Ryston stepped forward, a frown on his face. “How can she refuse transport? I don’t understand.”
Warden Egara rolled her eyes. “Earth laws don’t always make sense. And they have not adapted to being part of the Interstellar Coalition. They do not understand what’s at stake…” Her voice trailed off and she crossed her arms over her chest.
I looked away from the screen and to the human warrior seated at the flight control station. He was highly intelligent and well liked here on The Colony. He was the only human in the room who might make sense of this madness. “Trevor?”
Trevor looked from the warden’s worried face to Ryston’s angry one to me. I had no idea what he saw there. “She’s right. Earth laws are crazy as fuck, more politics than justice, I’m afraid.” He looked to the screen. “Who did she get tangled up with? The Feds?”
The warden shook her head. “No. GloboPharma and the FDA.”
“Fuck me.” Trevor whistled low and my blood boiled. Trevor met my gaze without flinching. “She’s screwed.”
I did not know what screwed meant, but it didn’t sound positive.
“That was my assessment as well.” Warden Egara’s uniform was a dark gray and hugged her curves. The insignia on her chest marked her as an official Warden of the Brides Program. She held one of the most highly respected and revered titles in all the Coalition Fleet. The warriors who fought to defend the universe against the Hive held close the promise of a perfectly matched female. Many cold, dark nights on the battlefield, I’d dreamed of such a match. When the Hive captured our unit, when Ryston’s screams echoed my own, when the brave warriors around us died or were swallowed whole by the Hive’s twisted reality, I dreamed of a mate. Dreamed of soft skin and a hot, wet pussy. Of her cries of pleasure as I filled her while Ryston played with her body. Hope kept me alive through those bleak days. Hope for a matched mate.
And yet, this human bride denied her place in the universe. Denied her importance to the hearts and minds of the warriors who had suffered the most. Denied her matched mate?
Cold fury chilled my body and pulsed through my veins like sluggish ice on a river in winter. This human woman had no idea what she was doing. It seemed she fought a battle against an enemy, knowing she could not win. I did not doubt her courage, just her intelligence. She would rather sacrifice herself than accept her matched mate? The very first bride matched to a Colony warrior, and she refused him?
Another rejection would hurt the warriors here more than having no match at all. And that was completely unacceptable. “Tell me how we can help you, Warden. A refusal will demoralize the entire planet.”
“I know. But she has pinned her hopes on the court system here, on a new trial. She claims that she is innocent of the crime and refuses to be forced into transport.”
So, she did not want to be a bride at all. “Do you believe her innocence?”
“Yes. I do. And her determination to seek justice is admirable, but it doesn’t matter.” Warden Egara returned to the screen, her face on the display once again, completely filling the floor-to-ceiling monitor, her projection nearly as tall as my body. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you have to come to Earth. You’re going to have to break her out of prison.”
“How are we to accomplish this? Will the human authorities cooperate?” Ryston asked. Of course, he asked and used the word we. He knew I was going, and I never went into battle alone.
“No. They won’t, but it doesn’t matter. We have to get her out of there. I received a call today from her attorney. He’s a decent guy, but she won’t listen to him either. She’s been safe in solitary confinement. Until now. The judge denied the attorney’s petition to keep her out of general population.”
“General population?” Trevor cursed. “If she’s truly an innocent, they’ll eat her alive.”
The warden did not look amused. “It’s worse than that. She’s a whistleblower and she’s got evidence that could bring down a lot of people in Washington. If we don’t get her out of there in the next three days, when she’s scheduled to be moved, there’s no question that they’ll have someone on the inside waiting to kill her.”
I looked to Trevor for translation. While the NPU in my head allowed me to understand the Warden’s English perfectly, she spoke with some slang that did not compute.
He seemed to understand my confusion. “On Earth, some prisoners are kept isolated for their safety during a trial. Jails are like a community behind thick walls and razor wire. It is a dangerous place. Someone on the outside can order, or pay another criminal, someone locked up in jail, to harm another prisoner. Kill them.”
My jaw tensed and I could see Ryston stiffen.
“When someone is already serving a life sentence, committing another murder won’t change their sentence. But having money and connections on the outside can make their lives better on the inside.”
As it was for the warriors here. Some, like me, were lucky enough to remain in contact with our families on Prillon. My mother sent supplies and treats via transport, communication and images of my family. Messages. But others received nothing but silence, no support, no communication. It was like they didn’t exist. Serving a life sentence was something every warrior on The Colony understood.
Trevor shifted in his seat. “Once she goes into general population, she won’t be protected. She’ll be living with murderers and hardened criminals. Anyone who wants her dead will be able to reach her. She won’t survive more than a few days.”
His clarification helped and I did not need more details. One glance at Ryston and he nodded his chin in agreement. We would go, and we would go now. “We will come directly to your transport room, Warden. Please initiate the transport codes for us.”
“I will. Thank you.”
She reached forward to disconnect our comm, but I held up my hand to stop her, needing one final detail.
“Warden Egara, if I may, whose mate is she?”
The Warden’s smile was full of pity.
“I’m so sorry, Maxim. She’s yours.”
3
Rachel, Carswell Penitentiary, Solitary Confinement
I sat on the bed, the only reasonably soft surface in my cell, my scratchy wool blanket wrapped around me. My knees were tucked up to my chest and my back pressed into the corner. I was alone, the silence of the space almost deafening. Even with one of the four walls being bars that opened to a long, main hallway, all was quiet. The painted cinderblock walls and gray sealed floor offered nothing of interest to look at. The single tiny window to the outside world was so high up that I couldn’t look out even if I stood on top of the bed. I knew, I’d tried. I could see the sky, know if it was clear or cloudy, but no ground. I didn’t even know what direction I faced.
I’d heard this section of the facility had been designed that way. We’d come in through an underground tunnel, turning several times before stopping. The path from the converted prison bus to this confinement wing provided several additional turns with no windows. It was impossible to keep any bearings. No ground to look at.
If I didn’t win my appeal, I would not see anything more of the world other than a few clouds for the next twenty-five years. That idea drove many to insanity, or to take their own life. What was a life with nothing in it? The clothes were drab, the cell drab, the food even more drab. There was nothing left.
But I had hope. God, I clung to that hope by my chewed-to-the-quick