Chapter Three

Sunny

 

I slapped on a smile and looked directly into the camera. “Tomorrow the SS Deception will land, and my fellow passengers and I will meet the Dakonians! It’s been a long journey—we’ve been aboard the ship for almost three months. I’m excited and ready for the next stage of my life. I can’t wait to get my first glimpse of my alien mate!” I finished on a high note and gave a little bounce to fake enthusiasm.

With a hundred passengers, plus crew, it was hard to get a moment alone, and my contract required me to do a daily “confessional.” When I’d happened upon a vacant lounge, I’d slipped inside, and the cambot followed me.

Before I got wise to Apogee’s tricks, I used to obsess over every comment, worrying how it would play with the viewing audience. When the first season aired on the ’net, I discovered parsing every utterance a waste of brainpower. What I said didn’t matter because the producers would put in my mouth the words they wanted. In the industry, frankenbiting involved splicing pieces of conversation to create a sound bite never actually uttered.

On one wilderness trek adventure, the guide had acted like a pompous ass—but I held my tongue and never said so. What I had said was, “I hate flying insects and could live the rest of my life without ever seeing one,” and, “Marco is an experienced guide. He might be tough, but it’s important to follow him.”

When the episode aired, the voiceover frankenbite had me saying, “I hate Marco and could live the rest life without ever seeing him.”

Producers also coached me how to act and react, what to emote, what to hold back.

For this alien-marriage escapade, I’d been told to act excited enough for it to seem credible that I would do something as crazy as this—but emote enough wariness to create drama.

I said to the camera, “I have to admit—I’m a little nervous about meeting my alien mate, but I’m prepared to see it through, despite whatever cultural differences arise.”

Nervous didn’t begin to cover it, and this was just for show! I couldn’t imagine marrying a horned dude from another planet for real.

I would have done anything for Devon, and I can’t understate the relief that he would receive the critical medical care he needed. But, along with a year’s worth of clothes and toiletries, I’d packed a load of resentment. I felt coerced by Apogee. While I was getting something I desperately wanted—help for my nephew—in truth, my contract hadn’t allowed any choice in the matter.

I had to give Chantelle credit, though. She’d done her part and renegotiated with Apogee Productions to advance me the bonus. However, that meant there was no out. If I failed to follow through with the full one-year term, I would have to repay the money with interest. Another little clause had been added to my contract: I had to pretend I was marrying an alien for real and not for a lark like trekking through the alligator-infested swamp, working at a children’s pizza restaurant, or spending six weeks in military boot camp.

“Great meteor fireballs. Sunny Weathers!” a woman squealed.

The winged cambot zipped out of sight as a brunette bounded into the lounge. “It is you, right? Sunny Weathers from Sunny Weathers’ Excellent Adventures? I love your show. I never miss an episode. It’s you, right? Tell me it’s you.”

“It’s me,” I said.

“Really?”

“Really,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“Gretchen. Gretchen Frankel.” She widened her eyes. “Are you filming now? Is this an episode for the show?” She swept her gaze around the lounge.

I scanned it, too. I had no idea where the cambot had flown off to, but I didn’t doubt it was recording everything. I smiled at Gretchen. “No, marrying an alien is for real.”

She frowned. “But all the shows are real, right? I mean, it’s a reality show.”

The naiveté of the viewing public never ceased to surprise me. The only “real” aspect was that instead of employing professional actors, they filmed “ordinary” people who worked without a written script. That didn’t mean the show wasn’t staged. We were coached. Producers overdramatized small disagreements to make them appear much more serious. Scenes were reshot if there wasn’t enough conflict or angst, comments in confessionals were often taken out of context, and don’t get me started on the frankenbiting.

“I meant I’m on hiatus. I love being on the show, but it doesn’t leave me a lot of time for a love life. I figured this is my best chance for a relationship. I’m doing this for me.” Apogee didn’t want any hint my intentions were disingenuous, so I’d been instructed to say I was between seasons.

“How will it work in the long term? If you’re on Dakon, and your job is back on Earth…” Gretchen was a little sharper than her earlier comment had led me to assume.

Let the producers mull that over. Hey, I didn’t say it—she did. Apogee would want to begin shaping the story as soon as possible, so most likely the cambot transmitted live feed. How fast it would get to Earth, I didn’t know. Would there be a three-month-lag time like the length of our journey? Or was the cambot FTL programmed, allowing the signal to travel faster than light?

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” I said. “But, tell me about you. What are you looking for?”

Her smile turned wistful. “I hope he’s nice, desires me for me, and wants a commitment and a family.”

“That would be wonderful.” A pang of longing shot through me. Having a committed partner seemed so far out of reach, I’d never dared to hope for it. The show controlled my life. I was responsible for the financial and emotional support of my sister and Devon—and her situation had proven how fickle and unreliable Earth men were. My nephew’s father hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out he had a son, let alone how ill he was.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Gretchen said. “What if he’s disappointed? What if wants to send me back to Earth?”

“I’m sure that won’t happen. He’s going to love you. You’re attractive, you have a beautiful smile, and you’re friendly and approachable.” We’d just met, but I did my best to come up with positive attributes and reassure her.

“You think so?” Her face brightened.

“Absolutely!” The die had been cast; there was nothing she could do about it anyway.

Except, her doubts caused me to worry. It hadn’t crossed my mind the aliens might reject me. I wasn’t conceited; it wasn’t that I believed I was so wonderful a man couldn’t help but fall for me, it was just—and maybe this was worse than conceit—I wasn’t looking for love, so their opinions didn’t matter. And, I guess I thought like everyone else. Dakon males were supposed to be desperate for females, so I’d assumed they’d take whatever they could get.

If they disliked me, that would create the conflict my producers wanted. Poor, hopeful star-crossed Sunny travels across the galaxy to meet an alien, and he hates her. The producers and the audience would eat it up. However, if he disliked me so much he rejected me outright and sent me back to Earth, I’d have to refund the bonus, and Devon wouldn’t get a new heart.

Thanks, Gretchen, for giving me something else to worry about. “I’m in the same boat, er, ship, you are. They might not like me, either,” I said.

Gretchen shook her head. “Oh, no. I can’t imagine that. You’re Sunny Weathers! You’ve got your own vid-show! You’re kind and nice, and beautiful. Like a regular person—only famous! When they find out who you are, all the men will want you.”

Oh no. That couldn’t happen. I doubted the aliens would be starstruck if they discovered I was famous. From what I’d heard, they didn’t have the technology to watch vids. However, if they got an inkling my intentions were disingenuous, Apogee wouldn’t be happy. “I would prefer the Dakonians didn’t know I’m a reality-show star. It’s like you said. I want my mate to desire me for me.”

Another pang shot through me. I did want that. But it was impossible…

“Mum’s the word! I won’t say anything.” She mimicked locking her lips and throwing away the key. “And if anyone else recognizes you, I’ll let them know you want to be incognito.”

“Thank you, Gretchen, you’re the best. I’d be really grateful,” I said, uttering the first sincere and truthful comment since the conversation started. I hated Sunny Weathers’ Excellent Adventures, hated the way it led me to lie. It would force me to mislead a Dakonian who was probably a very nice alien deserving of a woman who could care for him.

* * * *

I crowded with the other women to peer through the observation glass as the SS Deception landed. The ship’s landing thrusters had stirred up a blizzard that obliterated the view, but before that had happened, I’d caught a glimpse of a stone structure with smoke spiraling from the roof, ringed by a hamlet of smaller structures. Were all the villages this small?

“Looks cold out there,” Gretchen said.

“Perfect for snuggling up in front of a fire with our new mates,” another woman said.

“In kel hides?” another joked.

“Do they still use those?” someone else asked. “I thought they gave those up.”

“They still use them. Earth has sent equipment and supplies, but there’s not enough to go around, and they still prefer their animal skins. That’s what I read, anyway, in Starr’s diary,” Gretchen said.

“Starr’s diary?” I looked at her.

“Starr Conner’s blog. She’s a celebrity like y—” Gretchen winced. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Starr is one of the original women who came to Dakon, sent when Terra was shipping off female felons. She had been convicted of murdering mobster Jaxon Carmichael but was later exonerated.”

“Oh yeah. I remember.” The case had dominated news coverage for months.

“Now, she writes a galactic blog that’s beamed to Terra. I read it before I left.”

“Dakon has ’net access?” I’d be able to keep in touch with Stormy and find out how Devon was doing.

Gretchen nodded. “A woman named Andrea Simmons runs the ’net setup. She’s a friend of Starr’s.”

I needed to meet Andrea.

The snow had begun to settle, and the village came into view again. It looked…primitive.

“Ladies? Ladies, can I have your attention, please?” A deep masculine voice cut through the higher-pitched feminine chatter, but my fellow passengers continued talking and pointing out the observation window.

“Ladies, please!” Polite words snapped in an irritated tone. Men were not used to being ignored.

Exchange program coordinator Madison Altman should be the poster child for the Terran-Dakon Exchange Program. Don’t settle for this, ladies, when you could have an alien.

He showed all the signs of suffering from a superiority complex: puffed out chest, a semi-permanent smirk, an upward-tilted chin, and a perpetually bored expression. Women were so desperate for male companionship, they gave men anything and everything they wanted, and in the process had spoiled an entire gender. I eyed him and hoped one day he would meet his match, the woman who would take him down a peg or two—or twelve.

“Go to your cabins and put on your warm outdoor clothing. Robos are collecting your luggage now. Your bags will be unloaded and delivered to the reception area. When you’re done, line up in the disembarkation corridor. You’ll go as a group to the lodge, where your mates are waiting for—”

Squeals of excitement drowned out whatever else he tried to say, and with a dismissive gesture, he stalked out of the observation lounge. A cambot, hovering beneath the overhead lights, captured it all.

Let the adventure begin. What would the aliens look like? They lived on a planet stuck in an ice age. Would they be like cavemen, wearing furs and dragging clubs to beat their food to death? The smoke I’d seen indicated they’d at least discovered fire. And they could build things—they had constructed a little village. Sort of.

I touched the translator that had been implanted behind my ear yesterday. The spot was still a little sore. Did Dakonians grunt—“Food!” “Me, Cold!” “Woman!”—or did they have a fully developed language?

I’d find out soon.

“This is really happening!” Gretchen’s eyes danced.

Oh, yay. High kick. “We’d better get ready.”

“Let’s do it! Meet you in the disembarkation corridor.”

The cambot flew into my cabin despite my effort to slam it in the door. Tamra, my roomie, had already dressed and vacated the stateroom. She and I had gotten along well enough, but we’d never become friends. We operated on different schedules. I’d be leaving as she arrived, or she’d be out all night, drinking and dancing while I slept. You’d think being a “celebrity” would make me a party girl, but the opposite was true. My job required me to attend far too many events. My life sometimes seemed like a carnival of flashing lights and wild rides, so I preferred to veg in my downtime. The one good thing about being on a spaceship was that I’d gotten off the Tilt-A-Whirl.

The cambot circled. Over my clothes, I pulled on a coverall sewn in a lightweight material that reminded me of those plastic-y white polyethylene mailers. The tag guaranteed the “scientifically advanced” fiber would keep me warm down to temperatures of minus 40. Next, I slipped on my boots—rated for snow and ice—and some gloves. I peered at my reflection in the mirror and flashed a faux grin for the camera.

The show’s wardrobe department had provided the clothing, and I questioned white as a color choice for a planet covered by snow. What if I got buried in an avalanche or lost in a blizzard? I’d fade away amongst the white. How would they find me? On the other hand, if saber-toothed tigers prowled Dakon, camouflage could be beneficial.

I double-checked the carryall I’d packed with essentials and a few mementos I couldn’t live without. Madison had said our luggage would be transported for us, but I didn’t trust Apogee, so I’d set aside a small bag. I’d been dropped off in too many inhospitable places without the promised supplies. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and I pack my own luggage.

With my bag slung over my shoulder, I slipped into the passage, waiting half a beat before slamming the door, missing the cambot by a fraction. Almost got you! Hey, if the camera accidentally got crushed, it wouldn’t be my fault Apogee missed out on filming. Then I could be honest with the alien, relax, and in a year, I’d be free and clear of all contractual obligations, and Devon would be healthy and safe.

The camera flew backward, recording my march down the corridor. When other cabin doors opened, and more women entered the passage, it zipped upward to avoid detection. I doubt anyone would have noticed anyway. The women chattered and giggled with excitement, their focus on getting their first glimpse of the aliens. Their suits were similar to mine: that same fabric, except in vibrant colors.

“Sunny! Over here!” Tenth in line, Gretchen waved. In her neon-orange suit, she stood out like a beacon. There’d be no missing her in a snowstorm. “I saved you a place.” The camera zipped on ahead and fell into formation with a small fleet of other cambots. No wonder there had been a camera everywhere I went on the trip—there were a half dozen of the fat dragonfly buggers.

“Come on out, ladies! Let’s meet those mates!” Madison swept past us, and the hatch opened.

I discovered “scientifically advanced” meant crock of bull turds. The cold blast sliced through my suit like a sharpened icicle. I yanked the hood over my head.

“Mother of—” Madison’s curse turned the frosty air blue. “The lodge is across the field. Follow me. The sooner we get inside, the sooner you’ll be warm,” he shouted to be heard over the wind.

Your mates await, it seemed to howl.

I could have been naked for all the protection the suit offered. My eyes watered in the cold, and the tears froze on my face. I had to narrow my eyes to slits to see at all. It hurt to breathe. Madison never glanced back to check on us. He charged ahead, loping through thigh-high drifts. We barreled after him, slipping and sliding. I fell once and nearly got trampled. At my cry, Gretchen pulled me up and out of way.

“Fank ooo.” My lips were practically frozen.

“Anytime. Let’s go.”

With his longer legs and a head start, Madison reached the lodge first. The women broke out of single-file formation and stampeded across the field. As each one entered, a roar sounded from inside. “Obah! Obah!” A cheer rang out for every woman.

My eyes teared for reasons other than the cold. What would it be like to find my soul mate? To be loved? To be appreciated? Chivalry was dead on Terra. Madison hadn’t led us to the lodge—he’d raced balls to the wall to beat us to it. I hoped he’d frozen his nuts off.

My toes and fingers stung by the time I stumbled inside.

“Obah!”

The aliens stood on the other side of a fire snapping and crackling in a massive pit in the center of the gray stone lodge. I, and every other woman, gaped.

They were freakishly tall, like over seven feet, and the heavy fur coats they wore made them look even bigger. Swarthy skin was matched by dark, almost-black hair and eyes. Good-looking as all get-out. On Earth, any one of them could have had a successful career as a male model or a vid star—despite their horns. Or maybe because of them.

They were the cutest things. I’d been picturing a ram’s horn like in Devon’s drawing, but they were dark, leathery nubs. Right away, my gaze shot to one particular Dakonian, the handsomest one—and the most nervous. He fidgeted, a wooden chip in his hand, and kept shifting his gaze between us women and a scowling alien standing off to the side with arms folded.

The handsome one looked up, and our eyes met. I’d swear an electrical jolt shot through me. I even jumped. I’m a sucker for nice hair on a man, and he had a head of it. Thick and lustrous, it swept back from his broad forehead, showing off strong cheekbones, full lips, and a sturdy chin darkened by scruff. Did he shave? Or was he naturally scruffy? An unexpected heat curled in my belly, intensified by the longing in his expression. It sounds crazy, but I swear his horns swelled as we stared at each other.

One of the damned cambots swooped in front of my face. I guess it figured it wouldn’t be noticed in the commotion. I swatted at it, and it zipped away, but the moment with the alien had been broken. He’d dropped his gaze and turned away. The interference pissed me off, although it was probably for the best. I had to remain aloof, couldn’t allow myself to become attracted to an alien, or to allow one of them to become emotionally attached to me. They deserved mates whose intentions were as honest as their own. What I was doing wasn’t right. It didn’t matter I hadn’t had a choice, that Apogee had forced me—or that I had to do this for Devon. As much as possible, I had to avoid misleading my alien. Apogee would want me to cuddle up with him, but that wouldn’t be fair. I assumed Dakonians could fall in love; I didn’t want to leave any broken hearts behind.

A smiling alien stepped forward. “Welcome, females! I am Enoki, the head of the council of Dakon. These men”— he swept out an arm to encompass his comrades—“are your mates! We are so happy you have arrived!”

The men seconded his comment with a rousing cheer.

“Let me explain how the selection will work,” he said after the commotion had settled down.

“I can understand him!” Gretchen murmured next to me.

“The translators work better than the snowsuits,” I whispered back.

She giggled.

“The men drew numbered chits,” Enoki said, and I realized that’s what the handsome alien was holding in his hand. “Proceeding in numbered order, the men will approach you and ask you to be their mates. If he meets with your approval, you only need to accept. If he doesn’t, you may reject his proposal, and he will choose someone else.”

“May I make an announcement?” Madison spoke up. I’d forgotten all about his sorry ass.

“Certainly,” Enoki said.

“Ladies, your belongings are over there.” He pointed to a tower of luggage. “Be sure to collect your bags before you leave with your mates.” He gave a little salute. “Good luck!”

The head alien cleared his throat. “If we’re ready, we’ll begin selection…”