The Complete Alien's Bride

by Yamila Abraham

  Matoranis and number two laughed.

  “Castration shall further more be outlawed. Agreed?” number one said.

  Elentinus pressed his button at once. Matoranis, number four and number two followed. Number one pressed his button then stood and walked away. Number six did the same.

  “I won’t be manipulated by you again, Elentinus,” Nayjoor said.

  Lisette stood on tip-toe to whisper into Prax-Denay’s ear. “It’s going to pass six to one, right?”

  “All votes must be unanimous,” Prax-Denay whispered back.

  “Doesn’t Rolf-Tem have a little brother who wants to leave the slums?” Elentinus said. “He’ll see that the vote failed because of you when this is reported.”

  “You make me sick.” Nayjoor punched his button, got up, and left.

  “Fantastic!” Prax-Denay said. Lisette laughed again.

  Elentinus rose. “Adjourned.”

  “That’s not for you to say,” Matoranis said, but also stood.

  “Adjourned!” number four said.

  The rest of them dispersed.

  Barrister Graw emerged from the audience (where a petulant Jorenkis was ranting to his peers).

  “I’ve recorded that you’ve been absolved of blasphemy,” Graw said to them. “Do you need accommodations in the city?”

  Prax-Denay looked at Lisette.

  “I want to go home,” she said.

  He hugged her against him once again. “Just deliver us to the spaceport.”

  Graw bowed to him. “Of course. And congratulations. Both on the trial, and on your impending birth.”

  Lisette broke down into joyful tears. Prax-Denay tipped up her chin with a finger and kissed her.

  They had to wait inside the sleek spaceport for transport to Paggellatin to be prepared for them. They sat on a bench with a broad window behind them. Prax-Denay chose to face a large monitor with a newscast rather than watch the ships. The headline of ‘Etiken Castration Outlawed’ stayed on the top of the screen. A feminine android was giving the full report of what happened in the Hall of Governance. Lisette only half listened. She leaned against Prax-Denay with their fingers entwined. The weight of anxiety had left her exhausted. All she wanted was to be back home, in her bed, with her husband.

  Prax-Denay stood suddenly. “Brother!”

  Elentinus and Hor-Denay walked to them. Prax-Denay went to his much homelier brother and took both his hands.

  “Gods it’s good to see you again,” Prax-Denay said.

  “I can’t believe what you accomplished,” Hor-Denay said. “You’re a hero to our race once again.”

  “Lord Elentinus is the hero.”

  Elentinus stared at Lisette. She met his gaze.

  “You’ve a glow about you,” he said. “I see the same in Maritza when she’s pregnant.”

  Lisette pursed her lips.

  “You don’t need to fear me. I was only harsh toward Prax-Denay so the others would vote in his favor.”

  “I know,” Lisette said. She smiled. “Thank you.”

  He bowed his head to her.

  “It’s just as I planned all along,” Hor-Denay said. “We’ve ended castration and ensured the continuation of our people.”

  “What did you have to do with it?” Prax-Denay said.

  “I told her to pursue you. She was merely obeying my orders.”

  Prax-Denay looked at Lisette. “Is that so?”

  A mischievous smile formed on her face.

  “What a foolhardy thing to do, brother! You could have ruined everything. How dare you interfere?”

  “How dare I? You should thank me. You’re happy, aren’t you?”

  Lisette stood and pushed herself under Prax-Denay’s arm. She beamed a bright smile to both Hor-Denay and Elentinus.

  “Yes,” she said. “We are.”

  “Jorenkis,” Celia-Denay said.

  Lisette peeked into Jorenkis’ office while her pale blue four-year-old daughter stood beside his desk.

  “What is it?” Jorenkis said.

  “Mommy wanted me to give you this.” She placed a spitty piece of candy in his hand.

  “Gah!” Jorenkis threw it against the wall.

  Lisette laughed from the doorway. Jorenkis was appalled.

  “Would you get her out of here? I’m trying to get some work done.”

  Lisette came in and plucked her daughter up by her armpits. “It’s Saturday,” she said.

  “No. No Saturday. Saturday is an Earth thing. There’s no Saturdays here. We work every day.”

  “You don’t work every day,” Celia-Denay said.

  “Hey! Would you just—get old enough to marry or something?”

  Lisette made a disgusted face. The suggestion would have made her furious just a few years ago. Thankfully the spoiled aristocrat had started to grow up. If he continued improving there just might be a chance at her future blessing (though it was unlikely).

  Prax-Denay came out of the nursery beside the lab and scooped Celia-Denay out of Lisette’s arms. He draped the spry child over his shoulder while she squealed with laughter. “Emma’s asleep, but Hor’s awake,” he said, speaking of their toddler daughter and infant son. “Do you want to try to feed him?”

  Lisette tested the weight of her milk-laden breasts with her hands. Finding the supply adequate she said, “Mm-hm.” She patted her daughter’s leg. “This one needs to be put down for her nap.”

  “I’m not tired!”

  Prax-Denay carted her upstairs anyway. “If you don’t sleep you’ll never grow horns.”

  “I’m growing them. I felt bumps, daddy!”

  “Where? Let me see.”

  Prax-Denay came back down later to sit with Lisette while she fed baby Hor-Denay. He caressed the bald head of his son first, and then kissed her.

  “Do you remember when you first came to the lab and we had to fix the damage the Instajant vaccine did to hybrid DNA?”

  Lisette nodded.

  “Celia’s as perfect a little girl as I could imagine. I would say we were successful.”

  “On that…and a lot of things. Everything worked out for the best.”

  “Even Jorenkis has become less annoying.”

  “That’s because he wants to marry our daughter one day.”

  Prax-Denay’s brow twitched. “Is that so? Remind me to kill him later.”

  “No.” She lowered their son back into his crib. “That would change things.”

  Prax-Denay stood beside her and caressed her hair. Lisette gazed into his eyes.

  “Our world is perfect…just the way it is.”

  END

  Bride Games

  Bride Games

  Viceroy Lysanter exited his palace bedroom and headed for the broad stairs that led down to the ministerial offices. His long dark hair, encircling two vertical horns, was still damp from his shower. He wore the simplest version of his uniform: a close-fitting dark mesh with attached armor. His slave Hester, a six-limbed Dornovonian, scampered from a side corridor to greet him.

  “Good morning, master,” the cheerful being said.

  “Ah, Hester.” Lysanter descended the stairs. “What’s up first for today?”

  “The Bride Games, master. The organizer is waiting for you.”

  Lysanter felt a stitch in his diaphragm. “Oh. That.” He expelled a deep breath and entered his office.

  The games organizer rose to greet him. The man was a Dak-Hiliah, the same as Lysanter, with blue skin decorated by noble red markings. He had less of Lysanter’s muscular bulk since his position did not require the measure of intimidation Lysanter’s traditionally did.

  “Minister Danfet,” Lysanter said, simultaneously clearing his throat and dropping into his chair behind a massive polished stone desk.

  “Good morning, good morning! I trust you’re excited. The games are set to begin tomorrow.”

  Lysanter picked up his tablet and scrolled through a list of headlines in the Dornovonian language. “I was tolerant,
but now I’m annoyed. Why have you come to see me?”

  Danfet formed a patient smile. “We’ve completely rehabilitated the derelict arena. There’s even a new commerce area at the front entrance. You should come see.”

  This got him too look up from his tablet. Having the arena useful again would be a boon to the Dornovonians. Still…

  “I’ll have a tour after these…games.”

  “They’re not so terrible, are they?”

  Lysanter tapped a headline on his tablet while attempting to maintain an even tone. “You’re making sport out of a deplorable situation.”

  “That’s not how I see it.” He crossed his legs. “We’re giving self-destructive slaves a way to become resigned to their fates.”

  Lysanter eyed him. “What if they win? Or am I to assume the game is rigged in our favor.”

  “Absolutely not. Our engineers designed the games to be difficult but achievable. A rigged game would defeat the purpose. The women need to know they had a fair chance at freedom.”

  “Are you really going to let them free?”

  “If they win? Of course.” Danfet looked affronted by the insinuation. “That solves the problem they’re causing in its own way. We get to remove these rebellious slaves from the breeding colony so they can no longer stir up trouble.”

  Lysanter fumed. “Remove them to where? The wilds of planet Earth?”

  “Worse than that. Wilds suggest viable flora and fauna. The forests these slaves keep running to are practically devoid of resources.” Danfet threw up his hands. “But that’s what they choose. That’s the freedom they’re demanding.”

  He grimaced and picked up his tablet again. “I want nothing to do with this. Now kindly excuse me. I’ve a great deal of work to see to.”

  Danfet wet his lips. “Actually, Lord Lysanter, there’s a matter I need to broach with you.”

  He made a low grumble. “What matter?”

  Danfet pulled a tablet out of the satchel he’d set on the floor. He thumbed through it quickly. “The matter of Lenora Winquist.” He set the tablet before Lysanter.

  On the screen was the picture of a female human well past the minimum breeding age. She had thick tendrils of blonde hair and bangs splayed over part of her sun-ravaged face. The woman’s youth was markedly visible from her grey, fawn-like eyes. Lysanter was struck by the beauty of the woman—this, despite how her jaw was set hard in defiance.

  Her grey eyes were perhaps once blue. Lysanter saw in them a level of hardship she could have likely spared herself. He found himself touched by this. Indeed, all his annoyance at the games organizer evaporated. He was mesmerized by the story in the woman’s face.

  “Lovely, isn’t she?” Danfet said.

  Lysanter closed his gaping mouth. “I…haven’t seen many humans.”

  “They always catch us off guard with their beauty. You’d think one of our rare Dak-Hiliah females are as beautiful as it can get, then you see a human.”

  Lysanter’s annoyance returned. “What about her?”

  “She’s unclaimed.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning she agreed to take part in the games but doesn’t have a husband in line to claim her if she loses.”

  Lysanter’s brow grew furrowed with anger. He managed to hide the irritating glimmer of hope that swelled in his chest. The viceroy of Dornovonia was not so easily manipulated.

  Danfet made the patient smile again, but this time struggled to produce it. “Lord Lysanter, why haven’t you taken a human wife? Your status gave you the right to marry and breed during the first two human collections.”

  Lysanter’s lips parted yet again. Outrageous! Danfet risked having his wretched games canceled and getting exiled from Dornovonia for daring to pry into his personal life. The small man was too confident in his audacity, however. He was withholding something—something which no doubt allowed him the privilege of such boldness. Lysanter considered his words carefully.

  “All right.” He leaned back and tipped up his nose. “I’ll humor you. I have no interest in sharing my life with an unwilling slave who despises me.”

  “Of course. You’re compassionate, just like your predecessor Lord Elentinus was. That’s why the High Council picked you to govern this obedient slave world. They knew you wouldn’t be cruel to them.”

  Lysanter resumed glaring at him and waited.

  “And that’s why…that’s why I think you’d be the perfect mate to this Lenora human. She’s not a bad person, just misinformed. She needs someone to convince her that we’re not monsters. Someone to teach her that she doesn’t have to fight us anymore. It’s going to take a compassionate man like you to get through to her.”

  “I see. So I’ll be this woman’s hero and savior, and we’ll live happily from then, right? That’s such unmitigated dross. It never works that way in reality. This woman doesn’t want my help. She doesn’t want a damned thing to do with any of us.”

  “But she’s still overcoming her programming.”

  “For Pakpo’s sake—what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “She’s ex-military.”

  Lysanter groaned.

  “She was programmed to fruitlessly resist us during the war, and now that it’s over she can’t make herself stop resisting. She’s obsessed with getting free, just as they taught her. The slave colony on Earth is a most civilized place. They have near complete autonomy, yet she still thinks it’s better to live like an animal in the woods. If she hasn’t escaped then she’s plotting to, and last time another girl even ran away with her. We don’t have the manpower to police this girl. The colony is meant to have minimal interference. We want happy slaves willingly building up the human population. She can’t go back there. She has to be married out or abandoned.”

  Lysanter picked up the tablet with the woman’s picture again. “It doesn’t look like she managed well in the woods.”

  “Pah! You’ve no idea. The last time she escaped she ran so far with the other slave it took ages to find them. Lenora was almost dead with some Earth ailment caused by the cold.”

  This made Lysanter cringe. “That’s her prize if she wins? To go back to the woods?”

  “Exactly my point. She’s self-destructive.”

  He pushed the tablet away. “You’re asking me to marry someone who hates us even more than the average Earthling.”

  “She’s willingly accepted the wager, Lord Lysanter. She knows she’ll have to resign herself to the situation if she loses.” Danfet pursed his lips. “I’m appealing to your mercy. Give her a chance to survive with us rather than dying in her resistance of us. If…if it can’t work out then divorce her. At least someone should try to save her. Women are so few and precious. Shouldn’t every one of them be protected?”

  “She could still win at these games. At least according to you.”

  “I’ve set it up so the contestants can spend time with their intended husbands between each round. My hope is that after she gets to know you she’ll want to lose. Maybe she’ll even forfeit.”

  Lysanter gave an acrimonious laugh.

  “Don’t discount this. I could have assigned her to hundreds of eligible Dak-Hiliah noblemen. I saved her for you.”

  “Why would you ever do something so stupid?”

  “I have reason to believe it’s your fate to be with her.”

  This made him tip back his head with the brief laughter. “Really?”

  “I’m not going to say any more about that.”

  Lysanter felt a crackle of electricity race down his spine. Once again he suspected Danfet of having some advantage over him.

  “I’m going to ask you, just once and never again, will you be Lenora Winquist’s husband if she loses in the games?”

  Lysanter’s lower lip trembled. Danfet was staring at him with a level of determination that showed he’d be true to his word. He plucked up the tablet again. His intention was to mull the prospect seriously. This wasn’t a trifling commitment, but marriage, so
mething he’d sworn not to do with an unwilling bride.

  Could she be made willing?

  “I…” The words were coming out before he’d considered it in full. “I’ll do it.” Had he really said it? For a moment he felt as if he’d lost control of himself. He was never so reckless.

  Something compelled him to agree. Those gray eyes…eyes that had never known happiness.

  Danfet clapped his hands. “Fantastic! The Druid Pakpo will be so pleased!”

  Lysanter felt a tightening in his middle. “What?”

  Danfet smiled. “Our Most Holiest told me to offer this woman to you. He said not to let you know his wishes unless you agreed. He didn’t want you to feel obligated.”

  “The…High Druid decreed this?”

  Danfet gathered his tablet and placed it in his bag. “It was unofficial. He said it was your fate to be with her. I mean, here you are having never taken a bride, and then the games get assigned to Dornovonia, the world that you rule? It’s as if destiny were bringing you together.”

  Lysanter stared at him agape. His mouth had gone dry.

  “Make sure you clear your schedule for the next three days. Be at the arena at trector-dawn. I’ll give your slave all the instructions.”

  Danfet exited, leaving Lysanter alone with the implications of his decision.

  Four Days Ago…

  The west sector slave leader Dugan shook Lenora until she jolted upright in her bunk.

  “Lenora, that bastard’s here,” Dugan said. “He’s asking for you.”

  Lenora’s heart thundered with panic at once. She wasn’t awake enough to fully decipher the words, only Dugan’s fearful tone. “Bastard…?” she said with vocal cords that were not yet fully functional.

  “Lord Elentinus!” The portion of Dugan’s face not covered by beard reddened. “He’s come for you, Lenora.”

  Now she became fully conscious. He’d be here to punish her for her last escape. She’d recuperated for two months from the hypothermia and malnutrition. Now the day she’d dreaded had finally come.

  Her eyes squeezed closed with instant tears. “Oh, God.”

  “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Dugan said. The other two human slave leaders, Esther and Magpie, were standing behind him with sympathetic expressions. “Don’t give him the satisfaction. You’ll get through it. It’ll be over before you know it.”