Page 8 of Escape Clause

“We need to talk before we proceed any further,” Krogan said. “But not here.” He glanced around. The spaceport wasn’t as busy as she would have expected, but a few blue men ambled along, and, occasionally, one would streak by on a flying surfboard. “We’ll take a vaporator to my housing unit where we can have some privacy.” He slung her bag over his broad shoulder and gestured to a row of silver silos reminding her of gigantic organ pipes.

No good conversation ever started out, “We need to talk,” but she needed to be honest about her intentions. From the language translator she’d received aboard the ship, she understood him well enough, but some words and idioms had notranslation. What wasan evaporator? It couldn’t be what it sounded like, could it? She didn’t see any steam coming out the top of the giant tubes.

“An evaporator? Is the dehydrator in use?” She attempted to ease her nervousness with a joke.

He gave her a blank look. “I don’t understand. Avaporator is a form of transport. It’s what we use to get from one place to another. Why would we need a dehydrator?”

She twisted her mouth, feeling like an idiot. “Dumb joke. Never mind.”

An opening appeared in one of the silvery tubes, and he ushered her into it.

The opening sealed, encasing them in the cylinder, large enough for maybe four human-sized people, two of Krogan’s size.Luckily I’m not claustrophobic,she thought, but she was glad to have him with her as she braced for another wild ride.

The air seemed to bead up and glisten as if they were surrounded by champagne bubbles, but there was no sensation of wetness, just a fizzy feeling against her skin. Seconds later, the air and sensation cleared, and, to her astonishment, an exit materialized and revealed they were no longer at the spaceport—or at least, they weren’t on the same level.

“We’re here. This is my building.” Her bag in hand, he stepped out of the cylinder, and she jumped out after him before the tube sealed up and deposited her who-knew-where.

The floor resembled gold-veined white marble, but it felt like a plush carpet under her feet and muffled their footfalls. There weren’t any windows, but diffused bright light glowed from the alabaster barrel-shaped ceiling arching overhead.

Rows of shoulder-high vases of alien blooms splashed vibrant gemstone hues, relieving the starkness of the solid white walls. The flowers looked too exotic to be genuine, but their rich perfume revealed they were. In wide-eyed awe, she stopped to finger a velvety petal and inhale the heady fragrance.

“You must have flowers on your planet,” he commented.

She’d tended her stepmother’s namesake rose garden at the cottage and often picked wildflowers in the fields surrounding Bloomhaven. “Yes, but not like these,” she replied in a low voice.

“Why are you whispering?” he whispered back.

She lifted a shoulder in an embarrassed shrug. “It seemed...appropriate.”

His chuckle was rich but restrained, like the hushed elegance of the space itself. “This way,” he said, and she realized she was procrastinating. Tension had tied her stomach into knots. Beyond the door at the end of the hall—she assumed that’s where they were headed—they would “talk.”

Sure enough, he made a beeline for it. The door had no handle, knob, lever, or slider. It just opened at their approach.

“Like magic,” she murmured.

“Or a program chip.” He raised his wrist and then ushered her inside.

Chapter Five

His wife-to-be crept into his unit like she was tiptoeing through a minefield. He’d been feeling trapped, and patience was not his best trait, but an uncharacteristic sympathy stirred as he considered the situation from her perspective. They both were entering into a marriage of convenience with alien strangers, but at least he got to remain on his home planet. She had left her world and everything familiar behind. Judging from her reaction to the accelerator and the vaporator—aspects of daily life he took for granted—Terra Nova had nothing similar. Caradonia must seem incredibly foreign to her.

Her astonishment had aroused his curiosity about her planet. He would ask her about it after they got the important issue settled.

While her entering into their arrangement affected only her, what he did impacted all his people. He had more at stake than wasting a year of his life tied to an unwanted wife.

“Feel free to look aroundwhile—feel free to look around,” he amended. He’d been about to say,while you’re here. That would have sounded like she would only be here for a brief visit, and the marriage needed to last the full year. When she learned their arrangement had a definite expiration date, she might decide to cite the “bad faith” clause and demand a different mate. As the face of Cosmic Mates, he had to be married, visible, and make the program look appealing, so men would sign up.

Her gaze focused on the sky outside the window as she stepped down into the round sunken seating area. Cushioned sectional white sofas encircled the inside perimeter, intersected at two intervals by entry steps. He touched a hidden button on a sofa back, and a half-moon table rose out of the golden-veined floor in front of one of the sections.

Hope jumped.

“There’s one table for each section,” he said.

There was nothing else in the expansive room.

“Your parlor is very…”

“Stark?” he suggested. Before the pandemic, he’d overheard a former female guest describe his place as cold and austere, although she may have been referring to him.

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