Rykhan (Book 1 of Mate Search Series) Read online

  Rykhan

  Book 1 of Mate Search Series

  Full Novel based on Mate Search˗˗First Contact novella (included in Love Without Boundaries anthology)

  By

  J. A. Hornbuckle

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  Copyright © 2015 by J.A. Hornbuckle

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  Cover Design by: Brandi Doane McCann

  License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this novel with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please buy an additional copy for each recipient.

  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information story and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of J.A. Hornbuckle or her authorized representatives.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction and is not a reflection or representation of any person living or dead. Any similarity is of pure coincidence.

  Although, if you recognize yourself in any character represented, maybe we need to talk…

  EPub Edition: June 2015

  ISBN: 9780996510707

  Chapter One

  “This is not something the Casticians are prepared to engage in,” the melodious yet formal voice of R’arant Medt Shamar stated firmly, coming from deep within the hood that hung over his face. In the five yons that Bronsyn had held his council seat, he had never seen the other man’s features.

  “But…” Gwynt Stege, seated to Bronsyn’s right at the council table, stuttered.

  “Nor are the United People of Ater!” Comrade Koronyk shouted, overriding Gwynt’s voice. His fist hit the rounded slice of Orax horn that served as a tabletop with a muted thud giving emphasis to his already emphatic words.

  Bronsyn sighed and glanced at the other three men seated around the circular table, designed so no one council member held any more or any less importance than the others, even if only by the placement of their chair. “So what you are saying is that this endeavor will be funded not by the Picari Alliance but by Galaxia and Nutrol alone.”

  “Absolutely, Council-brother Llent.” R’arant shifted, drawing his long, four-jointed fingers up into the belled sleeves of his robe. Bronsyn knew the Casticians were bi-pedaled humanoids, but outside a few brief glimpses of very pale fingers, he had never discovered if their appearance was similar to his own.

  Not that it would matter since the Picari Alliance council was comprised of representatives of the only four inhabited planets within their solar system. All four planets were to be present, to have a vote on every issue affecting their collective worlds according to their two thousand yon old charter.

  “Ater agrees with Castic.” Comrade Koronyk’s voice was loud in the room, but then the Aterian’s voice was always a few decibels louder than the other members. “This is a problem for Galaxia and Nutrol which means the proposed solution absolutely should not be paid for out of the Alliance coffers.”

  Bronsyn opened his mouth to speak but Gwynt beat him to it. “With all due respect, I wouldn’t call the decimation of the populaces of two planets simply a ‘problem’.” Bronsyn glanced at Gwynt, Nutrol’s appointment to the Alliance council and noted the man seemed calm. That was until he saw the other man’s fists tightly clenched around one another in a white knuckled grip. “According to our scientists, the Galaxians and the Nutrolites are but a few yons from extinction due to the Xion gas released from the trail of the Sarbon Comet.”

  Bronsyn took in the postures of both R’arant and Comrade Koronyk’s seated stances. While the Aterian comrade’s crossed arms and scowl gave evidence of his resolution in not approving the mission, the Castician’s representative was harder to read, due to his billowing robe, until he spoke. “That was over twenty-five yons ago. Sufficient time for your touted scientists to have found a cure, according to the Benevolent Ruler and Supreme Instructor, Ismat d’Mert Qiztar.”

  “May blessings be upon him and his world,” Bronsyn muttered in unison with the other men in supplying the rejoinder whenever anyone spoke the ruler of Castic’s name aloud. R’arant’s almost but not quite sneer in the use of the word ‘scientists’ unsettled Bronsyn. He knew Castic was a planet ruled by priests, their religion directing and dictating every moment of their citizens lives. Surely, the Castic society had a group of people dedicated to researching, understanding, and determining the ‘whys’ of their natural world.

  “They haven’t,” Gwynt stated baldly. “Our scientists still don’t know why the Xion gas only affected our honored females, or why some of them expired into the ether while the remaining were rendered infertile. What they do know is without females, our numbers will dwindle until all remaining have gone on to Gyed’s sacred veil.” The redheaded man swallowed thickly. “This is estimated to be in only fifty or sixty yons.”

  Bronsyn could not detect a trace of sympathy in two council members who had voted against them. Their proposal was both simple and sound. It was a mission to travel to other star systems in order to find suitable brides. And should have been easy to approve, especially when those same worlds had declined to provide viable mates to the planets in jeopardy. Bron tried to keep his tone neutral but there was a dark undercurrent in his voice as he spoke nonetheless. “It is that, fellow members, that will affect us all since we know that our dependence on one another, in supplying what our sister planets lack through trade and barter, keeps all of us alive.”

  Comrade Koronyk cleared his throat but did not offer comment.

  R’arant, one of the high priests on Castic and its appointed representative to the council of the Picari Alliance, did not keep his silence though. “If that is true, then it must be the will of the Most High.”

  Gwynt gasped and turned confused eyes to Bronsyn. “They’re refusing to help and calling it Gyed’s will?”

  Bronsyn was just as befuddled as Gwynt, which he tried to convey with a shrug of his shoulders. Three of the four inhabited worlds in their system were monotheistic, believing in one supreme creator although they all named it differently. He was surprised to note, each also subscribed different premises on how their specific creator operated. On Galaxia, thanks went to Tsiran who not only provided but also protected. On Gwynt’s Nutrol, the goddess Gyed was the higher power responsible for abundant harvests and the successful mating of their animals. As far as Bronsyn knew, only the Aterites had no religion, outlawing it hundreds of yons ago citing the worship of deities only spread discord and discontentment among the masses.

  “If that happens, then we will seed your planets with our peoples and all will be continued.” Bronsyn felt a flash of fury shoot through him at Koronyk’s harshly voiced words.

  “That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think? Since Galaxia is a world of manufacturing and technology, industries that require a great degree of education and skill to work, how do you propose to seed our planet and successfully continue our processes?” Bronsyn sat back in his chair and crossed his muscled arms over his broad chest as he skewered Koronyk with a glare. “Because frankly, I don’t think you can.”

  Gwynt was not far behind him in tendering his objections as well. “All it would take is one season, less than one yon, and all the Nutrolian fields would run fallow. Without our people providing both food and water to our herds, clutches and flocks, they would
die out as well. Are your people trained in farming, in animal husbandry?”

  “The Casticians have no need of your technology or manufacturing,” R’arant replied smoothly. “And I’m sure we, of all the people in the Alliance, can surely learn to grind through the drudgery of Nutrol’s soil-based world.”

  Bronsyn canted an eyebrow in disbelief at the other man’s bravado. “I beg to differ. What happens when your mining equipment falls into disrepair or needs replacing? Or when one of the Galaxi built shuttles that ferries your mining crews to Soida’s surface becomes inoperable?”

  The priest’s hood turned to Koronyk and the two representatives seemed to have a whispered conversation, although their voices were too low to catch even a syllable of their speech. Straightening, R’arant advised, “the Casticians will take Nutrol and the United People of Ater will control Galaxia upon confirmation that the last of your people have died.”

  Shooting Gwynt a sideways look, Bronsyn caught the tail end of his friend’s eye roll. This, to his mind, signaled the end of the council meeting and perhaps the end of civilization, as he knew it.

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  “What the Frack are they thinking?” Gwynt paced Bronsyn’s spacious and opulent sitting room aboard the PA starship cruiser, Outbound. Since neither Ater nor Castic had the means to travel to off-planet, it had been up to Bronsyn and Gwynt to journey beyond the meteor cloud separating their worlds from the others. Luckily, they only did it infrequently and only to attend the quarter-yon council meetings.

  Bronsyn halted as he refilled their glasses with potent Sansei wine to glance at his friend. “I don’t think even they know what their refusal will incur.”

  Gwynt paused at the large porthole and stared out. “Complete annihilation is what they’ve doomed us to. Better to be overrun by the Isilks or even taken as booty by the pirating Basules than for our races to die out.”

  Coming to stand next to his old friend, Bronsyn handed him the replenished glass before turning his eyes to the deep blackness of space. The Outbound’s speed was such that the stars appeared more as faint trails of light than solitary beads. “I’d heard that the Casticians take issue with the pairing of two males. It seems to be against their religion and, I believe, was the reason for R’arant’s pronouncement.”

  “But…” Gwynt sputtered. “What else are we to do?”

  Bronsyn had no answer for his friend.

  Gwynt stared into his glass. “How is a male on male pairing wrong when we have no other options?” His burnished-gold eyes appeared dull in the ambient light. “So, we’ve no choice then.”

  “None I can determine.”

  Both men were silent as their eyes met in the reflection of the porthole’s glass. “Galaxia will send the drones?”

  “Yes,” Bronsyn replied, bringing his glass to his lips but not tasting the expensive alcohol. His mind was too full of what needed to be done. “I will broadcast my recommendations tonight and the eight drones will immediately be dispatched to find inhabited planets. Hopefully they will report back with findings of a humanoid species compatible to our own.”

  “You’re sure there’s nothing closer to our system?” Gwynt’s high forehead furrowed. The death-sentence both Galaxia and Nutrol had been given was unthinkable. “Six merts is a long time to wait for news.”

  Bronsyn shrugged and turned away from the window. “Agreed, but it is better than six yons.”

  “I can understand the denial of providing females by the Casticians, since they’re kept in virtual seclusion as dictated by Qiztar and their holy book. But to be denied access to Ater females…”

  Bronsyn swiftly turned back to his friend, disbelief clear in both his voice and posture. “Have you ever seen an Aterian woman?” At Gwynt’s headshake of denial, Bronsyn enlightened his council brother. “On Ater, no one considers gender. They are all to be considered equal, except for the ruling party, and their way of ensuring that is to appear sexless.”

  Gwynt’s frown was one of confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  Bronsyn made his way back to the table holding the remains of the Sansei wine and topped up his glass. “Imagine a world full of people who look exactly like Comrade Trigor Koronyk. Same bowl haircut, same military styled clothing, and same attitude of iconoclasm. At first glance, one cannot discern who is female or who is male, even with their young. Rumor has it that the women bind themselves so as not to display their curves.”

  “But that is…I mean, who would insist that a female…” Gwynt’s stuttering echoed Bronsyn’s own when he had first heard of the practice.

  “That’s not all. Cosmetics and artificial scents are illegal on the planet as well. The goal, at least as I understand it, is to create a homogeny of their race. Everyone appears equal. Therefore, all are equal.”

  Gwynt stared at the floor, while he considered the former Galaxi’s warrior words, only the top of his thinning blonde hair visible. After several beats of silence, he asked, “what, then of their family units if they’re all considered the same? Which of the pair cares for their littles, their young?”

  Bronsyn hid his smile behind his glass. He’d always loved the Nutrolite word for their young ones since ‘littles’ was exactly how they were considered on the agricultural planet, or were until Sarbon’s gases had rendered reproduction an impossibility. As soon as their young could walk upright, the smallest segment of Nutrolite society were included in the family’s workday in some capacity. Whether it was working a field, in the care of animals or sustaining the home, back before Sarbon’s destruction, everyone within a Nutrol family contributed. “The UPA do not live in pairs, old friend. No, they only mate after an official document attesting to their degree of compatibility is given. Once impregnated, another test is performed and the most suitable of the pair is appointed as ‘guardian’.”

  “That’s just wrong on too many levels to discuss at this late hour,” Gwynt murmured, setting his glass down on the nearest shelf. “We’ll be orbiting Nutrol tomorrow and I’ll be extending to the surface in the first group.” He reached an arm out to Bronsyn to offer a goodbye in the manner of his people. “Good journey, Bron, and Gyed be praised for her many blessings on us both.”

  “May Tsiran protect you and yours until we meet again,” Bronsyn intoned as he grasped the forearm of one his oldest friends. “I’ll send you a broadcast after the next Galaxi Herald to keep you updated.”

  “You people have more meetings than there are grains of sands on your beaches.” Gwynt’s voice held a trace of humor, incongruous with the seriousness of his face. Gwynt swiped a hand at the panel next to the door in order to open it.

  The former Galaxi warrior did not speak but only shook his head to settle his gray-threaded, waist-length hair that he counted as a symbol of his former glory, behind his shoulders as he raised a hand in farewell.

  At the soft swish of the closing portal, Bron made his way to his tresl, the communications device that kept him in contact with the Galaxi Herald, the ruling assembly on his home world.

  His heart was heavy at the information he had to report. Gwynt had the right of it when he had asked if there was no other choice but a galactic search for females, ones willing to join and create families. As soon as Bronsyn’s report was received the space-drones, all eight of the mechanical devices, would be spewed into the galaxy filled with sensitive equipment that would pick up the smallest whisper of sentient life on whatever planet their trajectory took them.

  If there was a possibility the drones might find success in their endeavor, Bronsyn was more than for it. Their worlds were dying, sentenced to extinction unless something was done.

  Throughout all of their recorded history, through eons of time the four planets interacted, protected, and shared knowledge between them.

  Slowly Ater and Castic pulled away, preferring to keep their societies free of outside influences, citing Galaxia and Nutrol customs didn’t mesh with their own. What had started as a coalition of like-minded worlds ha
d decayed into nothing more than a panel of negotiators intent on securing the best trade of resources. The denial of access to their females along with the refusal of Picari Alliance funds to pay for the proposed quest was just their latest avowal to remain sequestered and isolated from Galaxia and Nutrol.

  There was no way for the other two planets, in the whole of the four inhabitable worlds located in the Picari system, to remain a constant stronghold without the Aterian’s and Castician’s help.

  On both Galaxi and Nutrol, the Aterians and Casticians were subjects of ridicule, symbols of people repressed, conquered, and held captive by their antiquated beliefs. They depended on Galaxia to provide the technology giving them a hand-up, a step-up in the trades allowing the planet to prosper.

  Their recent meeting showed Ater and Castic’s greed and Bronsyn wondered how long the plans had been in place, allowing the two other planets to die out. How long had they had an eye on the takeover of the fruitful planets? To his knowledge, approval was only given for the most simplistic technological devices and to the import of fruits, vegetables and fresh meat. Up until today, Bronsyn had scoffed their lack of knowledge in all modern systems.

  After their proposal, their glaring lack and overconfidence in their abilities was disturbing.

  The droids were the first step in securing a future.

  ‘Will it be enough?’ his mind whispered the question, but his heart echoed it as a plea.

  He bowed his head, offering a silent, fervent prayer to Tsiran. ‘Protectorate of us all, help us in our quest. Assist us as we seek out mates for our more than worthy warriors in order to replenish our dying worlds.’

  Chapter Two