Gyft (Rescued by the Alien)

Chapter One

OLIVIA, DAUGHTER OF Alexander Nash:

“ GYFT ? WHAT KIND OF name is that?”

Yvette and I are alone in my suite, the smooth metallic walls painted over with white so as to not showcase wealth. I have fluffy fabrics draped from the ceilings in the corners to warm the vibe. Years of decorating... thrown away. I can’t take anything with me when I go. Not to be tragic, but isn’t that the true reality of death? Isn’t that why father always keeps us grounded, despite our vast wealth and privilege?

“Well, you sort of grunt it more, so it doesn’t exactly sound like... well, a present,” Yvette says.

Fingering the brand-new gold jewelry draped over my changing table, I shudder delicately, my elegant upbringing ever present even though my gossipy honesty with my best friend wins out. “It’s a rather guttural language, isn’t it? Rather loud. Uncouth.”

Her eyes are wide, horrified for me and the tragic fate that’s befallen me. But like a true friend, she leans in conspiratorially. “Yes, but at least he’s hot.”

“How do you know?”

We’ve never seen him. Every time he vids, he wears a hooded cloak that leaves his features in shadows.

“He has to be. His voice is so deep, so sexy.” Ever the romantic, Yvette sighs.

Actually, we only heard him once and couldn’t understand the language. The words he uttered, translated to English, scrolled across the bottom of the vid, but that was a problem in itself. To focus on reading the lower half of the screen, I wouldn’t have been able to study his alien form underneath the hood. Apparently, it’s their tradition to keep their looks hidden from their bride before marriage.

And that’s what I am. A not-so-traditional, mail order bride. I’d begged my father not to appoint me as “the one,” but his face looked haggard as he admitted there was no other choice.

The alien had chosen me . He has good taste, at least.

“I won’t do it.”

Yvette gasps. “You have to. Your dad decreed it.”

“I didn’t ask to be his daughter! And I certainly didn’t ask to be married off like this is some kind of old ... Victorian... Earth!” I snap.

“You’re so brave,” she agrees.

“Well, I don’t have a choice,” I utter dramatically. “Apparently, the alien wants the best.”

And my dear friend nods enthusiastically.

“But, dear Yvette,” I moan. “However will I live without you near my side?”

We’ve been best friends forever. We’ve gone through the matching clothes stage, the cute puppies in a purse stage, the hideous false eyelash stage. But that was so yesterday.

Her lip quivers because, trusty best friend that she might be, she doesn’t want to be shipped off to the horrible planet either.

“I can’t believe I’ll be an MOB,” I say.

Yvette looks blank.

I sigh at the poor ding-a-ling. “A mail order bride.”

Her expression clears.

“I won’t go without a fight,” I vow.

“Stay strong.” Yvette holds her pinky finger out so we can swear.

As we lock our little fingers together, I lean in to bury my face in her hair so the listening drones can’t pick up my words or record my lip movements. “I’m going to spin the coordinates dial when I get in the pod. It’ll take me somewhere new. And if I lose my cherished life? They may try to replace me and come after the next best thing—you, my friend. So follow my lead and do the same.”

She gulps. “They can never replace you.”

I blink my tears away. “Such a dear, loyal friend.”

“Come, let’s get you looking your finest,” Yvette says. “These aliens will forever regret the beauty they lost by forcing your hand.” Then she shudders when she looks at my picked polish.

I’ve been a little distressed.

“Manicure first.”

After our mani/pedi—I say our because of course Yvette does everything right along with me—she helps me dress in my wedding gown. I’ll be shipped off like a Christmas doll in a box.

With one difference.

We dyed my wedding dress black. Maybe the Kashians won’t understand the meaning, but my father certainly will.

“You’re such a beautiful sacrifice,” Yvette says, the quiver in her voice from trying to sound brave.

I nod. “I feel much braver now.” A little bit of goth has always been such a forbidden temptation and I’ve never allowed myself to do it before now.

I feel like I’ve reached a new level of growth.

Sighing, I look around at my pink and white bedroom with cool metallic accents of silvery grey from the original house structure. From my balcony, I have a view of the impressive city. Vivid streaks painted across the colorful New Earth skies that used to be blue. Purple flashes of black light from hover vehicles. Powerful windmills and buildings topped with solar panels—an imposing sight. Unless one realizes my view is that of a take-off and landing port. Beneath the red, vitamin-enriched soil, the dirt parts to allow my father’s magnificent invention, the wormhole shuttle—basically a time-capsule—to fly. It’s barely large enough for one person to fit inside because anything larger will implode upon atmospheric entry.

It’s the shuttle I’ll be taking.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Yvette whispers. “Throw off the coordinates? What if it goes horribly wrong?”

I grit my teeth. “I’d rather die by my own hand in a location of my choosing than allow men—Father included—to choose my tragic fate for me.”

I straighten my spine and Yvette looks impressed with my sacrifice. Plus, I should have the energy to conquer the world. I’d sucked down not one but two energy drinks, one for strength and one for courage. It also helps that I remembered the engineers who put together the shuttle mentioned the main coordinates couldn’t be permanently deleted for safety reasons. The shuttle will still arrive on his planet. I just won’t be delivered to his castle like a sleeping princess. I’ll be roaring to go as soon as I land.

Depending on where, I’ll be able to escape and hide. Maybe find one of their hidden cloaks and live out in the jungle.

Well, Jungle Jane I’m not. Maybe there will be a small city where I can blend. Surely their people can’t look too different from ours?

In the entryway, the loudspeakers click on to alert me of the footsteps falling in a marching rhythm coming from down the hallway. My father’s uniformed guards.

When they arrive, they’re in full gear. Their gloves contain built-in metallic knuckles to knock upon the thick door of my quarters, bolstering a thunderous sound at the door of my suite. Otherwise, I might not ever hear a knocking.

The door swings open and the males stand in two lines down the hall, leaving me a space to walk between them.

Yvette takes the train of my gown and holds it up to walk behind me. Her sniffles echo down the corridor. Such a loyal maid of honor .

The guards, strategically placed around us to keep us from escaping, escort us to the lower-level port where the shuttle will soon depart. Where, if I were to stand on the balcony I’d just left, I could watch as it creates another colorful streak from the fuel across our sky. I have to force back a sob. My beloved balcony. The place where I’ve watched hundreds of test runs from the shuttle, never once imagining I’d one day be a person on board.

When the doors to the port area slide open, a hush takes over the room. The giant viewing screen has a life-sized image of my intended, his head angled slightly so the hood covers his face.

I guess I’ll never know what he looks like.

My father’s lips tighten at the sight of my dress. He knows what a slight it is, even if the Kashians don’t. He leans in toward me as if kissing my cheek... or to whisper in my ear, but he’s really checking to make sure I wear all the expensive gold gifts he’s given me. The necklace chains, the earrings, the oversized amulet. Armbands, bracelets, anklets... as much gold as possible, without anyone realizing why.

I whisper under my breath. “I don’t want—”

“Olivia, we’ve talked about this. You get married, or Earth goes to war with an alien race who will wipe us from existence. One life for the lives of many. Do you want the rest of us to die? Do you choose death for us all?”

I stop to think about that. Really, I’m barely twenty... ish. Should the weight of the world rest on my slender shoulders?

“We’ll start the ceremony,” Father says, barely sparing me a glance as if he has no patience to wait for my decision. He motions to the head justice, who steps forward to speak.

His voice rings out. “This ceremony will be according to Earth standards since it is being performed on Earth. However, the planet Kashia agrees it shall be a binding ceremony for their planet as well.”

He clears his throat, straightens his spine, and belts out the modified ceremony in a sing-song tone used for weddings, reminiscent of Gregorian chants. “High Commander Gyft T’shil of the Third District Kashian fleet, do you agree to accept our highest offering as your bride, to have and to hold, to choose to cherish, protect and love forevermore, as long as you are both bound as one?”

I notice they took out the death-do-us-part piece. Maybe the higher ups were afraid the alien would kill me off?

I force my dry throat to swallow.

Two words, rather formal in their simplicity, scroll across the bottom of the screen, tragic words that seem so final and... deadly.

I do.

Yvette breaks into heart wrenching sobs, fitting because as my best friend, she’s obviously thinking the same thoughts I do; maybe the Kashians will turn me into a literal sacrificial lamb.

“Then may I present Earth’s first and only bride, Olivia Alexandria Nash, daughter of Prominent Admiral Alexander Noah Nash. The marriage is legally binding. And Earth’s bride will reside on planet Kashia along with her husband and his people.”

Only Yvette sobs, making the ceremony more of a funeral than a wedding.

The head justice clears his throat again. “By the power vested in me by the planets Earth and Kashia, I hereby pronounce you bride and groom.”

He bows his head, brings his palms together in front of his chest in a prayer position—I know what the bastards are really praying for, that the Kashians uphold their end of the bargain to defend us from the Bril’tioks—and takes a step back. There’s utter silence.

A noise comes from the alien on the viewing screen... a strange, gargling sound, followed by his odd language.

My eyes flit over the screen, reading the words that scroll across the bottom.

I look forward to meeting you in person, my bride .

I don’t bother to respond. Instead, I turn my back to him. The two guards standing with me take my arms and I’m escorted to the shuttle, the front door wide open.

Do the aliens even realize it’s so I can’t run? Can’t make a scene? Can’t... refuse their request for the alliance through a bride?

“Make sure you fasten the seatbelt,” the guard with me says. “That will initiate the door and start the engine sequence.”

That means I won’t be able to study the control panel. My hands tingle with adrenaline. Will I be forced to give up taking control of my own fate?

But the swish of my full gown is a blessing in disguise. As I enter the doorway, it completely fills the narrow opening, blocking most of the light inside the shuttle. I pause, allowing my enhanced pupils to grow used to the dark. Then I take a quick glance back over my shoulder for one last look at Yvette.

Beautiful tears fall down my BFF’s face. It’s a tragic, fitting send-off and I straighten my shoulders, determined to be the brave sacrifice we both know I am.

I give her a slight nod and lean forward, letting the skirts block their view for a moment. There. A small, preset dial. Right in front of the board that I’ll lean against to fasten the seatbelt, triggering everything to be set in motion. Where the standing board that becomes a bed as the shuttle takes off moves from an upright position to lying.

With a quick flick of my hand—and it takes a little pressure, but shame on them for not encasing it in a box for safety—the dial flutters round and round like a gameshow host’s spinning of the prize wheel and I hold my breath, watching it flip until it sets my new destination.

My new fate.

I quickly clamor onto the backboard and grab the seatbelt, aware of the lights flashing off and on outside as the coordinates change on the outer computers the engineers monitor from the main counter.

My fingers fumble, feeling clumsy and slow as I hurry to lock the metal belt in place. Hurry, hurry , I chant mentally, aware of the commotion outside as I struggle with the click.

An entire chain of events is triggered.

I glance out the door just to see the lead controller yell something to my dad. In turn, he screams something to the guards and I quickly place the belt in the safety clasp, locking the new destination in place, setting the shuttle in motion. It dips and sways as it breaks the plastic seals that hold it, as the door vibrates and begins to move with the rocking at the base.

My father’s henchmen race across the room toward me as the door slowly slides shut, closing just as they reach it. They slam their fists on the metal of the other side, again, the metal plates of their gloves reverberating the door like an old-fashioned knocker against the thick alloy of the shuttle, but I heave a sigh in relief.

The shuttle has been set in motion and can’t be stopped. Done this way on purpose, to prevent the passenger from panic or claustrophobia and trying to stop the take-off, which will implode the metal and gasses and destroy the entire takeoff port.

Half our home.

My belly swoops as the inner shuttle lights glow and the vessel rises from the base, defying gravity for a few moments before it lifts off through the ceiling that’s opened above. Upward I sail, lights from the colorful skies filling the interior until my modified pupils react, constricting instantly. They’ll widen during the darkened flight, once I get to space, enabling me to see clearly in the dark. But for now, they protect me from the light.

When I break Earth’s atmosphere, the shuttle lies back so I’m in the prone position. That’s it. I’m free.

Relief washes through my entire body, head to toe.

But then the vents turn on and a visible, smoky gas shoots out of the front dash .

What is this trickery? I hold my breath for a few seconds, before I realize that’s futile. Maybe though, some of the gas will dissipate as I wait. Or maybe it will dilute with the oxygenated air.

When I can’t hold it any longer, I blow out the stale breath in my lungs and drag in the tainted air.

It’s sweet-smelling and calms me instantly—and then I lose consciousness.