3 Cylene

The doctor's assistant removes my collar with a special tool. It fizzles as he pries it free. My hackles rise in anticipation of the zap. When he frees the device and sets it on a nearby metal cart, I feel ten pounds lighter. Tears burn in my eyes.

"They can't find you up there. Tell me who put this on you, and I'll send out a notice to local authorities," the doctor says.

I give her a brief overview of the last decade of my life. "But I doubt anyone can do anything since they're in the southern Rockies. Wild country with rich businessmen who run the town."

The blond woman writes on her tablet with a stylus. "You're not the first to come through with this problem. Since the war ended, it's been a long road to restoring order to our planet."

"If I get stuck with a mate—"

"You're never stuck, honey."

I slump. "I know I've got a good chance at the money, but if I find myself in a bad position with another controlling guy, I can't leave them, or I'll have nothing."

She studies me for a long moment. "Normally, I'd smart off and tell you to just trade or hunt around at the events this week. But if you're that concerned, we do have a witness protection program to help you disappear afterward if you don't find a mate you like or you don't win the money. I do want to assure you that we only permit alien males to enter the race who have the capability to provide for you, who have clearly detailed their mating habits, and who are verified as safe through a criminal, species, and personality background check."

She hands me a set of square, glass credits and chips, some certifications, others informational. "Look this all over on your trip."

"No chance of getting my money back?" I ask, suddenly wishing I'd broken free and still had my own credits. I could've started over anywhere.

She shakes her head. "The number of women must outnumber the males by one. So unless you can hand off your entry to someone else, you're going to have to show."

"What if someone gets sick?" I ask as I pick up my backpack from Sia.

"Then we reschedule a male, or vice versa."

Her assistant motions me out of the office and points down the hall to the shuttle station. "Give them the green chip. That will permit you onto the shuttle."

I thank him but feel out of sorts like I've put myself on the wrong course to freedom. Many nights, I'd considered running when I took my findings to Nina over the hill. But she couldn't get the collar off of me and didn't know anyone with the skills.

The ticket monitor sits on a stool, eating a donut out of a box he rests on his plump stomach. "Just put it in the slot."

On the pedestal, a red slot pulses slowly. I insert the green chip card, watch the light turn green, and the gate open for me. I retrieve the card and walk through into the terminal, where the hypersonic shuttle waits.

It's been too long since I was a part of this world filled with high-tech and humans dressed in suits, talking with others through their visors.

I enter the shuttle headed for the capitol and find a seat in the back. My heart beats fast at the thought of what I'm about to do. Others board and take seats around me. I smile at those who glance at me as they find a place. But no one smiles back. I don't understand what's happened to our humanity in the time I've been working for my family.

Don't they know how lucky they are to be free? To be here, riding a shuttle into the big city?

I clutch my bag close, a piece of Sia and the few friends I I have back home in our mountain town. The shuttle dings in warning of take off. A few last-minute passengers jump inside as the doors slide shut.

The shuttle lurches forward, knocking my stomach into my throat. No one else seems bothered by it, making me feel less prepared for the trip than I thought I would be.

We race faster toward the speck on the horizon until I cannot distinguish the trees in the blur or the buildings that grow taller with every minute. The cabin is filled with scents of clean fabric and warm plastic.

Fifteen minutes of the rushing ride has me feeling weak and shaky when we glide into the city's station. I wait for the others to unload, then stagger out behind them.

"You must have low blood sugar," a young woman around my age remarks, handing me a piece of blue candy. "Noticed your badge. Alien Bride Race?"

I look down at the branded chips I clutch. "Yeah."

"Found my mate there last year." She tips her head behind her, and a large golden humanoid with four arms and short horns jutting up from the collar of his suit steps out of the shuttle. "Had no idea Selephatons existed or that I'd be so horny for them."

Her mate hisses as he chuckles and grabs a handful of her ass.

I slide back a step, unsure what to think.

She waves. "Anyway, good luck! Hope you find what you're looking for!"

Freedom and a lot of money? Me too.

The map on the overhead screens shows the Lunar Launch site, which is just a short walk outside. There's a shuttle option, but I have no extra credits. With the launch just a half hour away, I pop the candy in my mouth and push outside into the blazing desert sun.

Warmth fills my shaking bones, and I hope I didn't just eat some freakish alien treat that's going to make me grow an extra set of arms or be too high to participate. But the fruity taste distracts me from the acrid wind and swirls of dust.

The elevator at the end of the platform requires a chip. I insert it and get a blue light. The door opens.

I'm dropped thirty stories below the surface to the shuttle doors. The cavern is massive, and the ship is much smaller than I imagined.

Engines gush cloudy plumes as they spool up to a idling rumble. I swipe through the holovids on my instructional cards to ensure I'm in the right place.

"It's a slingrocket," a stewardess says from the catwalk. "Helps us use less fuel."

She scans my biometrics with a handheld device. "I'm going to have to put you in stasis and replenish you during the trip. Your heart rate is too fast and your blood pressure too low for a safe ascent while conscious."

"Great."

The woman motions me inside the shuttle and to a pod among many, some occupied, others empty. She has me lie back on the orange bed of cushions, then puts my bag in a nearby locker.

"Why don't you finish your reading while I prep the others? I'll initiate you last. I'm sure your Abr doctor told you to read up, yeah?"

I nod, thank her, and watch the videos while she gets the other fliers settled. Even if I don't win, I figure I'll get a damned good vacation, and maybe a talent scout will see me on the holofeed. Or I can disappear with witness protection. Either way, I am not going home with an alien. I do not want to be manhandled or submit to the control of another man ever again.

I realize how terrible my plan is as the stewardess straps me in, tapes a patch to my forearm that pricks my skin, and then closes my pod's hatch.

If someone catches me, I'm going to be a huge disappointment.

The air fills with the scents of wild honeysuckle. Colorful fluids replace the clear in my medical patch, and sleep tugs at my eyes. My heart rumbles as comfort eases in, and I forget my worries to rest comfortably for the first time in years.