Craving: A SciFi Alien Mail Order Bride Romance (TerraMates Book 8) (19 page)

* * *

"
I
can't believe
they made you Commander," Lucina gushed as she followed me down towards the docking bay. "I mean, you're now the Queen Sister."

"It doesn't exactly come with privileges," I reminded her.

"No, but it does come with a hideous costume," Lucina said, laughing. "Gallia never had to wear that."

I looked down at the pale blue Roman-inspired gown I wore. It was soft and billowy, meant to represent a woman of the same demeanor. It wasn't hideous, it was quite exquisite, but I knew what Lucina meant.

I looked like a doll Earth had played dress up with. I guess in many ways, that's exactly what I was.

"Are you scared?" she asked, keeping pace beside me.

"Yes," I admitted. "And you?"

"Yeah," she answered, her smile weakening. "I'm trying to focus on the task, but this is too momentous. An alien race flew all the way across the stars to destroy us with God only knows what type of technology, and we're about to welcome an entire ship of these Depraved onto our station."

The Depraved. It was what Earth called the Surtu, usually in our folk stories. I hadn't heard the term spoken since leaving Earth, but I had often thought it.

Lucina continued. "When our mothers sent us here as teenagers, I never imagined it would actually be us–"

"Shhh," I warned her. "The envoy ship isn't far. If they're somehow listening in, they don't need to know everything we did as teenagers."

That's what I said out loud. What I meant was, "They can't know the three hundred women on the Fortuna are an army, not a sisterhood".

But Lucina understood.

Outside the docking bay, a small reception gathered. Those in attendance had been handpicked by Gallia, either for their grace, their charm, or their ability to kill a man before he knew he was dead.

"Priestess," I said in greeting to Bellona. Beneath her wild red hair and amber eyes, she showed no fear.

"Commander," she returned, eyeing my dress smugly. "You look nice."

"Then my ladies have done their job."

My ladies was code for Earth, and right now, several of my ladies were watching and listening through a satellite feed. The surveillance on board the Fortuna was discreet, but I felt as if I had the eyes of a million men and women on me.

"The envoy ship is approaching," Gallia told us, forcing all our attention on the transparent floor-to-ceiling divide that shielded us from the harsh conditions of space when the docking bay opened. "They land in five minutes."

I nodded, getting myself ready. "And what of the other sisters on board?"

"Safe in their rooms," Gallia answered. "Preparing."

So sharpening their weapons, practicing their combat...We didn't know when Earth would give the signal to attack, but it was likely a few days away, at best. Right now, the priority was to garner intelligence and learn everything possible about the Surtu. Then we'd strike, launching the first of many military initiatives set up by the leaders of Earth.

"You ready?" Bellona asked. "Remember, you're not Gallia. You're you. That's why you were chosen."

"I've got this," I assured her.

"Good, because here goes everything," she said. Her eyes looked like hot steel as the docking bay shook with the arrival of the envoy ship. From behind the divide, I watched as the massive hatch to the docking bay opened, allowing a medium-sized craft to land within. It was angular and of a glossy silver element unnatural to Earth.

I guessed it could carry around a hundred people, as long as the Surtu were not fat giants or larger than the ancient elephants, as some of the legends told.

No one knew for sure. The survivors who escaped the Surtu attack on the colony were rarely seen in public. They were too traumatized to relive the events.

As the hatch closed, my body began shaking. I could not control it. Lucina had said it well. This was momentous, but for terrible reasons.

"It's time," Gallia instructed, pushing me closer to the divide. "The hatch is shut."

"If anyone can do it, it's you," Lucina stated, always my cheerleader.

It was the boost of confidence I needed. Taking a deep breath, potentially my last as a free woman, I signaled to Gallia to drop the divide.

* * *

N
othing happened
.

The Surtu ship sat eerily quiet. It looked like a masterpiece next to the much smaller cargo ships parked nearby.

I stepped further out into the docking bay, my entourage behind me. Adrenaline pumped through my body and I was on edge. If this didn't go to plan, we wouldn't have time to wait for Earth's signal. The war would start now.

Suddenly, a white light filled the docking bay, taking away our sight. I held my hand against my head as if shielding myself from the sun.

Behind me, I heard Gallia move forward, but I reached out and blindly grabbed her arm. "Wait," I urged. "We don't know what this means. It could be harmless."

"It IS harmless," a deep, almost musical voice said from somewhere in the light.

And then the light was gone, and we could see again.

My hold on Gallia's arm tightened, but this time for my own benefit. I needed to steady myself.

The dozen or so men who stood before me were not alien in the way any of the stories from my childhood told me. They looked completely human. Their height and build were slightly larger than the average man, and their eyes were much rounder and almond-shaped, almost elfin, but other than that, I was shocked by how human they looked.

It was hard to associate their physical appearance with the idea of the Depraved in my mind. This was the alien race who planned to destroy Earth?

"Are you the Commander of this space station?" one of the Surtu asked, stepping forward from the troop. He sounded like the same man who had spoken earlier, only now there was nothing musical in his tone. It was completely rigid and formal.

Game time.

"I am," I said, letting go of Gallia's arm as I straightened myself, the shock wearing off. "And who are you?" I asked, meeting him straight on.

Now face to face, I was taken aback by how attractive he was. His hair was so black, it was almost blue, matching perfectly with his eyes, a shade before midnight with flecks of white light around the pupil.

So. Aliens are hot.

Who cares, I thought, forcing myself to focus on my mission. It doesn't change anything.

"I am Jidden, the Lead Officer of this ship, under the command of my Fleet Captain," he answered.

"And I am Terra Lynch. The women here are under my care, along with our Head Priestess," I said, indicating Bellona behind me.

Jidden barely acknowledged her. "But you are the one in charge?" he confirmed.

"Yes," I said.

"Then I have no time for anyone else. She is not important to me."

Behind me, I heard Lucina snort. Bellona liked to live in the shadows, but she didn't tolerate disrespect. Everyone on the Fortuna knew it. Bellona maintained a diplomatic posture, but I could feel her seething.

Someone just made it to the top of her hit list.

"You have come here to negotiate our surrender," I stated, trying to sound like an authority figure. "We have many terms to discuss, but you will not be met with resistance while you're here. We wish for nothing but peace and open our doors to you freely."

"Do you?" Jidden asked, raising a dark eyebrow in suspicion. "Because I have a hard time believing that."

And then, to my horror, he ordered his troop of men to surround us.

* * *

W
hen I was a teenager
, I was obsessed with Earth's past. What was the world like through the eyes of a girl my age? I read plenty of novels from eras long ago, and I was dismayed by how many predicted a dystopian future. Did people have so little faith in humanity back then?

The Earth was not a wasteland. As a child, I ran freely around the warm desert sands of a southern climate, usually carrying with me a long fighting stick so I could practice my combat skills against the Depraved, just like my mother had taught me.

Back then, in my childhood imagination, the Depraved were giant monsters, but I still kicked their ass.

Then, one day, I tripped over a stone while running. Though I fell in some sand, I still hurt my arm.

"Don't cry, my little Terra," my mother cooed, carrying me in her arms. "This is just a test to prove how strong you are."

"A test?" I asked in my innocence, momentarily ignoring the pain. "Who's testing me?"

"The Earth," she replied. "That's why it caused you to fall. It wants to know if you're strong enough to protect it."

"But my arm
hurts
,” I whimpered.

"Of course it does," my mother acknowledged lovingly, and she squeezed me tight. "And I'll take you home so we can mend it. But the test isn't whether you are in pain. It's whether you'll get back up and fight."

At the time, I just thought my mom was being weird... and a little mean. But after coming to the Fortuna, I realized she had been preparing me for whatever my destiny held.

And as it turned out, she was right.

* * *

I
t's a test
, I thought as Jidden and his troops surrounded us. If he really doubted our motives, if he knew we were warriors, the fleet would have fired on us. They wouldn't have sent an envoy at all.

Trusting my instincts, I raised my hands in surrender. "We cannot fight back," I claimed. "It goes against our moral code. We are peaceful women. Even if we wanted to, there are no weapons on board this ship to fight with."

Unless you counted the stashes of daggers, spears, fighting sticks, and whatever else each woman had hidden away.

"Yes," Jidden said, eyeing me carefully. "Our scanners showed only trivial weaponry. Nothing sophisticated. But why? Even a sisterhood is entitled to protection."

"There's nothing we need protection from," I answered, praying the other girls didn't make a move. "We're alone on this station. When we need supplies from Earth, we fly down on cargo ships and collect the supplies ourselves. Regardless, our sisterhood is universally recognized. We don't need protection from anyone because we are protected by everyone. Unless, of course, you mean to hurt us."

"No," Jidden said, and his men stood down. "Our Fleet Captain will not allow it."

I dropped my arms, but I did not fully relax. Jidden's words sounded compassionate, but they were spoken with great indifference. Clearly, his concern was the orders of his Fleet Captain, not the welfare of the women who called the Fortuna home.

What a jerk.

A stupid, gorgeous jerk.

On Earth, they must have been scrambling around trying to process the information they were receiving. Now they knew what type of guns the Surtu carried, their hierarchy of command, and that they were modest, dressed in uniforms of black and dark purple – the colors of a panther.

Again, it was all so humanoid. The line between our two species was very thinly drawn.

Acting submissive seemed to work, so I continued the charade, hoping to earn his trust. "How do we proceed from here?" I asked, dropping all sense of authority from my demeanor.