind as he concentrated on his duties. The Lithorian people were a tedious race, small in stature and great in manners. It had taken Mirek years of training to learn just the basic Lithorian etiquettes. However, it was worth it. They produced the best chocolate in the galaxy and every female on the planet practically went crazy for just a taste of it.

  Mirek averted his eyes to the left, bent his head to the side and answered, “By the graces of the Lithorian people, I thank you on behalf of my people the Draig, Barun Monke of the Lithor.” Mirek reached out his hands, palms facing up. A thick stack of parchment was placed on them.

  “The proposal document, Lord Miroslav, Ealdorman of Draig,” the barun said.

  “By the graces of the Lithorian peo
ple, I thank you again, Barun Monke. I will personally deliver this into the hands of Prince Olek, the Draig Royal Ambassador.”

  Mirek did not envy his cousin, the prince. The proposal would just be the first of several hundred pages worth of negotiations that would basically end up being a simple straight trade, Galaxa-promethium ore for chocolate.

  “As agreed,” the barun acknowledged. “The airlock is being initiated between our two ships if you are ready to follow me, Lord Miroslav, Ealdorman of Draig.”

  “By the graces of the Lithorian people, I thank you again, Barun Monke.” Mirek sighed, trying to fight the headache forming behind his right eye. It was the same headache he received any time he had to deal with these particular negotiators. Too bad today’s appointment wasn’t a stranded Galaxy Playmate ship filled with beautiful, lonely, unmated women. What better distraction to take his mind from the upcoming disappointment of yet another failed ceremony?

  Gods’ bones, he missed the feel of soft flesh and sweet lips—even if it was merely a physical release. Fleeting pleasures were better than no pleasure at all.

  * * *

  Breeding Festival Grounds, near the Draig Palace, planet of Qurilixen

  Riona winked at the Galaxy Brides crewman. Though the entire section set aside for brides was automated to ensure the bridal cargo arrived uncompromised, the workers flying the spacecraft were not. It hadn’t taken much to hack into the system via a beauty droid’s interior drive and strike up a conversation with a crewman, which had led to a game of chance, which had led to a natural win, which had led to Riona getting a private exit off the ship away from the parade of brides.

  “Thank you, Charl,” she said. “Remember to watch your mouth. It gives your hand away every time.”