Solara 5
I’ve sold my hovercar. As much as I enjoyed it, it’s just a thing. I’m on my way to something better, I hope.
After I step into the hibernation pod on the shuttle that will take me to the lunar base, I sink into a strange dreamworld of white primordial walls with swooping curves and gold trim. It is bright and warm.
For the first time in years, I feel safe. I don’t have to watch over my shoulder for thrown shoes and purses or monitor social and media feeds for trash talk.
I know this place.
Soldiers pass me in black and gold and white armor like they’re in a hurry to get somewhere. A red beacon flashes overhead. The alarm that screeches through the ship makes me stagger backward as I search for the source of the problem.
I bump into a wall. To my right, a screen flashes. I quickly look it over and tap through the windows to find out what’s going on. A compartment on a lower deck has depressurized. Myndrous symbols fill the rooms like they’re infiltrating the ship.
I fidget, hating the idea of confronting them.
A voice rumbles in my ear. “Solara.”
I know that tone, that warning, though it’s deeper than I remember. “Where are you?”
“Get out of here!” The voice becomes frantic. “I can’t hold them off forever!”
I use the ship’s computer to locate the signal even though I don’t really know what I’m doing. He’s at the bulkhead where the Myndrous are infiltrating. A window opens with the camera feed. He’s outnumbered and far outgunned.
There isn’t much I can do from here, and the idea of running into battle terrifies me. But I whip through the screens, searching for a system I can access. Life support lights up.
“Got you.” I isolate the chambers filled with Myndrous that don’t have symbols for other lifeforms inside, then I drain the oxygen. But the chamber next to the Isonian is already opening.
Finding an armory between my position and his, I dart down the hallway. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t know why. I can’t remember, but I know his name is right there…
Isonians saved my life. I owe them. It’s what drives me through my fear. I pick up a multi-round burst pulse rifle from a rack and sprint for the chamber around the bend and at the end of the hallway.
The Isonian soldier’s shield is lit up in fading blue hues, replaced more and more by his conjured golden power. He’s going to die if I don’t stop the Myndrous that hulk inside the hallway, augments gleaming with bold, colorful light. Their eyes find me, and my steps slow.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not ready to actually shoot someone. I never have before.
This is just a dream.
“But what if it isn’t?” someone asks, over the shipwide coms.
I look over at the soldier, hunkering down against Myndrous rifle fire.
He’s going to die.
He’s going to die.
He’s going to die.
I lift the rifle to my shoulder, try to lean into the blasts like my father taught me, and squeeze the trigger. The pulses thump out. Whomp-pop-pop-pop. I stagger back, spread my feet, and see more Myndrous enter. The soldier is pinned in a corner, unable to escape his destruction.
Narrowing my eyes to focus, I grip the rifle harder and dig my feet in. I’m tired of good people dying just because of another species’ greed. I pull the trigger.
I only watch the enemy long enough to know if they fall as I advance in the hallway until I’m at the Isonian’s side. “Go!”
His presence moves behind me like warm sun on my skin. “Solara.”
I glance at him, not ready to break my concentration. But the face I see makes me take a second look.
The walls darken to blue swirls and dark fog as I’m tugged backward and wake in my hibernation pod. My heart pounds in my chest. I blink and look up. Nurses free other women racers from their chambers.
It was just a dream. I calm myself with a deep breath. It’s nothing new to me to have such vivid nightmares. I just haven’t had any for a few months.
When my hatch unseals, I free my straps and hike out of my chamber, grab my backpack and surgical bag, then walk through the exit, across the bridge to the rotunda.
A nurse stops me inside, studying a tablet. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
“Most don’t come out of the chamber on their own.”
“Oh?”
She wears navy blue scrubs and a surprised smile. “Yeah. The doc wants two questions answered so we can band you correctly.”
“Okay.” I shift out of the center of the walkway.
“Why did you hesitate to shoot? You own a gun.”
“I don’t want to have to use it unless it’s necessary to save innocent life.”
“How do you know what is innocent?”
I draw in a deep breath. “In my line of work, whoever threatens life first is the attacker. I don’t care if it’s via a gun, by stealing life-saving medicine, or otherwise.
I believe in balance. But that does not mean that I take any thrill in harming others for the sake of saving a few.
But we have to draw the line somewhere, or the most violent and impulsive beings will rule. ”
“Why would that be a problem?” she asks. “It’s not me asking. The doc…”
“Because when beings blindly pillage for the sake of their beliefs, they do not possess the self-reflection and inquisition to engineer a better future once they are done with the rest of us. They will turn on each other, the different factions fighting each other to be the last until they ultimately kill each other off. So it’s not just for our benefit that we must stand in the way but for theirs too. But that’s just my point of view.”
“Interesting.”
“Of something I lived through.”
The nurse slowly lifts her head from the tablet. She studies me for a long moment.
“My father did medical outreach work on fringe planets. I stayed with him.”
Her tablet beeps, summoning her attention. “Ah, well, it says you get pearl bands. You’re welcome to pick them up now, change, and head into the lunch hall for the pre-race buffet.”
“Thanks.” At least I’m not a pink.
I get in line with the other women. Many of them chat among themselves. A few are loners and quiet like me. The attendant slides a race uniform to me with pearl bands on top and a wristband that will connect me to my room and other amenities here.
The locker rooms are packed when I enter.
I had hoped for an isolated corner, but find myself setting my bags down against the wall in a walkway between the showers and the counters where women curl each other’s hair and chat about their dream species, who they hope for, and their fears of mating with aliens.
I’ve read through the catalog many times. I’m hoping for a Leosantian because I think they’ll find my skills useful. They’re into augmentation.
Isonians are on the table too. If they want me… I wish they’d never dropped me back off on Earth.
I kick off my boots and change out of my clothes into my race suit. After retying my ponytail, I pick up my bags and look for a locker, but I can’t find an empty one.
“Sheesh, at least put on some makeup,” a woman with pink armbands remarks. “No one is going to pick you.”
Great. I’ve got a Cavika at the race.
“I want to be chosen for what I am, not what I wear,” I curtly reply. I find an attendant and stop her. “Can I just put my things in my room now? I’m not sure they’ll fit in my locker anyway.”
“Certainly. You have your wristband. Just follow it and swipe it over the pad beside the door.”
“Thank you.”
I ignore the scoff of the pink-banded woman as I Velcro my pearl bands just below my shoulders, then blow through the short passageway to the lunchroom and descend the stairs toward the access for the main complex.
I find my second-floor standard room, unlock the door, and step inside. Rubbing my eyes, I try to awaken my mind and fight the possibility that I’ve made the wrong choice.
I put my things in the secure storage compartment in my room, inside the closet, then walk back to the lunchroom with heavy legs.
The buffet spread is massive, and plenty of women take one of everything because I know they’ve probably never had it before. I grab only what I need: a small sandwich and a cup of strong coffee. I don’t even bother sitting down. I eat as I walk to the windows and look out at the race grounds.
The green lawns look flawless and hold so much potential that I wish I could find a piece of a better future for myself out there somewhere. But my gut tells me the moment my mother or my sisters hear I’m on TV, I’ll be dealing with them again.
I wish I could wear a mask.
Tossing my cup and wrapper in a nearby trash bin, I take the stairs down to the race field, where I walk the railing toward the gardens that always seem to be in bloom. Resting my elbows on the railing, I find myself wondering if Onidus will be watching.
If he’s even still alive.
Other women start to gather outside, and Abr staff cluster up in groups of security details and program operations.
Ohni zooms above the crowd of women in her dark blue, gold-trimmed suit of armor. She talks with all of them, but I hang back, hiding my face from every cameradrone that I can.
“Welcome to the Alien Bride Race!” Ohni’s voice booms over the speakers.
Upbeat trance music plays, amping up the racers. I try to enjoy it, to feel the energy pulsing through me. I’m about to race for a million credits at the top of Mount Milli or possibly get captured by a big alien dude with a hard-on for me.
The railing flashes. My heart pounds in my ears.
What did I get myself into?
The railing blinks green. Women fling themselves over it, and I join them, though my body suddenly feels like it is filled with gelatinous silicone, and I’ve got my finger in an outlet.
Confetti fills the air.
“Heads up, ladies!” Ohni’s voice calls out as the sky thunders with the roar of engines. “The males are here!”
I look up at the massive black transport with blue thrusters blazing and marvel at its power, at its promise of a different life somewhere far away from here.
It barely enters the lunar atmosphere through the shimmering blue envirodome’s shield when the door opens.
A bright orange male jumps first. He falls so many stories that I expect him to vanish in a cloud of mist. But he lands as others follow.
When he gets to his feet and starts running, I really start to question what I’ve signed up for.
A woman with yellow armbands stumbles ahead of me. I catch her hand and help her up. “Don’t let them tackle you while you’re standing still! Those brutes are going to crush us!”
She laughs with the truest, pure joy I’ve ever seen. “Thanks! Who are you hoping for?”
“Anyone who doesn’t want to kill me!”
“That’s a low bar!” She sees my bands. “Leosantian?”
“I’d take it.”
She gives me a thumbs-up as she runs. “Good luck!”
Then she banks toward the ropes course complex. I keep heading for the mountain. If I can’t get a mate, a million credits would buy that emergency transport I always wanted to gift to a colony in need. I could buy ten! But there are so many fringe worlds that it’s hard to choose.
More males fall from the transport, like a colorful river that floods the fields.
“Shit!” I spot a silver-banded woman racing for the mountain, and know I’ve got decent competition for the prize. I’m not a physical person unless running on a treadmill or on the paths in the city counts. So I’ve got my work cut out for me.
An amber Ksion with a tight ring of black antlers around his head barrels in front of me and tackles a black-banded woman.
They get in a tussle. A Mindoran shifter targets a woman not far to my right with blue bands.
She stops running and holds her hands up, not wanting confrontation.
To my left is a red-banded brunette, stocky in build, but hauling ass.
A purple-skinned Amphiran charges after her, electric green arcs dancing over the surface of his skin.
No one is on my tail. Not until I look back and see a shimmering white male with bound wings.
A Leosantian has targeted me. Before I can smile back at him, an orange Ginarigon crashes into him, knocks him off course, and starts charging for me.
Oh, fuck no! This is not going to end the way I’d hoped. I glance back and see the Leosantian get up and start to question if his kind is strong enough to keep me safe from my overreaching family.
I’m not so sure anymore. But I definitely don’t want any monsters with drugging bites either.
If I can’t get a good male, I need to get the credits. So I pump my arms faster, push my legs harder, and set my sights on the button at the top of the mountain.
I should’ve never signed up for this.