Spark: Galaxy Alien Mail Order Brides (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “Told you,” Kal said, giving a subtly meaningful gesture. “Lots of mating opportunities.”

  “In a moment,” the intercom voice continued, “you will feel the shuttle attach to the main starship. Any turbulence you feel will be natural. At that time, you will be unhooked from your launch seats and guided to embark on the main starship. From there you will be led to your suites by a personal droid. In a few hours, you will begin the first of several necessary lessons to help you integrate into Earth culture. We must remind you, Earth humans are not aware of alien life outside of their own. Informing them of it, or providing proof, is in direct violation of Federation law and your contracts. The only exception is any female you choose to mate. All necessary papers will be filed for your new mate when you leave the planet. Detailed information chips are in your personal quarters. Please, let your droid know if you have any requests or ship suggestions to make your flight more pleasurable. Thank you for joining us on the Galaxy Alien Mail Order Brides’ maiden Earth voyage.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” Sev said under his breath.

  “What’s new?” Vin answered. “You have a bad feeling about everything.”

  “No galactic traffic?” Sev insisted. “What happens if this company decides to pull out and leave us there? Or the Earth beings discover their ship in their airspace, and it becomes an intergalactic event, and we’re stranded. How are we getting home?”

  “Stop worrying so much, Sev. This is exactly why you need to go on an adventure. You’ve been cooped up in the settlement too long. A little female companionship will make your grumpiness all better. Besides, since when have you been adverse to a little danger?” Kal kept a straight face as the words coming out his mouth began to repeat in his mind like a haunting echo in a chamber. Yes, officially, Earthlings as a whole did not know aliens were real, and no first contact had been made. However, the public being blissfully unaware wasn’t the same as the secret governmental groups being uninformed.

  The fact was, Sev’s reservations were worthy to note. Kal had done his homework before booking the trip, beyond the propaganda advertisements Galaxy Alien Mail Order Brides had sent to entice him. There were countless stories featuring Earth floating around the back channel communication forums to corroborate his cousin’s concerns. From the abduction of unsuspecting aliens for secret Earth government studies by space pirates who were not averse to trafficking in return for valuable planetary resources to the cloning black market where a healthy alien specimen were experimented on and studied like lab rats in a cage. And then there were the savants, a half human half alien creature, used by Earth’s organized crime families to track alien life forms, a crude but effective way of hunting visiting offworlders trying to blend in.

  “Don’t worry. It’s gonna be just fine. We’re gonna have the time of our lives.” Kal put on a brave smile as he test drove some of the dialogue he’d learned from the communications Earthlings had been sending over the transmission waves into space.

  “What is he saying?” Vin asked his brother.

  “Hit the back of his head. I think he is having some kind of brain episode,” Sev ordered.

  Vin lifted his hand.

  Kal leaned away, with a laugh. “It’s one of Earth’s most popular dialects, a version of it at least. They’ll upload it into our brains so we can communicate. Doesn’t it sound entertaining?”

  Sev didn’t seem convinced.

  Conscious of what the other travelers around them might be thinking Kal raised a hand as if to apologize for the noise they were making and then he settled back in his seat to try to conceal his excitement. “Seriously, I promise, you have nothing to worry about. All the details will be taken care of in our travel kits just as soon as we choose what kind of Earth being we’d like to become. Here, look at some examples.”

  Kal handed a couple of holographic chips to his cousins so they could look through the various archives of information.

  “What transpires while you are in Vegas will continue to reside within Vegas,” Vin read a holographic translation of an Earth photo advertisement. “Huh, I wonder what they mean by that.”

  With a wink, Kal tried to bolster the mood. “That Earth women better watch out. Things are about to heat up.”

  Chapter Two

  Las Vegas, Nevada, United States of America, Planet Earth

  “Carrie Peterson.”

  Carrie lifted her hand and accepted the thick packet given to her by her cousin’s wedding planner, Sandra, from across the table. She’d been trying hard not to stare at the dancing fountain outside the hotel restaurant window on the Las Vegas Strip. Sadly, water droplets were infinitely more interesting than what was happening this week.

  Around the fountain, couples strode hand in hand. Some were blissfully lost as they clung to each other like newlyweds while others appeared comfortable from years together. They had a bond that was almost magnetic when looked at from afar. Carrie realized as she spotted another couple arguing, unashamedly, that for as well known as Vegas was for gambling, it was also a place where true love could be tested.

  “Carrie!” Missy’s voice, was like a slap in the back of the head from an overbearing mistress.

  This event was an obligation family wedding, and Carrie was an obligation bridesmaid. Traditionally, she was pretty sure bridesmaids weren’t supposed to be obviously ranked in order from the maid of honor to last pick, but she was continually number seven of seven on all the activity lists and itineraries. She was last in line at the dress fittings, which incidentally made the others silently blame her for being late to the following group party. And she was introduced verbally like an afterthought of, These are my sorority sisters Kitty, Dixie, Trixie, Pixie, Secretly Drunken Not-so-secret Whore, and Pat…and, oh, yeah, number seven, the cousin my mom made me choose or else it would have looked bad in the societal papers. She wasn’t in our sorority. She was in a different sorority for like math people or something.

  Pat was the only one halfway nice to her, so Carrie always mentally called her by her real name.

  The squeeing sound started again. The sorority girls were very big on their loud squeaky noises and giggling. They loved their giggling. Numbers one through four had engaged and dropped out before actually finishing college. Bridesmaid number five graduated amongst rumors of an illicit affair with a professor and numerous academic probations. Pat graduated with a degree in hospitality, without scandal, and ran a fancy hotel for Carrie’s uncle. And the bride? Well, let’s just say a generous donation was made by Uncle Charles the year of Missy’s graduation.

  Carrie wasn’t anything like her cousin. She came from the studious side of the family. Both her father and her uncle had inherited great wealth from their grandmother, who had made her fortune bootlegging moonshine. Uncle Charles lived it up on the social scene and fueled his income by opening hotels and spas across the country. Dad spent most of his time bringing awareness to his charitable organizations and building educational centers in the Philippines.

  That’s how Carrie found herself the obligatory bridesmaid in her socialite cousin’s wedding, adding public family support since no one else from her side was going to bother to come. Of course, Missy couldn’t understand how anyone could choose manual labor over the joining of Missy Peterson to Charles Van Horne—or Chucky Van Horny, as his friends liked to call him—also known as the event of the decade. Since Missy was marrying a man with the same name as her father, everyone had settled on calling the groom Chucky.

  “Open your packet,” Missy ordered.

  Carrie realized she was the only member of the bridal party who hadn’t torn open the daily to-do list. As she pulled open the envelope, glitter fluttered down the front of her clothes. Someone had made a joke the night before about Carrie’s lackluster wardrobe. Pink and blue glitter clung to her black linen dress, and she knew she’d be finding specs of it for weeks to come.

  “Now you’re ready to party!” Missy began to laugh and clap her han
ds, prompting the others to do the same. Carrie merely gave a weak smile.

  “We have a busy day lined up today, ladies,” Sandra announced. “This morning we’re taking limos to the Hoover Dam. It’s a short forty-minute drive to the Nevada-Arizona border. Then—”

  “What? No!” Missy stamped her foot under the table. “I told you. Nothing boring.”

  “Your father thought the photos—” the wedding planner tried to explain.

  “I don’t care. This is my bachelorette week.” Missy pouted. “We’re already being followed around by the goons because daddy wanted it. I don’t want to spend my pre-wedding trekking the wilderness looking at a stupid water cork. It’s like a thousand degrees outside. Besides, he only wants the pictures for his stupid hotel brochures. I told him, I am not a catalog model. I’m high end.”

  Sandra appeared panicked as she averted her eyes to her clipboard. Carrie glanced at the hired bodyguards. They didn’t seem to care about Missy’s tirade.

  “It is only one of the greatest engineering marvels to come out of the Great Depression,” Carrie offered. Out of everything mentioned so far, the Hoover Dam outing actually sounded interesting.

  “You’re not funny,” Missy quipped in warning.

  “But I am,” Sandra inserted, though it was clear she was lying and covering for herself. “We have mimosas by the pool this morning!”

  Missy gasped as if relieved and began to laugh. The conversation quickly drifted toward new bathing suits and pool boys.

  “Missy, darling,” Carrie interrupted with an extra wide smile.

  Missy arched a brow, and all eyes turned toward Carrie.

  “I’m going to have to beg your forgiveness and bow out of the pool time this morning. The doctor doesn’t want me to get too much sun.” Carrie hoped they didn’t ask why. Her lie wasn’t all that thought out.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s fine. You’re not needed,” Missy said.

  “I was put on the same medication,” said Prixie, or Trixie, or whatever-her-name-was. “It was horrible. I was practically forced to live like a recluse.”

  “But I require your attendance at the introduction dinner tonight. We’re meeting the guys, and you’re expected to sit with your partner or else the table pairings will look uneven,” Missy said. “Since you’re single, Greg is your date this week.”

  Carrie nodded, hoping her smile looked genuine. Dinner with the groomsman sounded about as fun as a blind date with a parking meter.

  “If you play your cards right, you might get the next wedding. When Greg saw your picture, he couldn’t stop begging me to partner you with him. You should have a picture of him in your packet.” Missy looked at her expectantly, so Carrie was forced to glance inside the glitter-lined envelope and shake her head in denial. “No?” Missy gave the wedding planner a pointed look. “Sandra, why doesn’t Carrie have a picture of her groomsman? How is she supposed to know what to expect if she doesn’t have a picture? Really, Sandra, do I have to think of everything?”

  “Well, I…” Sandra looked at her clipboard as if it had all the answers.

  “I’ll take your word for it, cousin,” Carrie said, not caring what Greg looked like. Not to be too judgy, but she doubted the friend of a man who would marry Missy could be her soul mate.

  “Come on, ladies. It’s pool time.” Missy stood, clearly loving being the center of attention. The wedding planner went to sign for the breakfast tab. The bodyguards trailed after the group.

  Carrie didn’t bother to follow them as they left the restaurant. She slowly picked up her coffee cup and sighed in relief.

  Finally. Quiet.

  “You are sexy. It has been a while since I’ve been in the company of a woman and I want to be in your bed.”

  Carrie stiffened. The male voice was exceedingly close and a little too loud for comfort. She was almost afraid to look.

  A female laughed. “I’ll give you points for honesty.”

  Carrie sighed with relief that the bad come-on line wasn’t for her.

  “That’s an interesting accent you have,” the woman continued. “What’s your name?”

  “Spark.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sparky. They call me Honey. Where are you from?” the woman asked with a giggle.

  “Uh,” the man paused as if struggling for the answer. “Can-nan-ada.”

  Carrie arched a brow and looked into her half-empty coffee cup. The man hardly sounded Canadian. She leaned back into her chair as if that would help her eavesdrop on the conversation better. She covertly tried to glance at them, but only saw part of a woman’s bare shoulder and brunette hair. She recognized the stemmed cherry tattoo. Of course, the woman’s name was Honey. It was the same woman Carrie had seen drunk by the fountain the evening before.

  Honey had been singing badly to the pop song playing during the water show while perched atop a stone rail. She’d been trying to look cool as she beat her arms in the air like a set of drums were over her head. Carrie remembered fighting the urge to push the drunken mess into the water and was pretty sure the other onlookers would have applauded her if she had.

  “Really, which part?” Honey asked. The flirty smile was evident by the tone of her voice.

  “Can-nan-ada.”

  Carrie busied herself sweeping the glitter into a napkin with the side of her hand as she continued to listen.

  “Ok, then, Mr. Sparky Can-nan-ada,” Honey flirted. “What brings you to Vegas? Work or pleasure?”

  “I seek much pleasure. I like it when the women are on their hands and knees. I saw this on a viewing screen,” Spark admitted. “May I put this in your mouth? The carpets in my suite are soft if you’d like to crawl around first.”

  Carrie couldn’t help herself. She turned around in her seat. How could she not?

  A handsomely built man in a gray t-shirt and faded blue jeans held up a ball gag, as Honey slowly backed away from him with a stunned look on her face.

  “How many points does this honesty get me? Can we go to my bed now? There are not many women where I am from, and I’m lonely,” Spark insisted. Either he was a superior actor or the most innocent creature in the entire world. His expression was so earnest, so open, so hopeful. The hint of a black tattoo along the top of his shirt collar and the obvious attention he gave to his muscular physique made her doubt the innocent reason. Playboy was more likely.

  “Stay away from me, freak,” Honey ordered, backing into a chair before turning to run from the restaurant.

  Spark watched the woman, dumbfounded as if he couldn’t understand what had happened. Two equally tall and handsome men joined him. She’d bet money they were entertainers of some sort—dancers, actors, or perhaps aerial circus performers.

  “Only in Vegas,” Carrie whispered to herself.

  “I don’t understand why this is not working. I’ve asked nearly thirty women, and that one is the closest I’ve come to having enough points,” Spark stated.

  “Points?” the bearded entertainer inquired.

  “Yes, apparently they award points for honesty.” Spark frowned. “Do you think she knew I was lying when I said I was from Can-nan-ada?”

  “I don’t see how. Women here don’t have special mind reading powers,” the surly looking third man said. Something in his authoritative tone made Carrie uncomfortable.

  “I didn’t say she could read my mind, Sev,” Spark answered in irritation. “Just that they might be able to sense lies.”

  “I’m Blaze.” Sev, apparently also known as Blaze, corrected. “We’re supposed to use our local names. Or did you forget the contracts?”

  “No one from the company is listening,” Spark dismissed.

  “Wait, I thought I was Blaze,” the bearded one clarified.

  “Kal is Spark.” Sev pointed first at Spark and then at the bearded man. “Vin is Flame.” He touched his chest. “I’m Blaze. This isn’t hard to remember.”

  Spark, Flame, Blaze?

  Their names were Spark, Flame, and Blaze?r />
  Carrie quickly finished her coffee to empty her cup. She used it as an excuse get a good look at the trio while pretending to want a refill from the waitress.

  “I’m only messing with you,” Vin said. “You’re so cute when you’re lecturing me.”

  “I don’t even know what messing me means,” Sev dismissed. “I think you have defective uploads.”

  Fire dancers? That would make sense with those kinds of stage names. She wondered which hotel they were performing at. Maybe she could suggest a change in plans to Missy. That sounded like something her cousin might go for—especially when she described what the dancers looked like. Even though the restaurant was almost empty at this time of the morning, the three men definitely held the attention of those around them. Carrie realized she wasn’t the only one trying to sneak a peek.

  “The women in the tutorial seemed to like this thing. I don’t understand the appeal of blocking off the mouth during pleasure time, but they enjoyed it.” Kal tossed the ball gag down on a nearby table and ignored it. “I am trying to make them happy, but cannot figure out what they want me to say.”

  “Coffee?” the waitress asked.

  Carrie was holding her cup like an idiot, staring fully at the conversation. All three men turned toward her at the question. She inhaled sharply as Kal’s dark eyes met hers. They had a mesmerizing sheen to them, almost metallic. He gave her a half-smile, a completely unfair sexy expression. The tiny jolt of awareness in her stomach was surprising but not unwelcome. Why wouldn’t she be attracted to a good-looking man?