by Amber Stuart
The next woman I looked at had an unappealing voice. And the next one was so demure that she seemed nervous—not a quality fit for a future queen. I was almost ready to close the program and take a break until I stumbled upon the first human I had seen in all the listings.
Immediately, I selected her profile. She was gorgeous, with a voluptuous body that incited my lust. Her long, wavy hair was a rich dark brown in color, and her eyes amber. Her face had an easygoing, friendly expression on it. I felt inexplicably calmed when I gazed upon her and at that moment, I had a flash of insight. This was why all the men of my race were eventually thrilled to select a woman. There was something special that happened when you found the right one. It felt so strange—almost familiar, comfortable even.
I had never felt like this in my entire life. It was a foreign feeling. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not, but I knew that it meant something important.
I kept reading her profile. She said she liked animals, which wasn’t surprising—I figured an Earth girl would. She also enjoyed working with her hands and doing crafts, which was a respectable quality on my planet. We had a rich culture of doing that sort of thing; everything in the palace was handmade by hired artisans, and even royalty liked to make their own furnishings and decorations for their palaces.
I played the recording, hoping that her voice would be pleasant to listen to. It was. I was shocked by how taken I was with her, but most of all, I just wanted to keep listening to her voice. It was so lovely.
The one thing I didn’t care for was her sense of dress. She was wearing those blue pants that were ubiquitous on her planet; they looked rough and unflattering and not at all like something a woman ought to be wearing. But that didn’t matter. When she became my queen, the palace tailors would create a new custom wardrobe for her.
I hesitated. Did I want to go ahead and select her? Even though she was the first woman I had seen who had inspired such strong feelings in me, I couldn’t help but feel nervous about making such a big decision. I didn’t want to make it based on emotions. I felt good about her, but how would my feelings help me choose a partner with whom I was compatible? There were many factors to consider.
I sat back in my chair. I supposed it didn’t matter too much how compatible she was with me. She was to be my wife, after all, so she would have to be a quiet but strong partner by my side. And choosing her now wasn’t a total commitment—according to the company, we would meet each other in an initial interview, and then decide. Though from what I had been told, deciding not to go through with it after the interview was rude.
Maybe I could ask my parents, I thought. Especially my mother, who would know more about women, even if they were from a different species. But then, I had to make this decision myself. No amount of waffling and procrastinating would save me from having to press the button and select her.
I had to just do it.
So I did. After I selected her, I had to input some basic information about myself and then it was done. She would soon receive her notification that she had been selected, and we would meet each other for our interview. We would be able to ask each other questions, and I would be able to determine if it was a good fit. She didn’t have much of a choice, of course—that was part of the contract she had signed. If I wanted her, I’d get her.
As I got ready to go down for dinner, I felt better. Now that I had set the process in motion, I just had to sit back and let it all happen. I was so relieved that I thought I might like to take my ship out after dinner and get it cleaned, something I had always been putting off. I knew, thanks to my mother, that most women appreciated cleanliness, so I wanted to impress my new bride when I met her.
I smiled to myself as I took the chute down to the first floor dining room. I was already thinking of her as my bride. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
My parents were already seated at our dinner table. They looked up at me expectantly, and I was glad that I was able to give them the news they wanted to hear.
“I did it,” I said. “I chose my new bride.”
My mother smiled, her dark violet crest of hair rising in excitement. “I want to know all about her,” she said.
“Me too,” said my father. He looked calm and regal, as a king should be, though I could also see the exhaustion on his face. I shuddered to think that soon I’d have as much responsibility as he did.
“Well, she’s a human,” I started. “From Earth,” I added, noting their puzzled expressions.
“Oh, that makes sense,” said my father with a laugh. “You know Earth has certain military benefits as well, correct? Well, of course you would—you’ve practically grown up there.”
“Right,” I replied, nodding and sitting down at my seat. A servant immediately came to my side, scurrying to fill my plate with hot, delicious food. I was starving; I hadn’t realized how much the bride selection process would take out of me.
“We could just go explore those benefits for ourselves,” said my father musingly, “but it will be much easier if our future queen is from the planet. Good choice.”
“What about her personality?” prodded my mother. I knew she’d want to know what kind of woman I had chosen.
“She seems gentle and sweet, like I’d expect a wife to be,” I said. “She also seems smart enough and she likes animals. I can’t think of anything bad about her, really.”
“You’re not going to discover those things initially,” said my mother. “But I trust that the company’s application process is thorough.”
“I think so,” I said. As I took generous spoonfuls of my soup, I couldn’t help but fantasize about my new wife. It seemed like I already knew that I’d pick her even after the interview process. I couldn’t believe that such a change in my life had come about so quickly. Just this morning, I was loathe to be married, but now…
It was almost like I was looking forward to it.
CHAPTER TWO
Maia
For the millionth time, I couldn’t believe it. Had I really signed up as a mail order bride? I knew about them from decades past, when people really would get mail order brides from Russian, Thailand, the Philippines, and other far-flung places. And now I was going to be one myself. But unlike those women, I wasn’t going to get married to another human.
I was going to be the bride of an alien.
Galactic Matrimony hadn’t been that successful on Earth, from what I’d heard. It was only crazy women like me who were okay with the idea of leaving their planet and taking on a new life somewhere out in the stars. They had plenty of other women in their “catalog” from other planets, but Earth girls were scarce. Because of this, naturally, they were in high demand for alien species, including the Mirrotirik.
To entice Earth women to sign up, the company promised to set our families up for life. That is, they’d never want for food, shelter, or material comforts. How could anyone say no to that?
My family hadn’t pressured me of course, but when I received the notice in the mail, advertising the opportunity, it had seemed like the perfect solution to our financial problems. The company was exceedingly generous—they’d cover all of my little brothers and sisters for life, too. That meant that when they married, their families would never have to worry.
I loved my little siblings more than anything. And I loved my parents for working so hard to give me a great childhood. They didn’t have a lot of money, but they did have a lot of love. They never made me feel like I had to go without. As soon as I learned about Galactic Matrimony, I realized I had to do it for them.
And I had to admit, my motivations weren’t entirely altruistic. I had heard all sorts of fascinating things about aliens. There were so many species out there and so many rumors that it was hard to know anything for sure, except one thing—all of the aliens who were customers of Galactic Matrimony were wealthy. I’d never have to worry about my future either.
It was incredible to think of how wealthy the alien
s were. It had never occurred to me, until the Mirrotirik invaded and colonized Earth, that our same economic system would be replicated elsewhere in the galaxy. But it was, and there were individuals out there who were rich beyond anyone on Earth’s wildest dreams.
On top of that, they enjoyed excellent medical care, amazing technologies, and all sorts of other luxuries. Thankfully, they were willing to share many of these things with us. Even though my family wasn’t rich at all, we were able to afford a few of the “screens” that the Mirrotirik had produced. These screens were a million times better than any TV, smartphone, or computer, so they had pretty much replaced all of those things.
I took mine out. You could bend it and pull it to stretch it into any size or shape that was convenient for you. Some people even had versions that you could attach to a wall, so they’d become as big as the entire wall. These had supplanted home theaters.
While it was much more functional than any smartphone—especially because it could read your intentions while you held it—my screen served the same purpose. I often used it to check my emails. I didn’t have to press any buttons, which was always neat. I just had to hold the sides—which were neural input devices—and think about what I wanted to do. And what I wanted to do, for the hundredth time that week, was see if I had received a notification from Galactic Matrimony.
They had promised that they would email me as soon as I had a match. My family would only get the money when I was successfully married to my future husband, so I was pretty anxious to get the process going. I knew Earth girls were in demand, according to them (and according to myself—I had looked at the catalog and I was only one of a half dozen in there), so I just had to be patient and wait.
I wondered, not for the first time, why the Mirrotirik and their allies were so interested in women from this planet. We didn’t have the flashy colors of the other species; my golden brown eyes and tan skin were the best I could do. We weren’t as muscular or physically strong as the other species either. I had no idea what a handsome Mirrotirik warrior would want with someone like me.
I did know I was good-looking, sure, but the Mirrotirik were on a different level entirely. I’d seen plenty of both the men and the women, and they were all gorgeous. Of course, some were more beautiful than others. But on the whole, even an average Mirrotirik was very pleasing to the eye.
The men were broad-chested and muscular with angular faces, while the women were graceful and lean. Their skin was beautifully colored in shades like pale blue and plum—all cool, purple and bluish colors. And their eyes were the most enchanting of all—you could see a rainbow in those iridescent orbs, which changed color based on their mood.
Earth guys didn’t stand a chance. Maybe it wasn’t so strange that I had signed up for all this, after all. Maybe a part of me did want a taste of the unknown.
My heart jolted when I heard my screen chirp. I did have an email from Galactic Matrimony. Had the time really come? Had I been selected as someone’s future bride?
Dear Maia, the email started, Congratulations! You have been selected for your initial interview by Taliskirrik, Prince of Virrim. Please reply to this email to set up a time and date. We hope to see you soon!
Unfortunately, the email didn’t include any more information on this prince, and searching the Internet didn’t yield anything either—the Internet was still only really for humans. I imagined that the Mirrotirik had better things to do in their free time.
With my fingers trembling, I replied to the notification. I wanted to get this interview over with as soon as possible so I could be on my way. Being in limbo like this, in a transitional time in my life, was unnerving. I was more than ready to get settled into this prince’s palace and get started on my new life.
A pang of sadness went through me as I sent the email off. I felt good about my decision to help my family. But I wouldn’t have that much freedom as the consort of someone wealthy and powerful. I was signing myself up for a good life, but a restricted one. And I knew nothing about this Taliskirrik. I could only hope that he was a good guy.
Of course, Galactic Matrimony vetted their customers as well—they didn’t want women to be put off by reports of bad matches. If the application process I went through was any indication, I’d be in good hands with whatever guy I ended up with. They had asked me detailed questions about my life and my personality to see what kind of person I really was. They didn’t want anyone to back out at the last minute. They put a lot of effort into making sure these were strong matches. But still, I couldn’t help but worry.
It’d be nice to do something for myself for a change, I thought, as I left my room and went to make some lunch. I was suddenly feeling antsy; I didn’t want to have to wait to hear back from them again. I gazed sadly at my family’s small but cozy kitchen.
I was going to miss it.
It was finally time for me to go meet my new husband, Taliskirrik. I didn’t have that many fancy clothes, but I picked out my nicest dress that I usually wore when I went to weddings. It was odd to be wearing it now, on the eve of my own wedding, but it was my best option.
Galactic Matrimony had sent a car to get me. The cars the Mirrotirik had introduced were much better than anything humans had ever invented. They were powered by something like hydrogen cells and released absolutely zero pollution—just water vapor. Despite that, they were stronger than any truck.
The driver was human, thankfully. I didn’t get to see the aliens much; they kept to their own areas even on Earth, so I wouldn’t stumble upon one at the supermarket or anything like that.
It was a short ride to the spaceport, where the Mirrotirik arrived and departed. They had one on the outskirts of nearly every big city. I was to meet the Galactic Matrimony representative there, where they would then take me to meet Taliskirrik.
The spaceport was unlike any airport I had ever seen. It looked decidedly futuristic, shiny and glassy and new. I had passed by it a few times, but I’d never been inside. I could see the tall, colorful forms of the Mirrotirik milling around inside.
They were usually very scantily clad because they didn’t have the same societal norms as we did. In fact, I had a suspicion that the Mirrotirik who lived on Earth were dressed a little more conservatively than they would have been on their home planet. It was like this through every season; I guessed they weren’t affected much by temperature changes.
When I went inside, I immediately saw the Galactic Matrimony representative holding a sign with my name. Of course, she didn’t need the sign—I was the only human present there who wasn’t working.
“Maia,” said the Mirrotirik woman in a cool voice. “My name is Skivvim and I will take you to see the Prince.”
That was one thing I liked about the aliens—they were to the point. They didn’t mess around too much with small talk and all that. They were all business. My mother wouldn’t have liked it, but I did. It helped ensure that this process would go all the faster.
I followed Skivvim with some difficulty; her long legs made her hard to keep up with. I watched the gauzy green fabric flutter around her slender, paw-like feet with some envy; it was still hard for me to believe than an alien prince could be interested in me.
“This is the gate for the Prince’s ship,” she explained as we approached a tunnel. It was set up a lot like an airline gate; I could see the ship itself docked outside. It was going to be the first time I set foot on a spaceship. The thing was much smaller than I expected; the size of a small passenger jet. It looked lethal, though. The angular design and bullet-like shape showed that it was built for speed and easy maneuvering.
A pair of Mirrotirik guards waved us through. My first thought was that the ship smelled amazingly like a forest, rather than the sterile, stuffy smell I associated with airplanes. It was fragrant with the smell of plants and flowers, even though I couldn’t see any anywhere.
But I was quickly distracted by the sight of Taliskirrik himself. There was no
question that it was him. He looked regal, sitting in his chair and peering at something on his screen.
“Prince of Virrim, you have a guest,” said the attendant standing next to me.
He hadn’t needed the notification. He knew that we had arrived. He folded his screen and placed it on the table next to him and looked up at me calmly. I quailed under his gaze; even though I knew that he had chosen me over all the other women in the catalog, I had the paranoid feeling that he’d decide he had chosen wrong and send me back home.
“I’m glad to meet you, Maia,” he said.
“Same to you,” I squeaked, wishing that I had an ounce of his confidence.
“You can call me Tal,” he replied.
“Excuse me,” said the attendant, but Tal cut him off.
“If she’s going to be my wife, then she can call me Tal,” he said.
“It’s good to meet you too,” I said.
“Excellent. Thank you, Skivvim, Jarrik. Can we have the room to ourselves for a while?” asked the Prince.
They nodded deferentially and stepped out. I was all alone with the Prince. My heart was pounding and I almost felt like I was going to faint, but I didn’t dare move until he told me to.
“Have a seat here,” he said, motioning to a chair across from him.
I sat down in the seat carefully. I resisted the urge to fidget with my fingers. I wanted to come across as just as cool and collected as he was.
“So, I’ve chosen you out of all the others in the catalog,” he started.
“I’m um, flattered,” I said. “I mean, thank you.”
He smiled, and his angular face became even more handsome. His skin was a purple-blue color, mesmerizing and lovely. It almost seemed to shift in the light, and his deep blue robes made him look even more princely. The translucent fabric did nothing to hide his muscles; in fact, it seemed to highlight them somehow. Though I did note that the fabric became more opaque around his crotch. I looked away quickly.