Mission To Mahjundar (A Sectors SF Romance)

by Veronica Scott

  The guests were mostly from Nikolai's command staff. Everett was in attendance, thin, pale, but looking like a different person in his dress uniform. Mike hadn’t expected anything more than a bare bones civil ceremony, but a few minutes ago Nikolai confided that the Andromeda’s Executive Officer’s deepest secret was her love for steamy romance novels from the holo serial library. “Don’t ask how I know,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “But when I told her there was to be a wedding between a princess and a Special Forces officer, with her challenge being to provide the dress, she went all-out. I promise your bride will have all the necessary details for her special day, my friend.”

  Now, the AI played a processional from the days of old Terra, which Mike's ancestors had carried with them to their new home world.

  Shalira, walking alone, appeared in the doorway.

  Her beauty took Mike's breath away.

  She wore her silky black hair pinned on her head in a loose chignon, the hairstyle accenting her beautiful cheekbones and luminous eyes. The Windhunter collar lay clasped around her long, elegant neck, the locket of Pavmiraia resting on top. The white, sleeveless dress was floor-length, shimmering fabric, slit to the knee, with a short train. Shalira was barefoot, which she’d informed him previously was the custom on Mahjundar for a bride. Her toenails were painted pale silver to match the dress, but she wore no other makeup or enhancements.

  Her huge cocoa-brown eyes were fixed directly on Mike's face. The ship's hydroponics section had donated a generous portion of real Terran roses and ferns, customarily never cut, and these had been fashioned into a bouquet with silver ribbons. Shalira carried this in the curve of her left arm.

  The ceremony itself took only a few minutes. His bride’s focus never left Mike's face as she recited her vows in response to his, and to Nikolai's prompts. Mike had asked his friend to omit the portion asking who gave the bride in marriage, not wanting to cause her pain by emphasizing the loss of her beloved Saium. She watched as Mike slid his Academy ring onto her left hand. It had been resized in the Andromeda's shop that afternoon to fit her slender finger. Sparkling in the overhead lights, the Terran diamond set in the center of the ring threw off rainbows. Surprising him, she had a ring for him as well, made from a sliver of the cherindor scepter’s gold, worked by the clever techs onboard the ship on a rush basis at her request.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Nikolai intoned. “You may kiss the bride, Major!”

  Folding Shalira in his arms, Mike kissed her long and hard, until the clapping and cheering of the audience reminded him where they were. Then the couple wheeled to face the gathering, Mike presenting her with a flourish.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mrs. James Michael Varone!” He could barely speak past the pride and overwhelming happiness in his heart.

  “I’ve ordered a wedding dinner in honor of our newlyweds,” Nikolai said. “The meal has been set out in the officers' mess, if you’ll follow me.”

  The ship's cooks and the AI had outdone themselves in preparing a generous dinner. More of the precious hydroponic flowers decorated the table, and wine from the captain's private stock flowed freely. Countless toasts to the happy newlyweds were made along with calls for their long and prosperous future together. Johnny gave a short speech. Shalira ate and drank sparingly, as did Mike, but they managed to share a piece of the cake the head chef had personally baked, using an ancient recipe that had been in his family for generations. He'd never had the occasion to use it before and told Mike that he and the AI had puzzled over some of the ingredients, trying to find modern day substitutes the Andromeda actually stocked.

  Finally Nikolai stood to make one last toast. “I’ve moved out of my quarters for tonight, in order to provide a suitable room for a honeymoon. As I recall, the bachelor officers' quarters weren't designed with newlyweds in mind. To Mr. and Mrs. Varone!”

  Mike felt himself flushing beneath his space tan, but he thanked Nikolai for his kindness and consideration.

  “I’ll escort you to my private access gravlift and bid you good night, then,” the captain said. “Please, I urge my other guests to remain here, finish your wine and cake.”

  As they stood to leave, Shalira lifted her bouquet and took a deep breath of the heady rose perfume before addressing the assembled guests. “I’m told on my new world it’s customary for the bride to throw the bouquet amongst the unmarried women, for one lucky girl to catch and become next to wed. I choose instead to give these amazing flowers to the Executive Officer, who made so much happiness possible for me tonight, blending my customs and those of your Sectors.” Looking down the table to where the woman sat, Shalira smiled. “My wedding was like a dream, so perfect—how can I ever thank you?”

  The officer, visibly embarrassed, left her seat to take the bouquet. She mumbled a thank you, assuring Shalira the arrangements had been her pleasure to make, before stepping back. Nikolai took Shalira by one elbow, Mike at the other, and they left the officers mess.

  Five minutes later the newlyweds were alone in the captain's quarters of the Andromeda. Nikolai had left another bottle of wine chilling on the table in the outer chamber, with two glasses ready. Mike felt drunk enough with the sheer joy of the occasion. I don’t need stimulants to enhance the evening. Nothing could be better than this.

  “Old tradition, my love, I have to carry you across the threshold. Actually, I should have carried you over the entry into this room, but I thought those crewmen in the corridor had seen enough for one night.” Lifting her effortlessly, he carried her into the bedroom. She clung to him happily, seeming a little giddy, a bit nervous.

  “Your friends gave us a beautiful wedding. So different from what we have on Mahjundar, but lovely. Everyone has been nice to me on this ship.” There was a minor tremor in her voice. “The experience has been a good beginning for my new life in the Sectors.”

  “I'm about to be more than nice to you,” he whispered in a teasing voice. She giggled—there was no other word for it—and nibbled at his ear. Placing her on the bed, he stood admiring her for a moment, not quite ready to believe she was his for the rest of their lives. As he undid the fastenings of his dress uniform tunic, he said, “I love you. All the trouble and close calls on this mission were worth it, to end up here, with you as my bride.”

  “I’m no longer the Princess of Shadows.” Her smile was wide and the golden glints in her eyes fairly glowed with pleasure.

  “Rescued by your true love?” Mike quoted the folktale even as he shook his head. “You had as much to do with rescuing yourself from the situation as I did. Rescuing both of us, to my great and everlasting good fortune.”

  “Perhaps the ending is better this way. Did you know my ancestors offered a fabulous reward for recovering the Cherindor Scepter from the Djeelaba?” she asked.

  “I think someone mentioned it in the briefing, yes.”

  “The reward was the hand of a princess and a roomful of gold,” she said. “I wish I had a dowry to bring to you. Even the scepter is worthless now, the stone cracked and dulled.”

  He settled onto the bed next to her, taking her hand and kissing it. “I only need you.”

  “And I love you.” She reached to pull him onto the bed with her.

  The beautiful gown and the dress uniform soon fell onto the deck in a tumbled heap. Mike and Shalira celebrated a proper wedding night in the privacy of Nikolai's quarters, undisturbed by any worries over what the future might hold, lost in happiness, being free to be together as the Andromeda sailed on through the galaxy, away from Mahjundar.

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  About the Author

  Best Selling Science Fiction & Paranormal Romance author and “SciFi Encounters” columnist for the USA Today Happily Ever After blog, Veronica Scott grew up in a house with a library as its heart. Dad loved science fiction, Mom loved ancient history and Veronica thought there needed to be more romance in everything. When she ran out of books to read, she started writing her own stories.

  Married young to her high school sweetheart then widowed, Veronica has two grown daughters, one grandson and cats Keanu and Jake.

  Veronica’s life has taken many twists and turns, but she always makes time to keep reading and writing. Everything is good source material for the next novel or the one after that, right? She’s been through earthquakes, tornadoes and near death experiences…Always more stories to tell, new adventures to experience—Veronica’s personal motto is, “Never boring.”

  Veronica is a two time winner of the SFR Galaxy Award (for Escape From Zulaire and Wreck of the Nebula Dream.). She also received a National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award for Escape From Zulaire.

  She’s a proud recipient of a NASA Exceptional Service Medal but must hasten to add the honor was not for her romantic fiction!

  Blog: veronicascott.wordpress.com

  Email: veronica.scott.author@gmail.com

  Other Titles by Veronica Scott

  Priestess of the Nile

  Warrior of the Nile

  Dancer of the Nile

  Magic of the Nile

  Escape From Zulaire

  Wreck of the Nebula Dream

  For your enjoyment, here’s an excerpt from the beginning of my best selling novel Escape From Zulaire, a standalone science fiction romance novel set in the world of the Sectors:

  This is the most absurd thing I’ve ever done as assistant planetary agent for Loxton Galactic Trading—standing in as a bridesmaid in a borrowed puce dress because some other girl failed to show up. Andi Markriss sighed, feeling the garment binding too tight across her chest. I didn’t mind representing the company as a guest, but this is way outside the line of duty.

  Early afternoon on Zulaire was too warm for an outdoor ceremony, but the Planetary High Lord’s spoiled daughter Lysanda didn’t care to be ready any earlier in the day. Her guests’ comfort wasn’t a consideration.

  An inch at a time, Andi shifted from her assigned spot into the shade cast by the towering stone pillars. How did I get talked into this? Oh, yes, Lysanda wept, and her mother made vague threats about her husband reviewing our shipping contracts. As the musicians played, Andi turned, watching Lysanda pace toward the dais in time to the music, smiling for her groom-to-be.

  The local priest took a deep breath and launched into a lengthy blessing, invoking the deity and relating the history of the planet’s three Clans—Obati, Shenti and Naranti. Andi chanted along with him under her breath. Overlords, Second Class and Neutrals, as her boss had told her when she’d arrived on Zulaire six years ago. Easy to keep them straight that way, he’d said, but don’t ever slip and use the nicknames out loud.

  “This young pair from two of the highest families will cement our peace,” the priest proclaimed, lowering his arms and beaming at Princess Lysanda and her intended. “Their offspring will embody the union of Obati and Shenti blood.”

  Applause from the crowd, led by the bride’s mother, made the officiant blush. As he bowed, Lysanda blew her mother a kiss.

  That ovation will spur him to more oratory for sure. Andi smothered a sigh, wiggling her aching toes, held too tight in the borrowed silver sandals. I thought the last three weeks of engagement parties, picnics and games out here in the summer compound were endless, but this ceremony tops them all.

  “The bride and groom will now light the symbolic candles.” The priest led the pair to the side altar, where a trio of candles—blue, green and ivory—had been set into massive golden holders. Representing the three Clans, the candle ritual reinforced the political symbolism of this ceremony. Everything symbolic on Zulaire came in threes, Andi thought, watching the couple light each candle in turn.

  Sneezing violently as the slight afternoon breeze carried colorful but pungent smoke from the burning tapers in her direction, she earned herself a glare and a hissed “Shh!” from the woman standing next to her. After taking a deep, cleansing breath of the fragrant bouquet she’d been clutching, Andi gave the other attendant a faint smile.

  Lysanda had argued long and hard with her mother earlier about allowing Andi to substitute for the unaccountably missing handmaiden. Only the fact that without Andi to partner him, an important groomsman would be omitted from the ceremony swayed the decision. Good for Loxton’s business networking that I’m here. The Planetary Lord’s family owes me personally now for preserving the precious symmetry of Lysanda’s wedding party, at the cost of my aching feet. With a flash of amusement at the ludicrous situation, Andi smiled. Lucky for the princess, I accepted the invitation on behalf of Loxton, not my portly boss.

  Tuning out the priest’s new recitation of more sacred writings, since the man had a nasal voice and a tendency to repeat himself, Andi studied the intricate carvings in the shiny black stone wall of the pavilion across from her, details brought to clarity by the slanting sun’s rays.

  The bas-relief depicted a stylized sun above a giant, multitrunked malagoy tree—each trunk symbolizing one of the three Zulairian tribes—Obati and Shenti locked in an eternal struggle to rule the planet, jockeying back and forth for thousands of years of bloody history. All the while the Naranti stayed neutral, filling a perpetual peacemakers’ role, as their god, Sanenre, had legendarily decreed. Symbolic of their Clan’s allotted role in the planet’s history, the Naranti trunk was at the center of the tree, supporting the other two.

  A skillfully carved herd of three-horned urabu grazed beneath the sheltering arms of the malagoy, the alpha buck depicted in a watchful stance, stone face staring at the occupants of the dais. The image of these legendary creatures, with their sweeping triple horns, was found everywhere on Zulaire, even on the Planetary Lord’s seal. Beloved symbol of the god Sanenre, legendary bearers of good fortune and blessings, the gazellelike animals were extinct now, of course, hunted for the ivory of their sweeping horns.

  Lysanda and her betrothed were repeating vows after the priest.

  Apparently as bored as Andi was, the youngest attendant at the ceremony, just a toddler really, came across the platform with unsteady steps, reaching for Andi, her favorite playmate of the last few weeks. Missing her nieces and nephews, who lived far away in her own home Sector of the galaxy, Andi had been happy to skip a few adult entertainments to amuse the young ones of the house during her stay.

  After a quick hug, the little girl plunked herself at Andi’s feet, leaning against her legs. Pulling the flower garland from her glossy curls, she picked the petals off the blossoms while humming the processional tune off-key. The priest began to wrap up, raising his voice to override the toddler’s song. Andi stared out over the crowd.

  Quite a few empty chairs. A surprising number of high-ranking Obati guests had failed to arrive, which had driven the bride’s mother into an angry tirade shortly before the ceremony. The failure of the missing bridesmaid and her family to show up had created another firestorm. Lady Tonkiln had a long memory for social slights.

  It’s been an odd summer, that’s for sure. Andi would be glad to see fall arrive, when business always picked up and she could get back to the office, dive into the complexities of intergalactic trading and leave the socializing to others. And decide if it’s time to leave Zulaire for another assignment. Six years is too long to stay on one planet, if I want my next promotion. I wish I didn’t love it here so much.

  Of course, no one had expected Planetary Lord Tonkiln to leave the important business of ruling Zulaire for his daughter’s handfasting. He’d be at the formal wedding later in the year, he
ld in the massive shrine at the capital, to accept the Shenti groom’s petition for marriage to Lysanda. His oldest son, Gul, had been scheduled to stand in for the ruler today, but in typical Gul fashion, he hadn’t shown up.

  His careless attitude to responsibilities had been one of the reasons Andi had never let their casual, off-and-on-again affair become more serious. Charming as he was, Gul was unreliable.

  Glancing along the fringes of the crowd where the invited Shenti guests were sitting, she saw everyone attentive, focusing on the glowing bride and handsome groom.

  The Naranti servants clustered at the rear of the outdoor pavilion looked bored. I suppose they just want to get this over with so they can clean up.

  Well, me, too. I want to get out of this dress. What a wretched color Lysanda picked! Andi sighed. I’m glad I can wear my own clothing tonight at the reception, when I present the Loxton corporate bride gift.

  And still the ceremony continued. The bride gazed soulfully at her fiancé while he knelt, serenading her with a traditional Zulairian love song. As if she hadn’t been making fun of this very part of the ritual less than an hour ago. What a little actress.

  This was a coolly negotiated union of the ruling Obati family and an influential Shenti house to further cement everyone’s power. Lysanda and her groom are doing an excellent job of portraying lovebirds for the crowd. Both loving the spotlight. How fortunate he can sing—the family didn’t have to hire someone to carry the tune for him. Andi blinked, turning her full attention back to the couple as her own most favorite moment of the handfasting ceremony arrived—the giving of the bridal shawl. In the old days, she knew, these shawls had been hand-woven, selected by the groom with much care to symbolically enfold his chosen one in his love. Lysanda’s shawl followed current fashion in the capital – machine-made, trimmed with three kinds of lace, the two family crests outlined in semiprecious gems—all about the show, not the emotion. Two attendants carried the unfolded shawl to the groom, displaying the embroidery and jewels for the guests to admire.