5. Cherry
5
CHERRY
T he “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.
“Look!” I said, tugging at my scarf and then gesturing to the exposed areas of skin on his big hands, tail, and face. “We even match! It must be a sign!”
I laughed, but it sounded more like a shaky gasp.
The pilot didn’t laugh back, instead glancing in perturbed confusion at the announcement board sign. “A sign to tell me what?”
“Ah… Never mind. Must be a human thing.” Well, I’d learned one new thing about Zabrian culture, at least. They didn’t seem to believe in things like fate or omens. “Anyway, I know you’re supposed to be leaving now. So if you’d kindly just show me aboard the ship…”
“Says here you’re to travel by special Imperial shuttle. Not by a tiny trader,” the pilot said, silencing me instantly.
Ah, shit.
I blew out a sigh, dropping all the smiley pretense.
“Look, I’m going to level with you,” I said. For some reason this made him look in confusion at the floor. “I need to get off this station tonight. Now, if at all possible. You’re going my way. Would you please, please just bring me along?”
Pretty fucking please with a human on top?
His face didn’t exactly soften, but he didn’t look quite as suspicious as he’d seemed before. His tail, flexible as rope but seemingly as strong as an arm, lifted his comms tablet up towards his face.
“Contact Warden Tenn,” he grunted.
I sucked in a breath, hoping that was a good sign.
It took a moment to connect, and I spent that time frantically scanning the docking bay for signs of Magnus’ men.
“Warden,” the pilot suddenly said, his voice dragging my attention back to his hulking form. “I’ve got a human female here. Part of some bride program no one told me about. She’s got papers.”
Even though I held my breath and strained my ears, I couldn’t hear the warden’s reply over the beating of my own heart.
“Tasha?” asked the pilot in response. “Blast if I know. I can’t read human. What’s your name?” He went from speaking to the warden to me so quickly that I almost didn’t realize he’d changed his subject of address.
“Cherry! Cherry Dawson. I swear I’m on the list,” I added somewhat helplessly.
He repeated my name back to his comms tablet. He listened for a moment, then growled an acknowledgement of whatever the warden said before sliding the tablet back into his uniform with his impressively prehensile tail.
“Well?” I asked, not bothering to try to keep the anxiety from bleeding into my voice. If he said no now, I was deader than dead. I’d probably have to-
“Still can’t believe they’re sending those boys brides,” the pilot muttered to himself.
And then he said, to me this time, “Get in.”