by Lisa Lace
“Isn’t that a bit outdated?” Zandra asked archly, popping another bit of dried meat in her mouth.
Maxine shook her head. “No. On Erusha, peace is a recent concept, having been achieved only a few years ago. The more Alpha warriors a tribe has, the stronger and better protected the tribe is.” Maxine looked at her smugly.
Zandra looked around the circle as she sat down between Maddie and Clara. The women were making clothes for themselves. In the ship’s wreck, anything brought from Earth had been destroyed. Maxine had warned them it would be at least six months before another ship could reach Erusha. Bolts of the soft, silken fabric of the Erushans had been left on their doorstep—presents from the Alpha males who wanted wives. Jurgen had brought her fabric earlier in the week, silently presenting it to her. It was emerald green, a color that would bring out her eyes. The gesture had automatically put her on guard. He knew their deal—why was he courting her? Still, she couldn’t possibly refuse it.
To Zandra’s dismay, the women had spent the entirety of the past week sewing. In the absence of children to take care of, it was all they had to do on the planet, evidently. Betas seemed to have everything else under control. Zandra sighed and sat down. She pulled the dress she had been working on out of her bag. Zandra stewed as she inexpertly pieced the garment together. This was not the life she had envisioned for herself. Not at all. She missed online shopping and malls. With a click, she could have something like this arrive at her apartment door in a neat package.
“When you are married to the Alphas, you can have the Beta males make your clothes for you,” Maxine stated with a smirk.
Marlene sighed in frustration. She was still weak after the crash and her resulting injuries. The large bruise at her temple had darkened to a deep purple with a yellow tinge, like a storm cloud. “I thought we were to marry royalty,” she grumbled, looking up from her work to fix Maxine with a pointed look.
“Alphas are considered the highest echelon of Erushan society,” Maxine informed her. “They have promised that none of the Betas will be vying for your attentions. It was in a signed agreement.”
Like that solves everything, Zandra thought.
“It seems that the chief is the best you can do here. There’s only one. And he seems rather standoffish,” Maddie said.
Zandra glanced up from her sewing at the mention of Jurgen. Maddie looked back at her unsmiling. Jurgen had clearly stated his intentions toward Zandra. The rest of the males mostly left her alone. Aphelion was the only one who gave her wistful looks at times. Due to the small number of crash survivors, there was a sense of desperation in the males’ attentions to the women.
“Agreed, girl,” Zandra said in a monotone. She was giving nothing away. She still planned on returning to Earth.
“I bet you’re relieved,” Maddie went on, pressing, “to have already been claimed.”
Zandra shrugged. “Don’t I have to claim him in return in order to make that binding?” Zandra asked, cutting her eyes toward Maxine.
“Yes,” Maxine replied. “After the male battles for your affections, you must claim him in order to complete the marriage.”
Five Alpha males walked up. They were, as with most of the Alphas, big, young, and muscular. As warriors, Alphas did not have a particularly long life expectancy. These Alphas’ features were more open than Jurgen’s—less severe. They didn’t have as many scars as most of the Alphas. Zandra supposed them to be some of the new recruits she had heard mentioned.
“We have come to see if any of you wanted to accompany us for a walk around the settlement,” one of the males said. They wore the tight pants of the Erushan males and nothing else, leaving their impressive washboard abs on display.
“And you are?” Maxine asked.
The young Alpha smiled. “They call me Havi.” Pointing to the others in turn, he said, “This is Grendel, Maht, Zavier, and Gret.”
“I’m coming,” Maddie said, folding her work and stuffing it in her satchel.
There was a flurry of agreement as Lily, Brice, and Ashton got up.
“I’m going to go and take a nap,” Marlene mumbled. She had been suffering from headaches since coming out of stasis.
“I think I’ll take a nap, too,” Clara said softly, getting to her feet. Zandra had noticed she tended to gravitate toward Auslur whenever he was around.
Carly stood as well. “I think I’ll take a walk on my own,” she said quietly.
The group dispersed, leaving Zandra and Maxine alone.
“I’ll see you ladies later!” Maxine called out cheerily, waving to them. She placed two fingers over her lips as she watched them walk off.
Zandra’s hatred for the matchmaker burned like acid in her gut.
Maxine sighed happily, then turned to Zandra. “How are things going with the chief?” She asked the question casually, as though they were confidantes.
Zandra knew where this conversation was headed. “Nowhere,” she stated bluntly, keeping her gaze on the dress she was attempting to make.
“You know, you were always intended for the chief.”
Zandra said nothing.
The matchmaker tried again. “He seems to like you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have made his claim so publicly.”
“I won’t be marrying any aliens. Chiefs or otherwise.”
“Oh?”
Zandra could feel the weight of Maxine’s impertinent gaze, boring holes into her skull. “Kidnapping is a crime, you know.” She kept her tone both conversational and insinuating at the same time.
“You’re not the first woman to be angry with me,” Maxine said.
Zandra looked up in time to catch her shrug.
“At first. But not a single one of those women didn’t thank me later, after they met their perfect mate. Someday, you will, too.”
“Doubtful,” Zandra mumbled gruffly. She paused as she tried to govern her anger. “I don’t belong here. I need to go home. I never wanted anything like this. I’m a career woman not some broodmare who is barefoot and pregnant all the time.”
Maxine gave her a look, the curve of her smile flattening as she realized what Zandra was trying to get across. “The ship will never take you,” she said flatly.
“What?” Zandra had expected this. But she had hoped that, through reasoning and bargaining, she could win Maxine over.
“As far as the company is concerned, you are a product. To return you to Earth would be to lose the profit they made off of your sale,” Maxine explained primly.
Zandra felt sick.
“I’m an employee, and they are required to take me home. It’s in my contract. But there is nothing you can say or do that would induce them to return you. Think of the life that the company and I have given you—this settlement is comfortable. You will want for nothing. The chief has his eye on you. You must see that. You will be the closest thing to a queen Erusha has.”
Zandra was silent for a moment as she glared at Maxine in anger. “I will not,” she said finally, her voice low.
Maxine shrugged and then stood. “As you will, Miss Zane. But Erusha is a combative place. There may be peace now, but that is hardly a permanent state. The people of this planet are incapable of maintaining it. Without an Alpha male to protect you, you will not survive. The chief is your best bet. If you refuse him, you will be free for any male who desires you.” She walked away, leaving Zandra alone in silence.
Zandra couldn’t decide which to do—scream, cry, or kill Maxine. Once she calmed down, she considered her situation. She needed to survive until a ship came—any ship—and then she would do whatever it took to return to Earth. Until then, she would play this game. She would survive.
She stood up abruptly, stuffing her work into her bag as she walked. She’d decided her best bet was to start with Grav. He was in charge of technology. He could contact Earth. She made her way to the communal building at the center of the settlement, ignoring the curious glances of the Beta males she passed, keeping her eyes in fro
nt of her.
The communal building was massive. It made her think of the mead hall, Heorot, from Beowulf. It was used for gatherings, and it also contained the mess hall, the medical pavilion, and the Alpha’s war room. In addition, it also housed the food supplies as well as the armory.
When she entered, the hallways were dark. As she passed through, the motion-activated lights switched on, suffusing the space with a warm glow. Through the door to the war room, she saw the light-blue glow that heralded computers. She walked in, finding herself in the room with the large, roughly hewn stone table. She placed her palm on its surface, feeling the cool stone beneath her hand. There were carvings in the stone—names, initials, strange symbols—reminiscent of the tattoos the Alphas bore.
She looked up when she heard a sound. It was a voice—tinny, far away. Along the wall there was a large bank of monitors, all of them lit up with activity. She looked at each in turn. Some showed radar scans, recording the movement for miles around the settlement. Others showed newscasts from other planets, the faces on screen ranging from human to aliens she couldn’t even put a name to. Another appeared to be a soap opera from a planet of golden-skinned people with horns sprouting from their temples.
She turned her attention to the large computer in the corner. Beside it, a tall, thin male with whipcord muscles stood watching her. Unlike the other Erushans, with their golden eyes, his were an icy blue. It was striking. He wore his gray hair cropped short, and his face was clean-shaven. Despite the harshness of his features, he looked kind.
“You must be Zandra,” he said.
“Grav?” she asked, more to confirm. She was pretty confident that was who he was.
He nodded and motioned for her to come over to his computer. “Jurgen told me to expect you. Come on over. I will show you what I have been able to do.”
He sat down in a chair. It was ergonomically designed—a swivel desk chair, just like the one in her office in Boston. She felt comforted by the presence of familiar technology. He brought up a window on the screen—emails. Again, a sense of normalcy washed over her.
“I have sent messages to authorities on Earth,” he explained. “I have described the situation, although there is something odd going on.”
“What do you mean?” Zandra frowned. This couldn’t be good. Her eyes scanned the message from the Boston Police Department. It merely read:
Please see the attached documents. Miss Zane appears to have signed a contract with TerraMates. Please speak with her to confirm. Unless we have solid proof of a crime, we cannot move forward. Having cold feet is a common occurrence prior to weddings.
Regards,
Lt. Myra Daniels, BPD
“TerraMates has covered their tracks,” Grav explained, clicking on the email’s attachments, bringing up images of documents.
Zandra frowned as she beheld her own signature, emblazoned across the dotted line.
“They have documents claiming that you agreed to come here.”
“So…” Zandra didn’t want to say it. She felt sick.
“Earth is not sending anyone for you,” he explained gently. “They say that matchmaking agencies often have participants who get…cold feet.”
Zandra sighed heavily. “So, this has happened before.”
Grav nodded. On the screen, he brought up several news items. “I’ve found some other instances,” he told her.
They were skimming the articles when Jurgen entered the room. Zandra glanced up at him. She had a feeling he had heard the entire conversation.
“My offer still stands,” he said, confirming her suspicion. He held a large hand out to Zandra. “I promised to protect you. In order to do so, I claimed you so that another wouldn’t.”
“Thank you,” she said. “But you don’t have to do this. Especially if you need to marry.”
“He does,” Grav mumbled, his eyes still on the computer screen.
Jurgen shot his tech manager a look. Then he sighed and gestured for Zandra to follow him.
She waved to Grav as she stood. “Thanks for your help.”
“It was nothing,” he replied. “I will keep my eyes and ears open for any ships passing by. Maybe you can catch a ride with one.”
She nodded then followed Jurgen out of the building. They walked in silence through the settlement, which was alive with activity. Everyone, it seemed, had a function in the community. The Beta males did the menial labor—they did the cooking, cleaning, repair work, building, and the farming. The Alphas protected the community and did the hunting. Jurgen led her to the perimeter wall, where they climbed a set of stone steps that had been carved into it.
Zandra looked out over the fields at the grazing herds. She felt the cool wind on her face. She crossed her arms, waiting for Jurgen to speak. He took his time.
“I didn’t want to bring any of you here,” he began.
Zandra squinted. “I thought—”
“When the Saavi massacred our women, they killed the woman that I loved.”
“Oh,” Zandra said, the truth taking her by surprise.
“She died in my arms. It just about broke me,” he went on, looking out over the wall. “I felt that to bring human women here, to marry another, would be to betray her memory. I do not believe I could love another.” He paused.
“But…” Zandra urged gently.
“But as chief, I must produce an heir, or I must step down.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Claim me in return,” Jurgen said. “Give me a son, and I will hire a ship to return you to Earth.”
Zandra was silent for a moment as she processed this. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to become enraged. But part of her saw this as a means to an end. Survival. She had begun to recognize when her reasoning shut down and her survival instinct took over. She looked at Jurgen. His face was unreadable as he waited for her response. Slowly, she nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “But there has to be a time limit on this. You have one year to find me a way back to Earth, and I will give you what you want.”
“Agreed,” he said.
Zandra held out her hand. Jurgen took it, shaking it, then Zandra turned away from him.
“Now leave me,” she said, her voice not unkind.
Silently, he left her side. She looked back out over the plains as the wind stirred her loose hair.
Jurgen
The Beta males had worked hard setting up the battlegrounds outside the settlement wall. Jurgen was dressed in his armor, and he carried his sheathed scimitar in his hand as he walked. Before an Alpha male could marry his chosen woman, he needed to prove himself in battle as she watched. After he was victorious, he could claim her before the entire tribe. In return, she needed to claim him. After that, they were considered married in the eyes of Erushan society.
He buried his hand in his pocket, searching for the ring he would offer his chosen. It had belonged to his mother, lost to death while he was a youngling. It was plain gold, set with a deep-blue gem, about the size of one of Zandra’s tiny fingernails. His mother had had slim fingers for an Erushan. He thought it would fit Zandra. The metal was warm.
He sighed heavily, scanning the crowd gathered in the stands. When they had stood on the wall a few days previously, Jurgen had lied to Zandra. He had said he could never love again, but from the moment he saw her, a part of him had awakened. A piece that he had long believed to be broken. He hoped that in time she would come to feel the same way, and that when the time came, she would choose to stay instead of returning to Earth.
When he spotted her, the whole world seemed to slow. She wore a bright-green dress, which brought out the emerald hue of her eyes. Her hair was in a braided crown around her head. Her skin looked like fresh cream. She turned, catching him staring at her. The corners of her pale pink lips curved upward in a smile. She raised a hand in greeting. He nodded before moving to where the other Alphas were warming up.
The Beta male rang the bell over the gate, signal
ing the start of the melee. There was a loud roar as the contestants faced off, a tremendous clanging of metal as weapons clashed. Jurgen looked around. It was rare for a chief’s claim to be challenged. He was surprised when he saw Aphelion running towards him, a grim smile on his face. A challenge. For Zandra.
Jurgen ran at Aphelion, full tilt. The younger male raised his massive two-handed broadsword at the last moment. Jurgen knew that the young Alpha had been eying Zandra, but he hadn’t expected him to risk insubordination. He pressed his whole weight into his scimitar, leaning into Aphelion’s face. The younger male growled, baring his pointed teeth. Traces of his grin were still on his face—he felt confident challenging a chief, a demeanor that could later prove problematic. Jurgen was going to have to put an end to it. He roared, his nose mere inches from Aphelion’s. The younger male flinched as the sound echoed.
Jurgen used the moment of weakness to his advantage, sliding his blade along Aphelion’s broadsword. There was a hiss as metal ran against metal. Jurgen swung his scimitar in low. Aphelion managed to jump back at the last moment, but he didn’t make it far. Jurgen’s curved blade slammed into his armor, right above his heart, leaving a deep gouge in the metal. Aphelion grunted, swinging his heavy blade at Jurgen, who stepped back easily. As he moved, he brought his blade up to meet Aphelion’s, blocking it with a crash.
The two warriors stepped apart. They moved together in a delicate, dangerous dance. No one had ever bested Jurgen Apaknor in battle, for good reason. Aphelion went on the offensive, throwing his whole weight behind his next swing of the broadsword. Jurgen ducked out of the way, bringing his lighter blade in low. It was a gamble, but one that paid off. Aphelion was off-balance. The blade hit his armor in the same place it had the first time, deepening the dent. Jurgen stepped back, his eyes meeting Aphelion’s. One more blow, and the fight was his.
