His Prize (Earth Women for Alien Warriors #2) - Luna Kingsley Page 0,1
the cost of transportation had been paid by our employers.
The sole bright spot in my journey across the galaxy, trapped with dozens of women in a room the size of an elementary-school gymnasium, was getting to know everyone. I quickly learned who I could trust and who I would eject into space if given the opportunity.
"Actually, I'm kind of glad they're running late," Kendra says as she spreads her arms and tips her face to the sky. "I need to soak up as much sunlight as possible. My vitamin D levels took a serious hit over the past few weeks."
Kendra loves being outdoors and prefers to spend her summers camping along the coast. I prefer a hibernation of sorts where I curl up next to my air conditioning unit with a stack of books and emerge sometime in September. We still became fast friends. Her tan may have faded during the journey, but she's still the quintessential California girl. One look at her long blonde hair, lithe frame, and movie-star smile would convince anyone. It's easy to imagine her paddling on the ocean with her surfboard.
"You're crazy." Iris cleans her tortoiseshell glasses with the hem of her shirt and places them back on her face. The rest of us are wearing tank tops and shorts, but she's fully covered in linen wide-leg pants and a matching long-sleeve tunic. Her tendency towards prim-and-properness annoyed me a bit at first, but her earnestness, practicality, and tendency to think the best of everyone won me over in the end. Plus, we're both Midwestern girls. You have to be friends when you're Earth neighbors. I think it's a rule.
"I can see why they didn't include this part in the brochure," Kendra says. Her attempt at humor falls flat. The reference brings back conflicting feelings for all of us.
We were recruited through the same agency back on Earth. They were adept at identifying women who were desperate enough to not bat an eye at the length of the contract (one Earth calendar year), the iron-clad nondisclosure agreement, or the working conditions. I signed up within an hour of talking to the recruiter. They're paying us an ungodly amount of money and they're willing to wire it to our bank accounts back on Earth every two weeks. That's pretty much all I needed to know.
For the first time since we landed, I feel a twinge of panic in my belly when I imagine my family back home not receiving my paycheck. How long could they survive back on Earth without it?
I take a deep breath and slowly exhale. God knows I've survived rough times before, and I'll make it through this, too.
The key is not to panic.
I remember the first time I thought worry would be the end of me. During Mrs. Kitterson's mandatory speech class my first year of middle school. There are few things in this world that terrify me as much as public speaking, and standing in front of my classmates and giving a five-minute talk on my favorite vacation destination seemed like an impossible assignment. I was terrified I'd throw up or pass out, but I focused on my breathing, just like I am right now, and made it through.
You can handle anything as long as you don't panic.
"Maybe they're sending someone to pick us up?" Iris is always optimistic. "I can't imagine they expect us to walk in this heat."
I can't imagine they expect us to walk either, but they'd need a sizable vehicle to transport us to the mine and I don't see anything like that on the horizon.
I think it's my imagination when the ground starts to shiver beneath me. Then I realize my friends feel it, too. We grab onto each other and step back from the source of the tremors. A few cries of terror fill the air, but most of us are stunned into silence. An enormous set of battered metal doors rise from beneath the sand and slowly open.
A passageway into the ground has opened in the middle of nowhere.
Mechanical whirring and clanging fill the air and we all fall silent. A figure begins to appear from the depths.
I hold my breath and wait.
2
I've made a horrible mistake.
I set eyes on the Earth women as I rise to the surface and realize how foolish I've been. Yes, their fingers look as dexterous and delicate as promised, perfect for harvesting the volatile vocrium, but the problem is the rest of them look delicate, too.