by Cara Bristol
“It looks freezing out there.”
“I can’t believe we’re here.”
“What if no one picks me?”
Garnet waved at me from a group. Because I’d warned her in advance, she’d donned a parka over her govvie. I accessed the computer terminal to check our progress. We’d touch down in a few minutes. According to the scan which had read the ID chips in the language translator implants, a few women hadn’t arrived. Four cats were late.
I messaged the latecomers to get their butts to the lounge—in a nicer way, of course, then logged out of the system, and stepped over to a small riser. Like me, the women were statuesque; the seven-foot-plus Dakonians had requested tall females. After the four stragglers strolled in, I clapped my hands. “Okay, ladies! Can I have your attention, please?”
A few heads pivoted in my direction.
I stuck two fingers into my mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Conversation stopped.
“Can everybody hear me?” I asked in Dakonian.
Only a few hands went up, one of them Garnet’s.
“I need everybody to raise your hand if you understand what I’m saying.”
Were the translators not working, or were they ignoring me? Anger sparked, but I tamped it down. Their behavior was partly—okay, mostly—my fault. My arrogant prick disguise had worked like a charm. The women froze me out like I was a jerk who’d accosted them in a bar.
It made for a lonely voyage. This time I’d had Garnet, but usually I had no one to talk to. The passengers didn’t like me, and as an exchange-program employee, I technically wasn’t a crew member, so I didn’t belong to that circle, either.
Crew members were few anyway, as the computer piloted the ship, and robots did much of the other work. The bridge crew existed mainly for the unlikely scenario something went really, really wrong and a human override was required.
I touched my neck behind my ear where my new translator had been embedded. The original, received when I’d been hired, had to be replaced because it had begun emitting an irritating screech. I’d gotten a new one yesterday when the women had received theirs.
“I am speaking Dakonian,” I said. “If you don’t understand me, then your translator isn’t working. If you expect to communicate with the alien man who chooses you, we must verify your translator is operational. So, if you understand me, raise your hand.”
Every arm in the room shot up. They’d heard me; they’d been ignoring me.
“Okay, good.” I hoped they froze their butts off.
“In a few moments, I’ll have everyone proceed to the disembarkation corridor and line up. When we exit, we’ll march single file to the big stone lodge. Garnet”—I motioned to my friend—“will lead the way. It’s easier walking if you step in the footprints of the person in front of you. The robos will deliver your luggage to the rear of the lodge.
“Let’s test your ability to speak the language. On the count of three, everyone say, ‘obah.’”
The ship’s thrusters kicked up the powder, splattering the viewing window, obscuring the Dakonian landscape. What you saw was what you got. Snow on the window, snow on Dakon.
“One.” I held up a finger. “Two.” A second finger. The ship touched down with a bump and rocked from side to side. “Three.”
“Obah!” the women shouted.
“Obah! We’ve landed,” I said.
Everyone started talking at once.
“Ladies, I need you to proceed to the disembarkation passage!”
A few women zipped up their govvies and exited. The others clustered around the window, trying to peer through the clear spots. “The sooner you all exit, the sooner you can meet your aliens,” I yelled.
A few more left.
Like herding cats.
I stomped to the computer console, jabbed a code into the screen, and brought the window shutters down.
“Hey!”
“What the fuck?”
“You can all see the planet from outside. I need you to proceed to the disembarkation corridor. This way.” I strode out of the lounge, Garnet at my side. It would serve them right if they got left behind, and the ship took them back to Earth. Grumbles and snide comments behind me indicated most of them were following.
Garnet and I marched past the twenty women who had obeyed directions and lined up. As we waited for the bridge crew to open the hatch and lower the gangway, I tugged on my hat, donned and zipped my parka, tightening the hood for extra insulation. I slipped on my thick gloves.
“I hope you get everything you came for, and you and your alien fall madly in love. I’ll stick around until you get chosen so I can say goodbye,” I said to Garnet. If I came back to Dakon, it would be seven months before I saw her again—I had a three-month return journey to Earth then a mandatory month break before chaperoning the next group.
During the hiatus, I intended to submit a few employment applications elsewhere. The money had spoiled me, but I didn’t like the job, so as soon as I could find another one, I’d move on.
The wide door peeled open, and a flash-freezing cold blasted into the passage.
Shocked cries rang out.
“Good galaxy!”
“Jesus Christ!”
My face hidden by my hood, I grinned. The corridor was now colder than an icebox.
“Are you kidding me?” Garnet mumbled, wrapping her scarf higher around her face.
“This is a balmy day,” I said.
“You’re joking.”
“Wish I were.” I whistled and motioned. “All right, ladies, it’s time to meet your aliens! Let’s go. Everybody follow Garnet and head for the large stone dome across the field.”
Garnet stepped out onto the gangway, and I heard her swear as the wind blasted her. One by one, I shepherded the women off the ship, counting as they exited. I didn’t love my job, but I took my responsibility seriously. While the computer would scan and record who exited, it wouldn’t send stragglers an alert that said, “Get off the ship, dummy.” That was my job.
These women were nuts to prefer becoming an alien’s mail-order bride rather than taking their chances on Earth, but maybe I shouldn’t judge. My best friend in the entire galaxy had chosen it.
Though they cursed the cold, they still bubbled with excitement. The women had journeyed three long months and pinned all their hopes and dreams on this moment. Even though they treated me rudely, I hoped this worked out for them. And I wanted the absolute best for my bestie.
After the last one exited, I stepped out of the ship into a frozen hell. The gangway retracted, and the hatch closed behind me. Head down, I tromped through freezing wind and thigh-high snow to the lodge.
Chapter Two
Enoki
She’s coming…she’s coming…
Whispers in the wind mocked me all the way to the Meeting Place. So sure I’d be getting a female, I’d felt her presence in my marrow as if she’d already arrived, her life force stirring my blood, her elusive name a dance on the tip of my tongue. In my mind’s eye, long hair the color of nut with streaks of berry swirled around her face, hiding all but flashes of a tantalizing smile.
She’s coming…she’s coming…
I couldn’t allow disappointment and jealousy to prevent me from fulfilling my duty to the other men. Besides, I wasn’t alone in my misery. For every man who’d entered the lottery for a female and won, dozens more had hopes dashed.
I squinted through spiraling snow stirred by an icy wind at the massive, gleaming Terran ship in the field. Robos loaded carts of illuvian ore into an open cargo bay, but the passenger gangway hadn’t lowered yet. Always the ore came first with the Terrans. Every ship landing on Dakon left with rock, including the ones bringing the females we desperately needed.
She’s here. She’s here. The voice imprinted on me so strongly, I glanced beside me, half expecting to see the Fates had manifested into solid form.
Eight men in my tribe
had drawn chits for an Earth female. I hadn’t been one of them. So why did the wind whisper my female was coming? Why taunt me so? The Fates were not always kind, but I’d never known them to be cruel.
I pushed through the kel flap over the door and entered the lodge. Lottery winners congregated in their tribal groups around a crackling fire in the room’s center. Smoke funneled out through a hole in the ceiling. The room buzzed with conversation and elation.
I nodded and greeted the lucky winners as I headed toward a group of my own tribesmen. “Congratulations, men!” I forced cheer into my voice. “It won’t be long now.”
“The ship has landed?” asked Tovio. “When I arrived, it was still in the sky.”
“Yes, its robos are loading the ore,” I replied.
Kellian, another tribe member, sighed. “It’s so hard to wait. Why can’t they let the females disembark then load the ore?” he groused.
“They ensure they get what they came for,” I said. “We need females; they want illuvian ore.”
The asteroid that hit Dakon a couple hundred years ago decimated our civilization. It had killed millions, destroyed our cities and industry, and caused the current ice age. Worse, the asteroid brought a virus that mutated our genetics, resulting in declining female births. Dakonians had been on the verge of extinction when Terran scientists had arrived, discovered our planet was rich in illuvian ore, and offered to send us females in exchange for rock.
Of course, we’d jumped at the offer. We’d thought they were crazy at first, until we learned the energy in the mineral could power everything: vehicles, lights, labor-saving appliances. The spaceships now were fueled by illuvian ore. We’d been the beneficiary of some of their advancements and had received snow skimmers, lamps, and heaters, all of which improved our living conditions. However, what we really needed were Earth’s females. We’d been allocated one hundred every seven months.
Too few for every man to receive one, so we held a lottery. The fifteen tribes of Dakon received a quota proportionate to population and then drew chits to determine which men would get a female.
“Other ships come for the ore,” Tovio pointed out. “Mining ships, supply ships…”
I sympathized with his impatience. If I had expected a female, I’d be anxious, too.
She’s here! She’s here!
I glanced around to see if anyone heard, but no one reacted.
Had I somehow offended the Fates for them to torment me so?
Any mate was considered a blessing. Even the fickle and faithless Icha who’d severed bonds as easily as one would snap a stick was welcomed with open arms by the desperate men of Dakon. When a man acquired a female, he strove to please her and ensure the union worked. He held her in the highest esteem; however, only a rare few met Fated mates.
Sometimes the Fates intervened and chose a partner for us.
She’s here. SHE’S HERE!
Icy wind swept into the lodge as the flap over the door was flung aside and a female stumbled in, followed by another, and another.
“Obah!” The men cheered. “Obah! Obah!”
The dark-haired females blinked and widened their eyes. I smothered a grin of amusement. The females always appeared stunned when they caught their first glimpse of us. I’m sure we’d stared at the Terrans in a similar way when the scientists had landed. The Earthlings’ lack of horns, their short stature, their pale skin had seemed so alien.
Back then, we hadn’t realized the diversity of the Terran species. While many Earthers were light-skinned, others were as dark as us, with all shades in between. And their hair and eyes? It appeared nature had no plan at all. However, all of them lacked horns, and most were very short. Their tallest females barely reached our shoulders. We always requested the tallest ones.
At first, their alienness had given us pause, and men hesitated to enter the first lottery. But, after adapting to their unusual appearance, and seeing the happiness the Earth females brought their brethren, entrants to the lottery had ballooned. Way more men entered than won a female.
The fire pit separated males from females, but from across the divide, I could hear their exclamations.
“Helloooo, tall, dark, and handsome…”
“Ooh, they’re adorable.”
“Look at those horns. I want to grab on and ride him like cowgirl.”
My fellow Dakonians were just as vocal, commenting on the females’ hair and eyes, and short, cuddly stature. The men jostled each other, making deals, identifying their favored one so when it came their turn to choose, they would have a good chance of getting their first choice. A pang of loss and jealousy shot through me, and I wished I could join in the camaraderie and friendly competition.
Finally, when all the females were inside, Madison Altman entered. I smiled a welcome, realizing I’d been watching for him, hoping he’d be here. He never stayed long, returning to his ship as soon as he’d verified all the females had gotten in safely, but I enjoyed his brief visits. A small man, not any bigger than the females he accompanied, he moved with an exaggerated strut I suspected compensated for a lack of confidence. For some reason, he aroused a feeling of protectiveness in me, much like a younger brother would.
He shouldered through the chattering, giggling females to greet me. “It never gets any warmer!” he said in his boyish voice. He shoved off his hood to reveal very short nut-colored hair. Dakonians, male and female, grew our hair long for the warmth it provided, but I guess that wasn’t an issue for Earth men.
Madison scrubbed at ice-coated lashes fringing his eyes.
“It does during the Thaw.” I grinned. “Stick around, you’ll see.”
“No, thanks.”
“Did you have a pleasant journey?” I asked.
He glanced at the females and shrugged. “Good enough.”
I’d gotten the impression he was unmated, and I wondered why he chose to shepherd females from his planet to ours rather than choosing one and settling down. Then again, on Terra a man could have his choice of females, so perhaps no urgency existed.
His degree of responsibility with the Terra-Dakon Goodwill Exchange Program suggested he might be twenty-four or twenty-five, but his smooth cheeks and high voice caused me to speculate he might be younger.
He had time to find a mate. I was thirty-seven, and time was running out.
Men grumbled, their impatience shared by the females who scowled at Madison. Their disrespect roused my anger, but Madison seemed unbothered, more amused, if anything. His lips twitched. “The natives are getting restless,” he said. “Maybe you should start the ceremony before there’s a riot. All the women are inside.”
“Are you leaving now?” I asked.
“Soon. I have a friend in this group. I’m going to stick around to see who she gets.”
“You should stand apart from your friend,” I advised. “A Dakonian will be reluctant to approach her if she’s in the company of another male.”
Madison frowned. “Really? Why?”
“Platonic male-female friendships are rare on Dakon. We have so few females, our interactions with them tend to be focused on mating.” If Madison had been Dakonian, he would not have stood by to observe who picked his friend—he would be trying to convince her to be his mate.
“Okay. If you’ll let me make an announcement before you start the selection?” Madison peered up at me. This had been the longest conversation we’d ever had. I’d enjoyed speaking to him, and oddly, I felt less aggrieved about my own lonely state. Madison was not a Dakonian, but we played similar roles for our respective planets, so we had that in common.
“Of course.” I raised my arms to quiet the crowd. “Could I have everyone’s attention, please?”
Conversations fell away, and I nodded at Madison.
“Okay, ladies. This is where we part company,” he said. “The robos have stacked your trunks at the back of the hall.” He pointed to the mountain of bags towering over the tall
est men at the rear of the lodge. “Remember to collect them. Good luck, and may you all get your happily ever after.”
He scooted through the crowd to take a place against the wall. He flashed his fist with the thumb sticking up at a female—his friend, I presumed, and then crossed his arms.
I stepped onto a tree stump so everyone could better see and hear me. “Welcome, females!” I said. “I’m Enoki, the head of the council of the fifteen tribes of Dakon. We are very happy to meet you.”
“Obah! Obah!” the females shouted in their accented Dakonian.
“Let me explain how the process works. The men have drawn numbered chits to determine the order of selection. A man will approach you and ask you to be his mate. If you accept, you are mated, and you’ll need to write your names and dates in the book of records later. If he doesn’t appeal to you, you may turn him down, and he will ask someone else.”
“Any questions?”
Heads shook.
“Then let’s begin. Number one!”
A Dakonian with a broken horn from Palonio’s tribe bounded forward and approached a female with ringlets of hair in a rich shade of mud. As we only saw mud during the too-brief growing season we called the Thaw, mud represented renewal and fertility, life itself. A female with mud coloring would be viewed auspiciously.
Number one had made a good choice. If she accepted him.
“My name is Icktor,” he said. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my mate?”
Collectively, the men inhaled and held their breath. They all longed for and feared this moment. It would be humiliating to be rejected then awkward to approach another female who might feel she was second choice. We’d had problems with past choosings—from Palonio’s tribe, I recalled.
“Yes, Icktor, I will. And my name is Marie.”
“Obah!” The men cheered for him.
Icktor held out his hand, Marie took it, and he led her to collect her belongings. Before the Terrans’ arrival, Dakonians didn’t hold hands. However, Terran females liked it—along with meshing mouths—so we tried to please them.
Would I ever get a chance to hold hands with a female? To mouth-mesh? They called it kissing.
