Lunar Bound (Galaxy Alien Mail Order Brides #9)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Planet of Zorveya

Luniaren moved silently through the shadows of the transport bay, recording his thoughts in the privacy of his mind where they would remain untainted by the opinions of others.

If this mission failed, which it would most assuredly do, he would not be blamed for it. He would not lose his ticket back home.

Personal Log, Pre-Departure:

This mission is a farce. A desperate ploy by a Peacemaker Council that has run out of rational options.

I have been ordered to participate in this Galaxy Alien Mail Order Brides experiment, as if finding a mate on a primitive planet could somehow prove that generations of conflict between the light and shadow zones of Zorveya are merely a misunderstanding that can be resolved with goodwill.

Let me be clear. I have no intention of mating with fleshy aliens. I find the possibility disgusting.

My opposition has been noted and ignored. The punishments for refusal have been made clear: exile, the stripping of my family's land holdings in the shadow territories, and the dismantling of our ancestral research facilities. I go not by choice but by coercion.

My traveling companions are no better than expected.

Solarestabinian, Solar Bound as they now insist on calling him, is the typical Solarus brute, all flash and fire with no subtlety.

He is the sole representative of the light-dwellers of our tidal locked planet.

And Eclipsyionic, Eclipse Bound, true to his twilight existence between dark and light, is forever balanced on the fence between our worlds, pretending neutrality while clearly favoring the light-dwellers with his policies.

At least he has the decency to appear as uncomfortable with this arrangement as I am.

They call me Lunar Bound, which is an insulting designation. The Earth people use a surname to designate family. I will never be family to a light-dweller.

The Galaxy Alien Mail Order Brides corporation's representatives, Gary and Bob, are incompetent to a degree that borders on criminal negligence.

Their ship appears to be cobbled together from spare parts, their knowledge of interspecies relations is superficial at best, and their understanding of our cultural conflicts is nonexistent.

Someone should investigate how they were selected for such a significant undertaking.

I predict disaster. But I will observe. I will adapt. And I will survive, as those of the shadow have always done.

A flash of golden light interrupted his thoughts as Solar strutted into the transport bay, trailing energy sparks like a careless child. Lunar retreated deeper into the darkness, his night-adapted eyes narrowing against the unwelcome brightness.

"Ah, lurking in the shadows as usual," Solar called out, his voice deliberately loud. "Come into the light, Lunar. It's good for the complexion."

Lunar didn't dignify the taunt with a response. Solar knew perfectly well that extended exposure to his level of light output was harmful to shadow-dwellers. It was a petty provocation, designed to establish dominance before their journey even began.

What Solar didn’t seem to realize was that deep space was dark. This ride would not be enjoyable for him. It might even be painful.

Lunar suppressed a smile at the thought.

Eclipse arrived next, his presence marking a balance between them as it always did. "Are you both prepared for departure?" he asked, placing his modest luggage beside the entry ramp.

"As prepared as one can be for a mission doomed to failure," Lunar replied quietly.

Solar scoffed. "For once, we agree. This is beneath my station as an Elite Guard. I should be overseeing the plasma cannon installations on the eastern border, not playing matchmaker on a backward planet."

"The council feels this diplomatic initiative has merit," Eclipse reminded them. "And our compliance is not optional."

"The council," Solar mimicked with a sneer, "hasn't set foot outside the Twilight Belt in generations. What do they know of the real tensions between our peoples?"

Lunar found himself in the uncomfortable position of sharing Solar's sentiment, if not his crude expression of it.

The Peacemaker Council, with their compromise solutions and moderate stances, understood neither the depth of the shadow-dwellers' grievances nor the extent of the light-bearers' aggression.

"The ship is prepared for boarding," Bob announced, appearing suddenly at the top of the ramp. His yellow skin looked sickly even to Lunar's eyes, and the ill-fitting uniform he wore did nothing to inspire confidence.

The Galaxy Bride crew consisted of three short, strange alien creatures with oversized heads and eyes.

Their energy signatures were all but nonexistent.

Logic said that a head that size would hold vast knowledge.

Lunar didn't think logic applied in this situation.

Their hosts' heads seemed to be filled with empty space.

"We're just finishing the final checks on the navigation systems," Bob continued.

"By we, you mean the trainee who didn't have the sense to keep out of the night bogs, don't you?" Solar asked, his light pulsing with suspicion.

"Harris is fully qualified," Bob assured them unconvincingly. "Mostly. He's completed nearly sixty percent of his certification."

Lunar exchanged a glance with Eclipse, whose expression mirrored his own concern.

"I've updated my final arrangements," Solar announced with theatrical gravity. "In the event of my death during this mission, my belongings are to be distributed among my siblings, with the exception of my ceremonial blade, which should be used to stab Bob repeatedly."

"Always with the jokes," Bob laughed nervously. "Come aboard, come aboard! We have a schedule to maintain."

They boarded the ship in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Lunar noted the shabby interior, the mismatched control panels, and the lingering smell of something burning. This vessel had seen better days, probably centuries ago.

"Your quarters are through here," Bob guided them to a small compartment with three narrow sleep platforms. "Cozy, isn't it?"

Solar immediately claimed the platform nearest the external wall, where a small porthole would allow him to absorb light during their journey. "I require this position," he declared, daring them to challenge him.

Lunar took the platform farthest from Solar's, in the darkest corner of the compartment. Eclipse, predictably, settled for the middle one with a resigned sigh.

“I will require something to block light,” Lunar stated, glancing at his glowing bunkmate.

"Excellent!" Bob clapped his hands together.

"Now, we've prepared information packets about Earth culture, mating rituals, and appropriate conversational topics.

You will have plenty of time to absorb the information during the flight.

Did you know humans consider discussion of bodily functions to be taboo in many social situations? Fascinating species."

"When do we see our potential mates?" Solar demanded. "I want to review my options."

"Oh, the matchmaking process happens on Earth," Bob explained. "Our new proprietary compatibility implants work best in proximity to the subjects. You'll be matched with females whose biorhythms complement your own unique energy signatures."

They did not need implants to tell them what they would know naturally. Matching energies was a science. Either they did or they didn't.

"And if no suitable matches are found?" Lunar asked, speaking the question that had been troubling him since this mission was announced.

Bob's smile faltered slightly. "Well, technically, the contract requires good-faith participation in the matching process for a minimum of one Earth month. After that, if no connections have been formed, we can discuss alternatives."

"Meaning we're stuck there for at least a month regardless," Solar concluded darkly.

"Think of it as a cultural exchange," Bob suggested brightly. "A chance to experience new customs, new foods, new social structures."

"I think of it as exile," Lunar said softly, though only Eclipse seemed to hear him.

The ship's engines rumbled to life, vibrating through the floor in a way that did not inspire confidence in their structural integrity. A voice that must belong to the trainee Harris crackled over the communication system.

"Preparing for departure. Please secure all personal items and fasten safety restraints."

Solar muttered something uncomplimentary about Harris' parentage as they made their way to the main cabin for takeoff. The chairs were mismatched, as if salvaged from different vessels, but they all appeared to have functional restraints.

As Lunar secured himself in the chair farthest from the viewports, he caught sight of the Peacemaker Council representatives watching from the observation deck.

Their grim expressions were solemn. Not the look of officials sending diplomats on a hopeful mission, but of jailers dispatching prisoners to a remote colony.

Lunar realized the council didn't expect them to succeed. They were removing them from the equation to prevent them from influencing the upcoming conflict.

The implications were troubling. If the council believed war was inevitable, this mission wasn't a peace initiative. It was a convenient way to eliminate three influential figures from opposing factions before hostilities began.

The engines roared louder, drowning out Bob's cheerful commentary about the wonders of interstellar travel. The ship shuddered as it lifted from the platform, lurching sideways in a manner that suggested Harris' nearly sixty percent of certification was being generously rounded up.

"Is this normal?" Solar demanded as the vessel banked sharply, sending loose items sliding across the floor.