Alpha Star: Big Sky Alien Mail Order Brides #1 (Intergalactic Dating Agency): Intergalactic Dating Agency (4 page)

Not that it mattered. She’d had her chance to see the world. Now she was lucky she had any sight left at all. Her days of adventure were done.

But maybe just for a moment, it was fun to imagine what might have been. Maybe she could even wish it wasn’t a mistake.

Sin strode back to the small, earthbound cruiser the Intergalactic Dating Agency had loaned to him while he finalized the agreement with his would-be mate.

Except now she would
not
be.

He’d been so furious at Gre-Gre’s stubborn plan to control his future that he’d been almost perversely delighted to discover it wasn’t going to happen. He could send the writ for the unsettled solar system back to her in the empty carafe of coffee—forget the whole, wretched joke. But as he walked away from the contrary match who had triggered his profile, unease coiled tightly in his belly like a snag of tripwires.

He’d agreed to Gre-Gre’s blatant bribery for the sake of his crew, and that duty hadn’t changed at all. If anything, his inability to bring one small, weak, quarrelsome, Earther female to heel was evidence that his merc days commanding the
Sinner’s Prayer
were over.

He slowed his irate stride, gathering himself with steady breaths of the fresh planetary air. He could only pray that the habitable planets of his new solar system were half as pleasing as the lushly grassed clearing near the agency’s headquarters where his ship was hidden. If not for intergalactic protocols for closed planets, he might’ve been tempted to follow Honey’s advice and conquer this Earth, at least a profitable portion of it.

Pleasing and lush. That description applied as well to his would-
not
-be bride. He’d had an array of humanoid lovers, and a few outside the genus, and considered himself well versed in the pleasures of the universe. But Zoe Nazario…

Her name rolled through his mind, smooth as her dusky skin and rippled as her chin-length dark hair, like the liquid water coursing past their meeting place. H20L XXX liquid? was rare enough in the universe that no one would walk away from it.

But he had walked away from her. Whatever larf-licking incompetent at the agency had mistakenly put his profile into the hands of a pre-contact local would not be so lucky. A radioactive sludge of embarrassment and regret curdled inside him, and he reached for the cruiser door with more force than necessary. The fingers of his false hand smacked into the Intergalactic Dating Agency symbol etched on the door. The series of styled wavelengths representing brain activity expressing—allegedly—love in several humanoid species looked like purple mountains fading to the horizon. And his fist went right through it.

He swore and jerked back. The jagged metal sliced through regen skin, exposing the bare servos underneath. He swore harder at the jolt of pain. Of
course
the nerves had regrown already.

The door popped open, almost smacking him in the head, and Ivan peered through the opening. His silvery eyes were covered by thick lenses to protect his space-sensitive vision from the harsh light, but he’d insisted on piloting the cruiser and easily mastered the earthbound vehicle on the route between the remote agency grounds and the population center of Sunset Falls.

“The door is not voice- or proximity-controlled,” Ivan said as Sin slid into the seat beside him. “You have to use the door handle.” Then his nostrils flared and he canted his head toward Sin’s hand and froze. Delicate traceries of black bloomed under his pale skin. “Captain, you are bleeding.”

Since that was obvious, Sin didn’t reply. “Where’s Honey?”

“He expressed interest in replacing some supplies for the
Prayer
, particularly…food—” Ivan cleared his throat. “Captain, if you would see to your hand…”

Sin grunted. “I would not be particularly sweet right now.”

“It has been so long, I would take any—” Ivan cut himself off again with a harsh gulp under his breath.

Sin ripped a strip from the midsection of his shirt. The agency had provided them with schematics for appropriate local costuming, and he didn’t think the truncated chest covering was quite right. But if he didn’t want to get eaten by his vrykoly pilot, he needed to stop the bleeding until he could get to a med kit.

He wrapped his hand tight, hissing at the zap of outraged nerve endings. After another frozen moment, Ivan slowly reached out to help tie off the ends.

Sin jerked his chin in thanks, both for the assistance and not being savaged. He trusted the vrykoly pilot with his life, his crew, his ship, but he never forgot that if the lure of the void proved too much, he might be forced to send Ivan into that darkness first, before the big, quiet male took all the
Sinner’s Prayer
with him.

In the tense silence, he considered his options. They’d have to return to the IDA compound to inform the agency of their error. The agency scrambled the EM waves around Sunset Falls to hide their extraterrestrial presence from the technologically backward but highly suspicious Earthers, and the EM repulsors affected off-world visitors almost as badly so he couldn’t message them while inside the valley. But they needed to know how close they’d come to destroying their own cover.

Plus, he needed a new match if he was going to fulfill the expectations in the writ Gre-Gre had sent him. He didn’t like that she was forcing him, but angry as he was, he was also worried that she’d resorted to such tactics. She’d always been inordinately amused at how he ran wild, refusing to settle for the usual scraps left for the fifth son of a fourth son of an eighth son. He’d gone out and made his own way. Well, he’d gone out and stolen someone else’s ship in a crooked game of chance, but that counted as his own way. He knew Gre-Gre hadn’t exactly approved of his merc life, but she’d seemed to understand his need to break away.

So why the heavy-handed effort to bring him back?

Not that the minor mystery mattered when he needed a home for his people. He might’ve won them along with the ship, but now he owed them, for keeping him alive, for giving him a place. And since he knew better than most how it was to fight for leftovers, he always paid his debts.

He scowled. Now he owned the Intergalactic Dating Agency a new car door, but hells, they owed him a bride.

The door behind him swung open. “I told you we should’ve strafed this place from orbit,” Honey grumbled. Agitated heat rolled off his big body, raising the ambient temp in the cruiser several degrees.

Ivan twisted to look back at him. “What happened?”

“Ah, nothing.” Honey ran both hands through his red hair, shedding sparks that burned black specks on either side of him. Now Sin owed IDA a new cruiser seat. “Speaking of nothing,” the drakling continued, “where’s the bride?”

Ivan tilted his head curiously toward Sin, who realized the vrykoly had been dying to know too but had been too circumspect—or distracted by blood—to ask.

“The match was…not,” Sin growled. “Somehow my profile ended up in the wrong hands.”

“I think all these dirt females are wrong.” Honey crossed his arms over his chest. Before they’d left the
Prayer
, he’d declared himself too hot for a heavy covering and was clothed in an abbreviated sleeved shirt that displayed the sky runes on his biceps and shoulders. The dark crimson marks simmered with his restlessness. “Thank our Shining Lady of Perpetual Fire, there are infinite worlds out there.”

“But not all of them host IDA outposts,” Ivan pointed out. He turned his goggled gaze back to Sin. “Are you certain she wasn’t a match? All the data seemed to indicate she was right for you.”

“Sometimes you can do everything right,” Sin told them, “and it’s still a mistake.”

So the IDA representative told him, in fancier words, when they returned to the compound and he relayed the failed meeting.

“We vet our clients very carefully.” The rep tapped at its screen with three slender tentacles. “All potential brides, grooms, and others are screened for willingness, openness, and hopefulness—which are some of the most important characteristics of an intergalactic bride, groom, or other.”

And lack of squeamishness, Sin thought morosely, since those waving tentacles were making him a little spacesick. “Had nothing to do with hope or lack thereof,” he said. “She simply had no idea what I was talking about.”

The rep perked up, as much as its boneless, semi-bipedal structure would allow. “Perhaps your universal translator—”

“Was working fine,” Sin interrupted. “I checked.” Maybe
he
had been a little hopeful, thinking the confusion and annoyance in her gaze was only a technical glitch, that the shimmer of interest he’d first seen in her would catch first and spread like one of Honey’s incendiaries. He’d liked the feel of her focus, something he’d rarely experienced growing up when he’d been just one of a horde, or even later when he’d been just one of the hired in a gang of mercs. He felt like she’d really
seen
him.

And then sent him on his way.

“Zoe Nazario didn’t think I was out of this world,” Sin said. “She thought I was out of my mind.”

The tentacles writhed in agitation. “Zoe Nazario? That can’t be right. The data-cube was coded for…” More swiping at the console. “For…Delaney Nazario, who completed our intake process several solar revolutions ago.”

Sin frowned. “No, the data dump from the cube pulled info on Zoe. It had her image on file, which was how I recognized her at the meeting.”

Practically knotted now, the tentacles went flaccid. “The data-cubes are programmed to blank if they fall into the wrong hands. Somehow the programming must’ve been corrupted and reset itself for this other.”

Who had no idea what she was getting into. Sin breathed out harshly. “I have my own problems. One of which includes finding another bride. Give me a new match.”

“Our brides, grooms, and others are of superior quality, ready for adventure, but as I’m sure you’ve noticed, Sunset Falls is one of IDA’s smaller outposts. I’m sorry to say, Captain, we don’t have any other matches for you at this time.”

Sin aimed his slit-eyed stare in the general vicinity of where he guessed the rep’s visual receptors must be. “I thought I made it very clear to you that any bride would do.”

“Yes,” said the rep with a dismissive flick of one tentacle. “But we are more discerning than you.”

Strafing from orbit was sounding more appealing by the moment.

Sin pushed to his feet before he found himself burying his fake fingers in the vaguely slick exterior of the rep’s topmost tentacle and throttling it.

The tapping, swiping appendages paused. “Ah, Captain, did you happen to retrieve the data-cube from this unauthorized person?”

Frustration pinged in him, sharper than the regen nerves in his wounded hand. “You trying to hire me?” he growled. “If you are, I can promise you, when I identify a target, I do not miss.”
Unlike some others
was his unvoiced addendum. “But it won’t come cheap.”

The rep flushed with a greenish tinge. “No, no, Captain,” it said. “We shall deal with it ourselves, of course. But we can’t have a functional data-cube out of our possession.”

If anyone was going to possess Zoe Nazario…

In the seething silence, the rep said hurriedly, “Never mind. We’ll bring her in. If necessary, a bit of suggestive refocusing should convince her it was all a dream.”

Sin grimaced. He’d seen the effects of suggestive refocusing. The amount of pain and disturbance was directly proportionate to the skills of the operator, and based on what he’d seen of the local IDA, he suspected Zoe would come away from the experience remembering him hazily less as a dream and more of a nightmare. The thought rankled.

“She didn’t understand what we were talking about,” he said. “I’ll retrieve the cube. Leave her alone.” He glowered at the rep. “Meanwhile you find me another bride.”

Ignoring the rep’s harried call, he stalked out of the office and onto the grounds. This IDA outpost might not be competent, but it was big enough and remote enough for atmo-worthy ships or shuttles to make landfall, with the mountains and lake forming natural reflectors for the EM repulsor to guard their secrets.

And it was beautiful too. Most of the places he frequented since leaving his clan were already burning. For the first time, he tried to imagine the empty, terraformed planets in the system Gre-Gre had chosen for him. What would pleasant and lush look like there?

The little burst of interest startled him, and he wondered how much of it was the opportunity to see Zoe Nazario again.

He walked to the private, multi-roomed dwelling where he’d left Ivan—Honey had returned to the
Prayer
with the supplies he’d gathered in town—and several other crew members. He’d told Honey to schedule ground leave for the crew, though he was keeping them mostly confined to the ship and allowing them to visit only in staggered numbers, for security reasons. Security for the ship, but also for the planet. They’d been a long time in space. While he wanted them to unwind, he didn’t want them to unravel.

The vrykoly pilot looked up, squinting, from where he was fiddling with his utility device. He’d left off the protective eyewear while indoors. Even so, the light from the bright, young sun coming through the windows obviously pained him. Edgy whorls of black unfurled across his pale cheeks.