The other women running with her today were beautiful. There were blondes and redheads and lots of green eyes. So many of the women had lovely figures and moved gracefully. Not like me. The words that had always been used to describe her came to mind. Lumbering. Ungainly. Cow.
The fear that this was some sort of colossal joke wouldn’t leave her thoughts. It wouldn’t be the first time she had been the target of a cruel prank. Most of her childhood had been one awful episode after the next. Leaving the village school to come home and help her mother had been the best day of her life. She had been allowed to learn at her own pace without the constant pestering and teasing.
Please don’t be a bully. She prayed silently that Swift wouldn’t be like her father or Wendel behind closed doors. She prayed that he would be kind and patient. That he would be a good man.
“You can speak,” Swift said, as if it had occurred to him that she thought she needed permission. “Ask questions if you like.”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, abashed. “It’s a lot to take in, sir.”
His fingers tightened on the back of her neck, just briefly, and then he soothed her skin with soft strokes. She had noticed that when she referred to him as sir he would have an obvious reaction. He seemed to like it. Wanting to please him, she decided to keep using the respectful title until he told her otherwise.
“You’ll adjust,” Swift assured her. “Once we’re aboard the Valiant, you’ll have support groups to attend and classes. You’ll make friends with other mates—wives—and learn everything you need to know.”
“Next.” A man standing next to a square silver slab beckoned them forward. “Scan.” Swift held his wrist out, and the younger man waved the strange device in hand over it. “Sleeve.”
She realized he was talking to her. She angled her body to give him access to the sleeve of her shirt that had the number she had been assigned. Beneath the number, they had applied a sticky piece of glossy material that had a series of dots and dashes on it. She glanced up at Swift and asked, “What is that?”
“This is a tablet. It’s a handheld device that gives us access to information, communication, navigation and more. I have one waiting for you in our quarters.” He touched his wrist and explained, “I have a chip implanted here. It’s like a key for use on the ship. It’s also a wallet of sorts. It stores all of my official information and allows me to deposit and debit credits. You’ll also be getting one of those today.”
She rubbed her wrist, not liking the idea of having something jammed into her body. “Do I have to?”
“It’s non-negotiable,” the man with the tablet said. “Step forward.”
Reluctantly, she stepped onto the shiny silver plate he had indicated. Part of her expected something awful to happen. Once, as a child, she had been helping her older brothers work on a piece of solar powered farm equipment. She had been holding a wrench and accidentally touched it to an exposed wire. The shock had rattled her teeth and left her feeling shaky for an entire day.
The man with the tablet frowned. “She needs to see the nutrition team as soon as possible. Her body mass exceeds the acceptable parameters for—”
“Understood,” Swift interrupted.
Alys wanted to die. She wanted to disappear. It was obvious to anyone with working eyes that she was overweight, but to hear it in that clinical way was embarrassing. She could practically hear her father shouting ugly things at her, telling her off for eating another helping of mashed potatoes or smearing jam on her biscuits. She could feel her mother’s disappointed gaze when she failed to fit into a hand-me-down dress.
“The calculator is warning that her body mass is likely to increase with the decrease in physical—”
“Move on,” Swift gritted out harshly.
Alys stared at her shoes. She focused on the smears of mud and dried grass caked on the soles while the man with the tablet kept talking about the results from the tests she had taken earlier that morning. Her fingertips were still a little sore from the pricks that provided the blood the medical team required. She didn’t understand many of the words used—hematological, endocrine. She didn’t want to ask and draw attention to herself.
“Reproductive hormones are in the range of pre-ovulation. If you want to be sure she’s ready to breed, you’ll need to take her for another test tomorrow morning.”
She cringed. Breed me? Like a cow in heat. Painfully, she acknowledged these men were no better than the ones she had run from last night. In the sky or on the ground, she was only as useful as her womb.
“Come.” Swift gently pressed her lower back. “This way.”
The man with the tablet was done with her. Swift led her toward another uniformed man who held a silver device that looked similar to one of the pistols her father kept in a locked box. She faltered in her steps, and Swift rubbed her back. “It’s all right. It hurts for a few seconds and then it’s done.”
Reluctantly, she held out her arm when asked and watched the man clean her skin with a green square of gauze. Swift clasped her other hand, holding it and offering silent support. The device was pressed to the underside of her wrist. It made a clicking sound, and she inhaled sharply at the sudden sting of pain. It was worse than a wasp bite, but Swift was correct. The pain did fade quickly.
“There,” Swift said with a grin. “You’re official.”
His handsome smile left her feeling excited and scared. Official. She belonged to this man. For better or for worse, he owned her for at least the next thirty days. Could she survive thirty days with this stranger? Would she want to stay? Build a life and family with him?
“Swift.” An older man in a similar uniform approached with a tense look on his face.
“Flint.” Swift dropped her hand and stiffened. He was suddenly all business, and she marveled at the quick way he morphed from playful and sweet to serious.
“Ma’am.” The older man nodded briefly in her direction before turning his attention to Swift. “I wondered if you would be willing to do us a favor? We have a ship that needs to be returned to the Valiant.”
“Where’s its pilot?” Swift seemed confused.
Flint glanced at Alys. “He went AWOL.”
Swift narrowed his eyes, and she suspected he didn’t quite believe that. “AWOL?”
Flint nodded. “Noble suggested we ask you to fly it home.”
Swift glanced down at her. “I’ll need a co-pilot.”
“There are plenty of pilots here.” Flint gestured to the men who had run for brides.
“I need to see the ship’s maintenance logs.” Swift scanned the tent. “Tirade!” He called out. “Wanna fly with me?”
A tall blond with blue eyes strode toward them. He could have been Swift’s brother for all she knew. Her attention shifted to the auburn-haired young woman he brought with him. “Zadie!”
“Alys!” Zadie engulfed her in a tight hug. “I’m so glad to see you again.”
Alys laughed softly and rubbed the younger woman’s back. “It hasn’t even been an hour since I braided your hair and we ran.”
“I know.” Zadie held on for a few more seconds, and Alys was reminded of Bonnie’s fearful expression the night prior.