I would miss your teasing, Aura. Talk to your friends. Your father’s matches are not advised. They do not have compatible Storms. Go to the Alien Bride Race like you’ve planned. Find a mate you want. Give your people what they need.
And what’s that?
Hope.
2: Jovie
The lunchtime horn goes off, and I sulk out of the port to the parking lot where my hoverclunker sits, the one I bought so I had somewhere dry and secure to sleep at night. I hope whatever alien picks me that he has a warm, comfortable bed, someplace filled with lights. I don’t care if it’s an old castle, a high-tech city skyscraper condo, or a starship. I just want to feel safe for once in my life.
I would like a view of the stars.
The Alien Bride Race ads that play on the holovids in the breakroom and the minimart down the street claim the alien males they accept for the race are protective. If they are, I’ll be happier wherever I end up than I’ve ever been on Earth.
I’m exhausted from pulling double shifts and sink heavily into my seat for my break, looking up at the big gray military cruiser that’s due for its maiden voyage in two months.I wonder if I’ll ever see her out in space or any of the other Terran force ships I’ve worked on.
I’ve never been out of Earth’s orbit.
I draw my datapad from my satchel to look through the ABR catalog again. Staring at the muscled aliens helps me forget the stale-sweet milky taste of my meal replacement bars. It’s all I can afford unless I get lucky and find something in a dumpster I can scrap for a few credits.
Swiping through the pages of different species and what they can offer as mates gives me hope someone will want me.Me. Not my stuff, my piddly credits, or my augments. Not someone who will just use me as a servant or a stepping stone to get themselvesto a better life. I’m tired of other people taking credit for my work and friends andsistersbetraying me.
I just want to be comfortable, safe, and needed. Anything else is a bonus. The Alien Bride Race packet says I will get those things “and more.” They’ve modified a few elements since the last race after Ruby, the original founder, passed. In the span of a month, they’ve added a pool and are adding more to accommodate all species’ aquatic needs.
I hope they have ABR swimsuits.I don’t own one. There’s no point when I’m covered in gear grease and electrode gel all day, every day.
Don’t have time to relax, anyway.
Beneath each species is a new block of information on mating practices. The species are wildly different. Nytheralians have mating scales on their cocks that lock them in during release. Ginarigons often subdue multiple mates with drugging teeth. And Mindorans claim their mates in a primal ritual in front of the pack.
A handful of species have no information provided. Nytheralians sound interesting. Ginarigons sound like trouble. Mindor…I might like that.
Their possessiveness is intriguing. I want to feel so needed by someone that they want the world to know I belong to them. I’m not looking for obsession, just dedication. It seems like an endangered concept on Earth.
The images of the lush race arena, blooming garden, and sparkling dining rooms make me want to cry. I’ve saved everything I could, worked my ass off, and I’m finally going to get to have something to show for it that my older sister can’t steal.
There are hundreds of male options, from bossy brown Talhuskins to amiable, color-shifting Vinym. But only some of the species are racing in my heat. Nevertheless, I’m intrigued bythe sheer number of species in the Sol Federation. I have only ever met a handful of them in the port, and I’ve never been todeepspace.
I like the size of the blue Thorians from Alpha Prime, the intriguing glow of Isonians, and the knobby exterior of the pale-amber Derorsin. Beneath the species’ info, in the Mating Practices section, is a schematic of their typical member with special nubs to pleasure female genitalia.
I chew a thumbnail, ignoring the taste of the grease.You know they’ve got to give a good ride.
But there’s a tingle that stirs in me when I linger over the purple species known as Amphir. It’s new to the races this heat. No information is listed under Mating Practices. In fact, there’s hardly anything provided except that they were the first species that made it into space.
I’m certain I’m not the only one who’s going to be watching for him. I just think we might have something in common: an affinity for starships.
But I’m just a grunt compared to whatever boss skills he has to have.
I’d like to at least pick his brain on a few modifications if I can snag him for a moment. But I get zapped enough at my day job that I don’t need it at home, too.
A knuckle raps on my window, startling me.
I immediately lock my datapad and hide it in my bag.
My ex, Elwin, scowls down at me with shrewd dark eyes. He’s in his blue assemblyman jumpsuit with slicked-back brown hair. I’m certain his job has convinced him he’s so slippery that he can get away with anything.
He speaks through the glass. “Verity says you have her datapad. She needs it for work.”
I give him a fake smile, then flip him off. “I haven’t been at the house in three months. She’s lost it. This one’s mine.”
