Текст книги "Married to the alien cowboy"
Автор книги: Ursa Dox
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
Elora Station. That was a fantastic fucking start. The human-run commerce station was a good distance from Terratribe I. I had no doubt that Magnus had contacts on the station, but hopefully I wouldn’t be there long before I shipped off to this Zabrian outpost place.
I tucked my comms tablet back into my pocket. This was the only lift in the building, and even if that big guy took the stairs five at a time I knew I’d beat him to the bottom. But I still had to move quickly. I’d go straight to the New Toronto shuttle bay with my ticket and get off-world tonight.
I caught another glimpse of myself in the doors’ reflection and grimaced. I didn’t have a bag. Or money. Or even a change of clothes to get rid of my oil-streaked factory uniform.
But I had Mama’s pan.
A ticket.
A chance.
And if I had to marry some unknown alien to make good on that chance, well…
The grey, choppy surface of Lake New Nipissing flashed, cold and unwelcome, in my brain.
Well, it certainly beat the alternative.
4CHERRY
To my utter (and grateful) astonishment, not only was my ticket to Elora Station paid for, but also a stay in a small-but-tidy room. Though I still didn’t have any fresh clothes to change into, or enough money to buy a whole new outfit, I was at least able to have a hot shower and lay down in a clean bed.
Not that I slept. Not a damn wink. Nerves ate up my belly as I alternated between worrying about Magnus’ men finding me here and worrying about how tomorrow would go. I was to report to a human-Zabrian liaison office at 9am station-time for orientation and more details on the program. According to the data pamphlet that had downloaded itself onto my comms tablet, I’d get more information on the ranching outpost world and Zabrian culture so that I would be able to make an informed decision on whether to go or not.
But in my heart, I already knew what I’d do. I was leaving this fucking station as soon as my Zabrian husband would have me.
Of course, I’d have to live with him. Be his partner.
And sleep with him.
I shivered and drew the covers tighter around myself. I hadn’t slept beside anybody else except Mama, whom I’d shared a bed with in our tiny one-bedroom apartment.
I’d had sex before, but only with human men on Terratribe I. I’d seen more alien males on my walk through Elora Station to these temporary sleeping quarters than I’d seen in my entire twenty-six years of life. I cast my mind’s eye back over the various beings in the crowds and wondered if there was any one of those species that I would be wholly and utterly incapable of having sex with. There had been some distinctly beetle-looking bipeds and the thought of getting naked with one of them made my stomach clench queasily. But I was not in the position to be picky, here.
I’d marry a beetle man if I had to. Hell, maybe I would be the weird one to him.
Although the Zabrian Empire was recruiting human women for this bride program, so we humans couldn’t be too unattractive to them. Hopefully.
The last thing I wanted was for my future husband to get one look at me and flat-out change his mind and send me back. I’d have to be on my best behaviour. Make sure I won him over so that he wanted to keep me even if he thought I was less than appealing.
With these sorts of thoughts on my mind, I tossed and turned until my alarm went off at 8am station-time. I grimaced as I pulled on yesterday’s uniform, shaking my head at myself in the mirror. I guessed I didn’t have to worry about my husband rejecting me if I didn’t even get through the recruitment process. Knowing my clothing was not particularly presentable, I spent extra time trying to tame my wavy brown hair, smoothing it back into a halfway-decent braid. Once my teeth and face were clean, I figured that was as good as it was gonna get, and I headed out the door.
Terratribe I had its crowds, especially during break times or shift changes at the factory, but it never felt like this. Back home, there was always a grey drudgery attached to movement in large groups, all of us trudging off to complete our work or to get home and sleep a bit before we did it all over again the next day. But here, people moved with a happy, fizzing sort of energy, many of them with smiles on their faces. Sweet-smelling drinks were carried and shiny shopping bags dangled from claws and fingers and tentacles. And the crazy thing was that this wasn’t even as busy as Elora Station got. Elora Station followed the Old-Earth calendar system, which meant it was currently June here. From what I’d heard, this place really got popping during the Old-Earth Christmas season.
It was probably good I was here during the off-season, because even now I was overwhelmed by the sounds and the smells and the colours. Absurdly, I wished I’d brought my pan out from the bedroom of my station sleeping quarters, even though I rationally knew I’d look completely insane in my dirty uniform carrying around a massive, heavy pan caked with blood I hadn’t even scrubbed off yet. I’ll have to do that as soon as I get my hands on a sponge or a scrub brush and some oil for re-seasoning.
I moved from the outer edge of this circular floor of Elora Station to the centre where shining orbs zipped up and down in a vast column, shimmering lifts that put the creaky Terratribe I elevators to shame. I got one all to myself and spent so long gawking at how quickly the floors flashed past outside that I ended up getting off on the wrong level.
I would have turned right back around and gotten back in my zippy little orb, if it weren’t for the richest coffee-smell to have ever graced my nostrils taunting me from a small shop ahead. Deciding that I had enough time (and enough credits, barely) for a drink, I hustled through the crowds of humans and non-humans alike to the shop.
It was more like a kiosk, just a tiny counter with an opening above it. I stepped up to the counter and was greeted by a pretty human woman with shiny black hair and a name tag that read Sophie. She looked slightly familiar, as if I’d seen her before on Terratribe I. But I was probably just imagining it.
“Good morning! What can I get for you?” she said, her smile so cute that I couldn’t help smiling back.
“Coffee, please,” I told her. “Whatever’s quickest, I guess,” I added, casting my eye over a long and slightly intimidating menu.
“Got it. A black Americano, X!” she said, turning slightly. I jolted, noticing the hulking alien male in the shadows behind her, working the espresso machine. He was truly ginormous, two heads taller than Sophie, his bulky shoulders nearly busting the seams of his tight white dress shirt. Two great black horns curved out of the top of his head, and his yellow eyes burned like acid above a terrifyingly fangy snout.
I’d never seen one before, but I was pretty sure I knew what he was: a chimera. One of the Galkor Empire’s genetically modified super soldiers. A mutated monster literally built for fighting. What the hell he was doing in this tiny shop pouring coffees was anyone’s damn guess. I was even more surprised and confused when, as he passed the small cup over to the counter, what looked like a wedding ring glinted on his hand.
Sophie gave him a winsome smile and patted his bulging forearm.
She had a wedding ring, too.
Holy shit. That’s her husband?!
I spent so long looking at the curiously mismatched pair – short and tall, human and alien, smiley and growly – that Sophie had to lift the cup up into my eyeline to get my attention.
“Sorry!” I said, feeling heat creep into my cheeks. “Thank you!”
If Sophie noticed my gaping, she was generous enough not to mention it. Maybe she was used to it. A chimera holed up in a human-run station like this was bound to draw attention. Especially if he’d married one of us.
But, oddly, it made me feel a bit better about what I was about to do. Sophie looked happy with her alien husband. And X… Well, I doubted it was even possible for him to look happy with that frowny sort of snout. But as I backed away from the counter, moving to the side to make room for the next customer, I saw his heavy, dark green tail lift and gently stroke the small of Sophie’s back. Just once; impossibly gentle.
I felt stupid about it, and I blinked them away as quickly as they came, but tears actually sprang to my eyes in that moment. Tears of relief and hope and some kind of sentimental awe at the wholesome cuteness of the couple working together at this beautiful, quaint little shop.
A beautiful, quaint little shop with the best goddamn coffee I’d ever tasted to boot. Since it was only a small coffee, it was gone in an instant. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, trying to savour the depth of the flavour before it disappeared. Jittery with nerves and caffeine, I hurried back into one of the orb lifts in the centre of the station.
My coffee run had put me a little behind schedule, so when I finally reached the quieter, less bustling floor where the office I was supposed to visit was located, it was already a couple of minutes after 9am. I raced around the circular floor, almost running right past the non-descript little office. The only reason I slowed down at all was because something pink inside had caught my eye. As I skidded to an awkward stop, my factory boots squeaking on the immaculately clean floor, I realized the pink thing I’d just seen was somebody’s hair, seen through the clear glass of a window.
There were two human women inside the small, bright office, both of them now looking my way. I cleared my throat and wiped my hands on my dirty pants, aware of just how bad I probably looked compared to them as I stepped inside.
Both women were standing, and once again my eye went straight to that pink hair. I’d never seen hair that colour, at least not on Terratribe I. I wasn’t sure I’d ever even seen pink that pretty at all, let alone on somebody’s head. It was shiny and pale, flowing in satin-soft waves over the tall woman’s shoulders. She wore a crisp white pantsuit. Green eyes flashed from a freckled face as she nodded a coolly silent greeting at me.
The other woman was much more welcoming.
“Hey there. I’m Magnolia,” she said with a shy smile. Magnolia was wearing white as well, a strappy sundress that contrasted with the smooth richness of her brown skin. I smiled back at her and tried not to feel too grimy in my uniform.
“Cherry,” I said, holding out my hand to shake human-style.
“Cherry!” Magnolia repeated, her brown eyes widening slightly. “Like, the fruit?”
“Yes,” I said with a laugh. “Most people don’t know that! At least, not on Terratribe I.”
She smiled again, wider this time, showing an adorable gap between her front teeth.
“I’m from Terratribe II,” she explained. “Cherries galore over there. And magnolias. That’s a type of flower.”
“Fruits and flowers. We go well together,” I said, deciding I liked her already. She shook my hand with a friendly firmness, tossing her thick, curly black hair – tied in two long braids – behind her shoulders when she let go.
“I’m Darcy,” the taller woman said. She narrowed her eyes at my outstretched hand but eventually did shake it.
“So I guess you guys are also here for this whole mail-order bride thing?” I asked. I meant it to come out sounding light-hearted, but my voice cracked, turning my words into squeaky staccato.
Darcy nodded once, and Magnolia looked like she was about to say something in agreement, but she was cut off by the sound of a door closing somewhere deeper in the office, followed by crisp, efficient footsteps. Another human woman appeared, her blonde hair tied neatly back.
“Welcome!” she said. “I’m your human-Zabrian liaison Tasha. I’m here to explain the new Zabrian bride program to you!”
She indicated chairs. Darcy, Magnolia, and I sat down as she launched into a memorized presentation about the Zabrian outpost. Apparently, it was a colony made up entirely of Zabrian males who occupied themselves with various ranching and farming endeavours.
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Magnolia whispered from beside me. She’d grown up on Terratribe II, so she likely knew a lot about farming. I knew diddly-freaking-squat about the topic, but I’d always been a hard worker and I was used to manual labour. I was sure I could figure it out.
“Why aren’t they recruiting Zabrian women?” That harsh-edged question came from Darcy, and frankly, it was a damn good one. One I hadn’t let myself look at head-on because too much thinking about it might make me want to back out. And backing out meant getting chopped up and chucked in a very cold lake.
A pinch appeared between Tasha’s pale brows.
“That actually has not been made entirely clear,” she admitted. “The Zabrian people do have a fairly rigid honour and caste system. It’s possible that Zabrian females aren’t interested, or aren’t allowed by their families, to journey to this remote outpost planet to marry the men there.”
We all absorbed this. Something felt a bit wrong with that answer, but what the hell did I know about Zabrian culture? Tasha didn’t look like she was lying.
“I couldn’t find an image of a Zabrian on my comms tablet. Will we get to know what they look like?” Magnolia asked. “Not that it… I mean, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. As long as he’s kind and respectful and everything…”
Tasha nodded firmly.
“Oh, yes. We have been assured in the strongest possible terms that no mistreatment of you will be tolerated. Each province on the Zabrian outpost has a warden-”
“Warden?” I repeated, catching on the odd word.
Tasha waved away my concern. “I think it’s just an awkward translation from Zabrian. The warden is basically a government official, representing the authority of the Empire on the outpost planet. If you participate in the program, you will travel first to his office, and from there you’ll meet your husbands. Warden Tenn will be your point of contact if anything is amiss with your Zabrian husband.”
I nodded. That was good, I guessed. We wouldn’t be entirely on our own out there.
“And no, I’m sorry,” she said, turning back to Magnolia. “I don’t have any images of a Zabrian male. They are rather notorious for not submitting their information to the wider universal databases, and trade with them is limited, though there may be one or two on Elora Station right now. But I have spoken via video call with Warden Tenn, and I can tell you that they are humanoid. Two arms, two legs, a prehensile tail. I’m not sure if the colouring varies between them, but Warden Tenn had violet-coloured skin and long white hair. He wore a wide-brimmed hat that cast a lot of his face in shadow, but he wasn’t bad looking. I’d say he was rather striking, in fact. Very strong jaw. Extremely tall.”
She paused, her gaze looking far-off, before she shook her head and brought herself back into the present moment with visible effort. “Anyway. If you step out of the shuttle, take a look at your husband-to-be, and decide you don’t want to go through with it, that is acceptable.”
“And kind of mean,” Magnolia murmured to herself.
“Once you are married, though,” Tasha continued, “you will be expected to remain on the planet with your husband for at least one full month, barring any serious issues or abuse, of course. After that month, if you are not happy with the arrangement, you will be allowed to return to Elora Station. Warden Tenn will send me an update when you travel there next month to ensure everything goes smoothly.”
“Hold on,” I said, sitting up straighter in my chair. “Did you say next month?” It was only halfway through June station-time. That meant at least two more weeks of being on Elora Station, waiting for Magnus’ men to show up and stomp my sorry ass. “Can’t we go any sooner?”
Tasha raised her eyebrows at me.
“I suppose that means you’re accepting the terms of the program?”
“Yes!” I said impatiently. I tried to quiet myself, to not sound quite so desperate, as Darcy gave me a suspicious look and Tasha cocked her head. “But I’m just… eager! To get started. And meet my husband. Is there any way to go sooner than that?”
Infuriatingly, Tasha shook her head.
“Everything has been arranged for next month,” she said, not unkindly. “I’m glad you’re so enthusiastic about the program, though!” She smiled at Magnolia, who smiled back, and Darcy, who didn’t. “Have you two decided if you’d like to proceed to the next stage?”
Magnolia hesitated for a moment, then appeared to steel herself and nodded firmly. “Yes. I’m in,” she said.
Darcy sighed. “Me, too.”
“Wonderful!” Tasha said, looking relieved in a startled sort of way, like she hadn’t expected this to be quite so easy. I eyed Magnolia, then Darcy, wondering what drove them to agree to participate in this program.
Were they running from something just like I was?
“Well, if we’re all decided,” Tasha went on, beaming and nodding, “we can move on to the next stage!”
5CHERRY
The “next stage” lasted three days and consisted of medical exams, vaccinations, and updates to our inner-ear translators. Mercifully (and rather humiliatingly) Tasha noticed after the second day that I was still wearing the same grubby factory uniform and arranged for me to receive a couple of plain but comfortable outfits of leggings, tops, underthings, and pyjamas.
“You’ll be provided with more clothing to bring to the planet,” she told all three of us. “The environment there can be quite hostile. It gets cold at night even during summer. You’ll need jackets, hats, sunglasses, and sturdy boots.”
At least I had the boots part covered.
After all the medical stuff got cleared, we received our Zabrian landing papers. Shockingly, the documents weren’t digital, but on a shiny, silver sort of paper.
“Don’t lose these,” Tasha told us sternly, pointing a slender finger at the intricate symbol stamped at the bottom. “That’s the Zabrian Imperial Seal. The indentation is inlaid with a case-sensitive energy signature that cannot be forged.”
“What’s this other thing?” I asked, noticing a far less impressive-looking white card behind the silver Zabrian document.
“Oh, I printed those off,” Tasha said as all three of us examined our cards. “Those are the names of your future husbands.”
I inhaled shakily, running my eyes over the letters. I couldn’t read Zabrian, which was the first line of text at the top. But it had been re-written in letters I could understand directly below.
“Silar,” I said, an odd sort of numbness spreading outward through my chest.
“Not sill. It’s like sigh,” Tasha corrected. “SIGH-lahr. Magnolia, you’ve got Oaken. Darcy, yours is Fallon.”
Magnolia looked pleased, nodding and gazing down at her card. Darcy shoved hers in behind her silver paper without looking at it again.
After receiving our papers and being released for the day, I refused Magnolia’s invitation to join her and Darcy for dinner the way I’d done every night so far. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to hang out with them – I did. I was beyond curious to know why they were shipping themselves off to marry an alien they’d never met.
But I just couldn’t stand letting my guard down. I didn’t want to be chatting and laughing with them out in the open at some cafeteria while Magnus’ men might be trawling the station for me. The Zabrian Empire had given me a small stipend while here, and I spent almost all of it on food I got delivered directly to my sleeping quarters.
Before returning there, I completed my nightly security ritual. The ritual that had replaced the lock, deadbolt, and chair system back home.
I went down to the shuttle bay to watch the docking announcements.
So far, I hadn’t seen any other shuttles from Terratribe I listed as arriving.
Until now.
My blood went icy, then suddenly sped up in my veins. A small Terratribe I vessel flashed as an incoming arrival across the screen. I tried not to panic, telling myself it could be any old innocent ship coming to dock.
But would any vessel besides that of a crime lord’s goons be named Black Hole Bitch?
Yeah. I didn’t think so.
Fighting panic, I stumbled away from the docking arrivals and departures screen as if it had burned me, even though it was well overhead, bleating out its messages near the towering metal beams of the ceiling. I moved as if in a dream – or nightmare – through throngs of new arrivals to the station, letting the noise of the human and alien crowds swallow me in a comforting swarm that I hoped could keep me hidden. My heart beat so loud I almost worried it could be heard above everything else.
Furtively, I scurried towards one of the lift orbs, scooting inside and directing it to the floor that held my sleeping quarters. As it zoomed upwards through the cylindrical core of the station, restaurants and shops and trading posts flashing past, I tried to quell my fear and make a plan. I was suddenly reminded of being in another lift, clutching at a bloodied pan, trying to make plans then, too.
Nothing has fucking changed. New place, same problems.
But this lift was faster than the one back home which meant there was less time to think, plus there was no colourful advertisement inside to give me sudden inspiration on what the hell I should do. After getting off the lift, I let myself into my quarters, locking the door behind me.
But I didn’t feel any better. No, now I just felt trapped. And if Magnus’ men had any contacts among the staff of the station (which they probably did) then it wouldn’t be long before they knew exactly which room was mine.
OK, Cherry. You can’t stay here.
What, then? Go to Tasha and tell her everything?
No. That could put her in danger. And with all my baggage, she might decide I was too much risk to the Zabrian outpost planet and cut me out of the program. I could go to Elora Station security, but that still ran the risk of Tasha finding out about my situation and branding me too dangerous and stupid a human to be allowed to marry a Zabrian.
Like a brainless factory machine, my body moved without my mind telling it to.
I started to pack.
I’d used my stipend from the Zabrian Empire to purchase a bag to fit my new clothes and some toiletries inside. I tossed everything I owned in all willy nilly, not worrying about wrinkles or folding. The only thing I placed with any real care was my Zabrian landing papers, trying not to crease or tear the document in my haste.
Last came the pan, recently scrubbed clean of any lingering traces of blood. I shoved it in, gritting my teeth as I closed the bag’s zipper. The pan really wasn’t meant to fit in here. But I wasn’t about to leave it behind and I certainly wasn’t going to traipse around the station swinging it with a big smile on my face. With my luck I’d run right into the guy whose nose I’d crushed with it. Might as well put a holographic sign with an arrow above my head flashing, Here she is – the girl who smashed your fucking face in!
Hoisting my bag, made heavy by the pan and strained at its seams, I settled the strap over my shoulder. At the last second, I yanked the zipper open a tiny bit, reaching into the small opening with my forefinger and thumb to fish out a scarf I’d been using to wrap around my hair during sleep. I’d bought it on the station, and it had been a spontaneous decision at the time. With my meager stipend it was a bit of luxury I couldn’t actually afford, the long ribbon of it made from fine Hadorian silk, but I hadn’t been able to refuse it when I’d seen the colour. Cherry red, Mama would have called it. I’d never actually seen a real cherry on Terratribe I. I’d meant to seek out cherries, or at least something cherry-flavoured on Elora Station, but I’d been a little busy with the whole marry-an-alien-to-avoid-getting-murdered thing.
Oh well. I had the scarf, at least. Although I was now starting to regret that beautiful, eye-catching red as I covered my hair and the lower half of my face with it.
I went to the door of my apartment, cast one last look around the place that had been my temporary safe haven here, then left.
My bag bounced heavily against my side, the straps digging into my shoulder, but I barely noticed as I jogged out of the block of apartments and into the main ring of this floor. My eyes snapped back and forth, scanning the crowds for humans who looked like they were on a kill-Cherry mission. There were a lot of humans, though. No chance to actually look at all of them. So I prioritized speed over caution, running to grab one of the shiny round lifts. I took it back to the docking bay floor, theorizing that if the Black Hole Bitch had docked then the human occupants would have already deboarded and would currently be going through Elora Station’s decontamination procedures. That would buy me a little time.
On the docking bay floor, I couldn’t actually see most of the vessels aboard the station, because the majority of them were behind complicated sets of airlocks, closer to the cold bite of outer space than they were to the interior of Elora Station. Most people had to journey to and from their shuttles through sealed tunnels and then inner hallways before they reached the decontamination zone. Here, in this inner area accessible to the main interior of Elora Station, only the smallest vessels were visible. None of them appeared human-made in design, but a glance at the board with its bright letters confirmed that the Black Hole Bitch had indeed docked.
They were here.
Which meant I needed to not be here.
I gripped the straps of my bag with sweaty hands, hot and panting and dying to rip the scarf away from my face but too afraid to actually do it.
Now what?
Now fucking what?
Trying to keep myself from falling into entirely mindless panic, I let my gaze run over the announcement board again. I had no idea what I was searching for – I don’t think I even was looking for something specific – but when I saw Zabria Prinar One in bold, bright letters beside the name of a Zabrian shuttle I knew I’d found it.
There was a small supply shuttle leaving for the Zabrian outpost planet. In six minutes.
It must have been a small vessel, because it was listed as docked in this main bay. I sprinted to the nearest set of stairs, hustling down to the bay floor, all the while wishing furiously inside my own head that they’d have the room – and the willingness – to take me.
My boots slapped against the shining metal of the docking bay floor. There weren’t too many people, human or alien, down here now. Just a few mechanics and pilots here and there, tools and scanners and lasers gripped in appendages of various colours and shapes. I ran past them all, hoping that nobody found my behaviour suspicious enough to warrant a call to station security.
I barely noticed the small, bullet-shaped Zabrian vessel, already loaded onto its dolly bot in preparation for its rolling journey through the airlock mechanisms. It was only when an absolutely massive bipedal alien unfolded itself from some hidden place beside the ship and straightened up almost directly in my path did I come to a shaky stop to take a breath and a better look.
No, not unfolded itself. Himself.
The male absolutely towered at well over seven feet, his broad shoulders taut beneath a silver uniform the same colour as my Zabrian landing papers. The Zabrian seal was outlined in white on his chest, and again on a metal badge on a wide-brimmed white hat. The shape of the hat reminded me of something, but I couldn’t figure out what, and really, did that matter right now?
“You’re-! This is-!” I ripped the scarf away from my mouth and took ragged breaths. My tongue tasted of metal and dust, sticking to the roof of my mouth. “You’re going to Zabria Prinar One?”
The massive male, who hadn’t noticed me until this moment, tensed and turned my way. I jolted and swallowed hard, coming face-to-face for the first time with a male like the one I was supposed to marry.
As far as faces went, it was an intimidating one. Striking, Tasha had called Warden Tenn. Well, I certainly found myself struck by this one. Maybe even stricken.
His face was cut in all hard planes and harsh angles, his jaw wide and firm. His smooth hide was the colour of fresh human blood. For a second, I would have sworn that his eyes were a bright, furious white, but I blinked and then they were dark, narrowed beneath heavy brows. Long black hair did nothing to soften the appearance of that rugged alien face set in its stony expression.
He didn’t greet me or answer my question.
Oh God. Well, he’s not the one I’m marrying, right? Maybe Silar will be friendlier…
I steadied myself and lifted my chin. If I couldn’t even converse with a Zabrian pilot, what hope did I have of winning over my Zabrian husband?
“Zabria Prinar One?” I said, putting on what I hoped was a winsome and not completely desperate-looking smile. “You’re going there? I’d like you to take me with you, please.”
His eyes narrowed even further.
“No outsiders on Prinar One,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. “And no females.”
“Actually, they’re trying to change that,” I replied, unzipping my bag and digging around until I found my landing papers. I fished them out and flapped them at him. “I’m supposed to be going there.”
He hesitated, but appeared at least somewhat curious when he saw the shiny silver of my papers. He took the package and held it in black claws. Then, with his long, whip-like crimson tail, he took out what I assumed was some sort of Zabrian comms tablet and scanned the seal.
“It’s legitimate,” he said after a long moment. He sounded surprised.
I smiled even wider. My cheeks burned.
“Yes! I’m one of the new outpost planet brides. And I… I just can’t wait to meet my husband! When I saw your ship was leaving now, I just thought to myself, ‘Well, Cherry, if that isn’t the best luck a Terratribe I girl could hope for then I don’t know what is!’ So I had to come down here and see if you’d take me early!”
I sounded so falsely sweet that my fucking teeth hurt. I was laying it on way too thick, but I was in too deep to stop now. Hopefully this pilot wasn’t familiar enough with humans to see how idiotically fake I looked and sounded.
