Page 8 of Her Cyborg Warriors

I’d do it again. That was why my parents had let me rot in jail and forced me to make do with a public defender when they had more than enough money to hire an attorney who could have gotten me out on probation.

My parents were big on the law. On rules. Protocol. Duty and family honor. I’d had that lecture so many times I could recite every word both parents would say before they even opened their mouths. They’d been immigrants, afraid to do anything that might rock the boat until they became full citizens. Even after that, the culture they’d grown up in did not approve of rebellious behavior. Family. Honor. Duty. That was everything to them.

I’d refused to back down. In that one way I was very much my father’s daughter. What the whaling ships were doing was wrong. The animals they were harming, defenseless. The ocean needed to remain in balance. Even before I got my degree, I’d fought the water itself in surfing competitions, the waves my ultimate competitor. I respected the ocean and everything living in it. Others didn’t. Others were destroying our planet, and I was the one in jail for crimes against humanity? What a joke.

Yes, I’d been called every name in the book from tree hugger to hippie to freak. I wasn’t any of those things. The corporations dumping chemicals and trash into the ocean, the illegal fishing and whaling operations had done their best to turn my love of the ocean and everything in it into something shameful.

“Regardless of the crime, she must follow protocol, Umiko. My apologies.” Warden Egara interjected on the other warden’s behalf, as if apologizing was going to make this all right somehow. Again, why was she using my proper name? I wasn’t sure if she was purposely being obtuse or just so uptight she didn’t know how to talk to people. Judging by the tight bun on her head and the severe expression, I was betting on the latter.

Umiko. Child of the sea.

I sighed. “Mikki.”

“All right, Ms. Tanaka,” Warden Egara agreed but still didn’t use my nickname. Cue the eye roll. This woman needed to get a mate of her own and have some hot, freaky, sweaty sex. Speaking of…

“You said I’ve been matched?” I asked.

Warden Bisset nodded with enthusiasm. “You’ve been matched to a warrior on The Colony. A male from Prillon Prime. It explains your dream and your sexual preference for two males.”

My mouth fell open, and I could feel my cheeks heat. I assumed they knew about the test since she’d been observing, but I thought maybe they were just staring at me lying in the chair. They’d seen me having an orgasm at the end, but having her say it aloud only proved everything I’d done in the dream, everything I thought I’d hate, had been witnessed. “How do you know there were two of them? Could you see the dream?” Because that felt like a massive invasion of privacy.

“No. Of course not.” Was the lovely Miss Yvonne embarrassed now? Good. “It’s simply that to be matched to a warrior from Prillon Prime, you would need to show a desire and a psychological preference for having two mates to protect and care for you.”

Okay. This was hard enough. “So, Prillon Prime? That’s where I’m going?”

“Brides are matched to a planet first. Then to a specific male. Yours is on The Colony.”

“I thought you said two.”

She folded her hands in front of her on the table. “You are matched to one, but the Prillon custom of taking a second means you will have two mates. One matched to you, one chosen by your match. Does that make sense?”

So, I was getting one match and his BFF. I could deal with that. I nodded.

She swiped her finger over the tablet. “As I said, your Prillon warrior is living on The Colony. That is where you will transport as soon as the testing is complete.”

My eyes widened. “My testing isn’t complete? Do I have to do that dream thing again?”

“No. I have a few standard questions to ask, and then we will send you on your way.” Warden Bisset looked to Warden Egara for approval, and the other woman nodded.

“Yes. Perfect. Proceed.”

“This place, The Colony? What’s it like?” I wondered.

Warden Bisset glanced at her tablet and began to read. “The Colony is made of eight sector bases ranging in population from several hundred to several thousand. Residents of each base elect their own governor. The governor of your base, Base 3, is Governor Maxim Rone, a Prillon warrior. At this time Base 3 has seven hundred eighty-three Prillon warriors, twenty-seven Atlans, and three hundred and four fighters from the various other Coalition planets.”

No. That wasn’t what I meant. “Please, stop. I meant, what is the planet like? Actually, not the planet. If I’m going to Base 3, is it like Earth?”

Warden Bisset tilted her head and flipped her fingers over some images, turning the screen to face me. What I saw looked like Utah, or worse, Arizona. Red. Dry. Nothing but desert and rocks. Zero water.

“Obviously I have not been there, so my geography for that planet is minimal. According to this report, that area is arid. Barren. Desertlike. Rocky. The atmosphere will not sustain human life for long, so you will be required to remain within the base structure unless you wear protective gear.”

Was this for real? “Any oceans on the planet? Anywhere?”

“None according to this report.”

I was going to a place with no ocean, where I couldn’t even go outside without wearing a special space suit? “God is punishing me twice,” I mumbled to myself. It was one thing to be trapped in a seven-by-ten-foot concrete cell for the next ten years, unable to touch water more than from a sink or shower, but to go to a planet where there was none? No chance to surf or swim, to see fish again?

“Can I change my mind?” Ten years wasn’t that long? Right?

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