I felt stupid about it, and I blinked them away as quickly as they came, but tears actually sprang to my eyes in that moment. Tears of relief and hope and some kind of sentimental awe at the wholesome cuteness of the couple working together at this beautiful, quaint little shop.

A beautiful, quaint little shop with the best goddamn coffee I’d ever tasted to boot. Since it was only a small coffee, it was gone in an instant. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, trying to savour the depth of the flavour before it disappeared. Jittery with nerves and caffeine, I hurried back into one of the orb lifts in the centre of the station.

My coffee run had put me a little behind schedule, so when I finally reached the quieter, less bustling floor where the office I was supposed to visit was located, it was already a couple of minutes after 9am. I raced around the circular floor, almost running right past the non-descript little office. The only reason I slowed down at all was because something pink inside had caught my eye. As I skidded to an awkward stop, my factory boots squeaking on the immaculately clean floor, I realized the pink thing I’d just seen was somebody’s hair, seen through the clear glass of a window.

There were two human women inside the small, bright office, both of them now looking my way. I cleared my throat and wiped my hands on my dirty pants, aware of just how bad I probably looked compared to them as I stepped inside.

Both women were standing, and once again my eye went straight to that pink hair. I’d never seen hair that colour, at least not on Terratribe I. I wasn’t sure I’d ever even seen pink that pretty at all, let alone on somebody’s head. It was shiny and pale, flowing in satin-soft waves over the tall woman’s shoulders. She wore a crisp white pantsuit. Green eyes flashed from a freckled face as she nodded a coolly silent greeting at me.

The other woman was much more welcoming.

“Hey there. I’m Magnolia,” she said with a shy smile. Magnolia was wearing white as well, a strappy sundress that contrasted with the smooth richness of her brown skin. I smiled back at her and tried not to feel too grimy in my uniform.

“Cherry,” I said, holding out my hand to shake human-style.

“Cherry!” Magnolia repeated, her brown eyes widening slightly. “Like, the fruit?”

“Yes,” I said with a laugh. “Most people don’t know that! At least, not on Terratribe I.”

She smiled again, wider this time, showing an adorable gap between her front teeth.

“I’m from Terratribe II,” she explained. “Cherries galore over there. And magnolias. That’s a type of flower.”

“Fruits and flowers. We go well together,” I said, deciding I liked her already. She shook my hand with a friendly firmness, tossing her thick, curly black hair – tied in two long braids – behind her shoulders when she let go.

“I’m Darcy,” the taller woman said. She narrowed her eyes at my outstretched hand but eventually did shake it.

“So I guess you guys are also here for this whole mail-order bride thing?” I asked. I meant it to come out sounding light-hearted, but my voice cracked, turning my words into squeaky staccato.

Darcy nodded once, and Magnolia looked like she was about to say something in agreement, but she was cut off by the sound of a door closing somewhere deeper in the office, followed by crisp, efficient footsteps. Another human woman appeared, her blonde hair tied neatly back.

“Welcome!” she said. “I’m your human-Zabrian liaison Tasha. I’m here to explain the new Zabrian bride program to you!”

She indicated chairs. Darcy, Magnolia, and I sat down as she launched into a memorized presentation about the Zabrian outpost. Apparently, it was a colony made up entirely of Zabrian males who occupied themselves with various ranching and farming endeavours.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Magnolia whispered from beside me. She’d grown up on Terratribe II, so she likely knew a lot about farming. I knew diddly-freaking-squat about the topic, but I’d always been a hard worker and I was used to manual labour. I was sure I could figure it out.

“Why aren’t they recruiting Zabrian women?” That harsh-edged question came from Darcy, and frankly, it was a damn good one. One I hadn’t let myself look at head-on because too much thinking about it might make me want to back out. And backing out meant getting chopped up and chucked in a very cold lake.

A pinch appeared between Tasha’s pale brows.

“That actually has not been made entirely clear,” she admitted. “The Zabrian people do have a fairly rigid honour and caste system. It’s possible that Zabrian females aren’t interested, or aren’t allowed by their families, to journey to this remote outpost planet to marry the men there.”

We all absorbed this. Something felt a bit wrong with that answer, but what the hell did I know about Zabrian culture? Tasha didn’t look like she was lying.

“I couldn’t find an image of a Zabrian on my comms tablet. Will we get to know what they look like?” Magnolia asked. “Not that it… I mean, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. As long as he’s kind and respectful and everything…”

Tasha nodded firmly.

“Oh, yes. We have been assured in the strongest possible terms that no mistreatment of you will be tolerated. Each province on the Zabrian outpost has a warden-”

“Warden?” I repeated, catching on the odd word.

Tasha waved away my concern. “I think it’s just an awkward translation from Zabrian. The warden is basically a government official, representing the authority of the Empire on the outpost planet. If you participate in the program, you will travel first to his office, and from there you’ll meet your husbands. Warden Tenn will be your point of contact if anything is amiss with your Zabrian husband.”

I nodded. That was good, I guessed. We wouldn’t be entirely on our own out there.

“And no, I’m sorry,” she said, turning back to Magnolia. “I don’t have any images of a Zabrian male. They are rather notorious for not submitting their information to the wider universal databases, and trade with them is limited, though there may be one or two on Elora Station right now. But I have spoken via video call with Warden Tenn, and I can tell you that they are humanoid. Two arms, two legs, a prehensile tail. I’m not sure if the colouring varies between them, but Warden Tenn had violet-coloured skin and long white hair. He wore a wide-brimmed hat that cast a lot of his face in shadow, but he wasn’t bad looking. I’d say he was rather striking, in fact. Very strong jaw. Extremely tall.”

She paused, her gaze looking far-off, before she shook her head and brought herself back into the present moment with visible effort. “Anyway. If you step out of the shuttle, take a look at your husband-to-be, and decide you don’t want to go through with it, that is acceptable.”

“And kind of mean,” Magnolia murmured to herself.

“Once you are married, though,” Tasha continued, “you will be expected to remain on the planet with your husband for at least one full month, barring any serious issues or abuse, of course. After that month, if you are not happy with the arrangement, you will be allowed to return to Elora Station. Warden Tenn will send me an update when you travel there next month to ensure everything goes smoothly.”

“Hold on,” I said, sitting up straighter in my chair. “Did you say next month?” It was only halfway through June station-time. That meant at least two more weeks of being on Elora Station, waiting for Magnus’ men to show up and stomp my sorry ass. “Can’t we go any sooner?”

Tasha raised her eyebrows at me.

“I suppose that means you’re accepting the terms of the program?”

“Yes!” I said impatiently. I tried to quiet myself, to not sound quite so desperate, as Darcy gave me a suspicious look and Tasha cocked her head. “But I’m just… eager! To get started. And meet my husband. Is there any way to go sooner than that?”