Page 1 of Tornn's Mate
Chapter1
ELLIE
Wild shivers rack my body.Though the docking bay of the worldship is freezing, I’m shaking more from panic than the lack of warmth. As the minutes pass, the pervasive sense of dread sinks deeper into my bones, an agonizing chill that won’t abate. For a fleeting moment, I worry I might go into shock.
Focus, I tell myself.Be calm. I swallow past the dryness in my throat and stare at the outer airlock door, studying every little detail in hopes of distracting myself. Eventually, my gaze drifts to a small circular window that allows a glimpse of the stars.
But I’m used to the large viewscreen in my family’s lavish quarters, and while the docking bay is a cavernous area, I can’t help but feel suffocated and on edge.
Need to get out of here.
Need to run.
I force in a deep breath and exhale slowly, watching as tiny white puffs escape my mouth. Fear churns in my gut, and my hands tremble harder at my sides. I can’t run. There’s nowhere to hide. No changing what’s about to happen.
A shudder jolts the ship, and the lights flicker. Another reminder of our bleak situation. Another reminder that I have no choice.
TheJansonna, the worldship that houses the last of humankind, is nearly out of fuel. We’re also in dire need of repairs. The five lowest decks are currently uninhabitable due to an uncontained gas leak, the water filtration system keeps breaking down, and environmental controls are in a constant state of malfunction.
With the temperature often below freezing, and the lack of clean water and nutritious food, people are getting scared and desperate. Our once peaceful ship has become plagued with violence, and it’s not uncommon to hear blaster fire echoing down the corridors as security officers subdue pockets of unrest.
A door zips open and Captain Warren—my uncle—strides into the docking bay wearing a tense expression. As he joins the security officers standing near the airlock, his critical gaze sweeps over me and the other young women who are gathered.
There are thirty of us in total.
Thirty fertile women between the ages of nineteen and twenty-five.
Payment. That’s what we are.
We’re about to be handed over to the Darrvasons, a race of powerful but mysterious aliens, in exchange for fuel, supplies, and assistance in reaching a habitable planet. The Darrvasons are low on females. They need us for breeding purposes.
Will I ever see my mother again? My sister?
What about my fiancé, Nathan? He’s a security officer and he promised to see me off, but he’s not here. I don’t think he’s coming. His absence stings, but maybe it’s for the best. We never officially broke up, but there’s no way we’re getting married now. Not when I’m about to leave forever. Not when I’m about to become the bride of a Darrvason male.
Tears burn in my eyes when I recall how several of my students had sweetly hugged me good-bye yesterday after class. After I’d delivered my final lecture, they’d gathered around me and wished me an emotional farewell. God, it had nearly broken me.
I blink rapidly against the burn in my eyes because the last fucking thing I need is for my uncle to catch me crying. Just this morning, he’d warned me to behave and set a good example for the other women, threatening to reduce my mother and sister’s rations if I caused any trouble. He’d also threatened to withhold medical care, kick them out of their quarters, and force them to live in a cramped lower deck multi-family room.
You’ll act sweet, grateful, and obedient as you stand in the docking bay waiting for the aliens to arrive. Keep your expression pleasant, eager, and devoid of fear.
His orders hadn’t stopped there, and coldness grips me as the rest of his words resurface in my memory.
Whatever your Darrvason husband asks of you, you must comply with his wishes at once. No resistance whatsoever, no matter how barbaric you might find his behavior in the bedroom. You’re among the first wave of human females the aliens are receiving from us, and I won’t have the alliance fall apart because you decide to balk at being rutted and bred like an animal.
He'd grinned evilly after that, seeming to enjoy my shock.
I glance at the other women. None of us dare to speak, and most appear terrified. We’re all wearing low-cut, form-fitting dresses created with shimmering fabrics. Our hair has been professionally styled, though none of us are wearing makeup. I suspect the command team doesn’t want to be accused of false advertising when it comes to our looks, even though it’s obvious they’re trying to play up our appearance as much as possible.
I study the line of women, peering from face to face. The command team insists our names were chosen at random by a computer, but that’s a filthy fucking lie if ever I heard one.
From what I can tell, thechosenonescan be divided into two groups. Group one: Those who have spent time in the brig for various infractions over the years, making them expendable in the eyes of the command team. Group two: The daughters and sisters of crew members who have spoken out or conspired against my uncle or his advisors.
I don’t fit into either group, but I suspect I’m part of Captain Warren’s unofficial public relations campaign. That is, I’m here to help garner sympathy and respect for my uncle, whose leadership abilities have come under increasing scrutiny as of late.
Look at the poor captain who had to sacrifice one of his nieces to the alien brutes.
Her name was picked at random, and he didn’t overturn the results! He could’ve asked the computer for another name, but he didn’t. He didn’t abuse his power in that way.
