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Baby For The Tark Commander

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Rana reluctantly accepts her duty as a proxy but is drawn to her mate. As their love develops, a growing rebellion threatens to tear them apart.
Like every other Earth woman in compliance, Rana registers for the proxy draft, praying she won’t be matched with a Faction alien. Instead, she’s quickly paired with Tark Commander Sarko D’sano. With handsome features and glossy white feathers, she’s instantly drawn to him. He soon proves himself to be a gentle mate who wants a mate, not just offspring.

As she surrenders to the pull between them, planning to build a future with her alien mate, a rebellion stirs. Some are fed up with the draft and see it as slavery. They’re getting more desperate and bolder, and they think they’re rescuing women mated to the aliens. When they try to “save” Rana from Sarko, they have no idea what they’ve unleashed, or how far each of them will go to return to the other.

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EXCERPT

Chapter One

Rana took a deep breath as she entered the Faction Embassy, her stomach fluttering with anxiety. Today was the day she’d been dreading—her twenty-first birthday, and the day she had to officially enter the surrogate registry. She’d put it off as long as she’d dared.

Like all women on Earth between eighteen and twenty-five, she was now eligible for selection by one of the aliens of the Faction. According to the agreement made seven years ago at the end of the Vorathan invasion, Earth owed a “debt” to the Faction, to be paid by providing human women as potential surrogates.

Rana thought it was an archaic custom, but she understood why the desperate leaders of her battered world had agreed to it. That didn’t make walking through the doors of the Embassy any easier.

The sterile white walls and sleek metallic surfaces felt cold and imposing. She wished her best friend Priya could have come with her, but she had to do this on her own.

A severe-looking Faction official directed her to take a seat in the waiting area. Rana sat, perched nervously on the edge of the smooth silver chair. She watched as other young women entered, some scared like her, others nonchalant.

After twenty tense minutes, a proctor said, “Rana Shreveet?” Rana stood on trembling legs and followed the proctor down a wide hallway. She was directed to a small exam room containing complex medical equipment and told to sit on the table.

Moments later, a Mosaic doctor entered. Like others of his gene-spliced race, his appearance was an amalgamation of different alien species. He had dusky purple skin, a bald head, and large luminous orange eyes.

“Hello, Rana, I am Dr. Mikal.” He introduced himself in perfect, lightly accented English. “Please relax. I know this process can cause anxiety, but it will be over quickly.”

She tried to calm her breathing as he began the examination, which included a full body scan, retinal scan, and DNA sample. After confirming her good health, Dr. Mikal smiled kindly.

“There, all done. Your profile will now be entered into our database for potential matching. You are free to go and will be notified if you’re selected.”

Rana thanked the doctor and took the printed information packet he offered. She stepped outside into the sunny day moments later, finally able to breathe. One step down, though she had four more years of eligibility ahead of her.

Trying to push her worries aside, Rana strolled through the bustling market on her way home, picking up some greens to cook a special dinner. She wanted to make tonight nice for her parents. They had been devastated when receiving the letter reminding her she was almost out of time to register and still be in compliance with the law.

After dinner, she left her parents’ POD to walk a few sites over to the POD she shared with Priya. Even seven years later, housing was scarce with so much of their city still in ruins from the Vorathan attacks.

She changed into her nightclothes and tried to lose herself in a historical K-drama on her datapad, but her mind kept drifting. What if she was selected? Would it be one of the giant Grimlocks or the frightening, cold-blooded Serps? It could be a Tark or an Alphan. Rana shuddered at the thoughts.

A soft ping drew her attention—an incoming video call from Priya, who was working the night shift as a nurse at the hospital. She accepted eagerly, ready to vent to her closest friend. Priya’s face filled the screen, her large dark eyes full of sympathy.

“How did it go?” asked Priya, who had gone through her own registration almost five years ago. Her BFF was almost free and would be released from the proxy program on her next birthday.

Rana grimaced. “About as dehumanizing as expected. They scanned every inch of my body like a farm animal.”

Priya shook her head, her thick braid slipping over one shoulder. “Ugh, I’m sorry. It was the same for me, but at least it’s over now, right?”

“For today, but I’ll have to live with this threat hanging over my head for the next four years until I’m twenty-five.” Rana sighed, hugging her knees. “I can’t have a boyfriend or any kind of normal life until then.”

“I know. It sucks.” She gave an encouraging smile. “At least the chances are still pretty low you’ll actually get picked. I mean, there are billions of us and only a few hundred thousand of them. Try not to stress too much.”

Rana nodded, wishing she shared her optimistic friend’s attitude. “I hope you’re right. I’ll feel a lot better after your birthday passes next month with no match.”

They chatted for a while longer until her eyes grew heavy, and her friend’s dinner hour ended. After wishing Priya a good night, she curled up under a blanket, her mind churning with restless thoughts. Somehow, she had to find the strength to get through this.

***

Two weeks later, Rana walked down the street with Priya, enjoying their day off together. They passed a sprawling refugee camp of PODs, tents, and makeshift dwellings. It was one of many that still housed those displaced by the invasion. The scars left behind would take lifetimes to heal.

Priya linked her arm through Rana’s. “Let’s not waste our free time. I’m taking you shopping.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Ugh, do we have to?”

“Yes. When’s the last time you bought something new? We just got paid.”

“Oh, all right.” Unable to say no to her exuberant friend, she let herself be dragged toward the shops. She had to admit, it was nice to peruse and daydream a little, even if she couldn’t justify buying much. After mostly browsing, they stopped to get dinner from a street vendor.

“It’s so ridiculous,” she said over noodles and what she hoped was pork. “My body doesn’t belong to them just because of some archaic deal.”

Priya nodded in sympathy. “I know, but maybe we’ll both get lucky and never get picked.”

“Hopefully,” said Rana half-heartedly. She didn’t share her friend’s optimism.

***

Over the next few days, Rana tried to distract herself and not think about the possibility of selection. She threw herself into her work at the hospital, where she was an aide, and spent time with Priya. She also made an effort to visit her parents more often. As they shared meals together, her mother would sometimes tear up quietly and squeeze Rana’s hand under the table. Her father attempted light jokes, but they came out strained.

During a visit, Rana found her mother crying softly in the kitchen. When Rana hugged her, all her mother said was, “I wish I could protect you.” Though unspoken, Rana could feel their sorrow, knowing her future was no longer hers alone.

***

Only a week later, a message flashed on her datapad—an official notice from the Faction Embassy. Rana’s stomach dropped as she read the words: Selected for surrogacy service. Please report to the Embassy immediately for matching and assignment.

With trembling hands, she grabbed her coat and hurried out the door. This was really happening. In a matter of hours, she would meet the alien to whom she’d been matched. Her life would never be the same.

Nearly an hour later, she stood numbly in the waiting room, the words of the notice echoing in her mind. She’d stopped by to tell her parents, and they’d hugged her but had been unable to find any words of comfort. Priya had tried to reassure her as they vid’d goodbye.

“Maybe you’ll get one a nice one, like a Brundle or a Tark,” Priya had said gently.

Rana clung to her friend’s words like a lifeline now. She watched as other stunned young women were ushered back one by one to meet their assigned Faction matches. The room was silent with everyone lost in their own worries and fears.

Finally, Rana’s name was called. She stood on shaky legs and followed the proctor into a small conference room. A Tark sat at the table, finally revealing the species with which she’d been matched. He had skin so deep purple it was nearly black, large white wings folded behind his back, and white hair that flowed past his shoulders. His cat-like yellow eyes met hers, and he gave a small smile that seemed meant to reassure.

“Hello, Rana. I’m Commander Sarko D’sano. Please take a seat.”

Rana sat carefully across from him, nerves and curiosity warring within her. Of all the aliens, she knew the least about the Tarks. He had a kind, almost artistic look to his angular features, and there was a birdlike quality in his features and sharp nose. He watched her closely, as if trying to gauge her reaction to him.

“I understand this is frightening, so I want to explain what will happen now. First, you’ll receive a mild genetic modification to allow you to safely carry a hybrid pregnancy. Then we’ll be bound for a one-year contract. I hope in that time we can get to know one another, and you will come to see this as an opportunity, not a burden.”

She swallowed hard, trying to keep an open mind. She had no choice but to trust in fate now. Meeting his golden gaze, she nodded slowly. “I’m ready.”

A proctor took her back to the medical wing for the genetic modification procedure. She laid tensely on the exam table as Quillin, the golden Mosaic Med Chief, explained how it would allow her to conceive and carry a viable pregnancy with Sarko’s alien DNA. Though non-invasive, the idea of being altered on a genetic level made her deeply uneasy, but she stayed silent since there was no alternative.

Afterward, a different proctor led her to Sarko in a small ceremonial chamber. As promised, they went through the ritual binding. Their wrists were loosely tied together with a silken cord as they signed the year-long contract on a datascreen. Rana’s hand trembled as she added her signature.

“The contract is complete. You may leave the Embassy,” said the officiant.

Sarko gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m on leave, so I thought we could spend these next several days getting acquainted before leaving for my rotation on Baxa.”

“Your homeworld?”

“The Faction’s new homeworld. Like everyone else, the Vorathans destroyed mine.” His yellow gaze turned amber for a moment in his grief. Then he held out a hand. “We can go to my ship, or we can go to your dwelling.”

“I live in a POD with my friend, Priya.”

He nodded. “I suggest we use my ship. I have it docked until my leave ends, and it’s easily accessible.”

“Okay.”

As they turned to leave the ceremony chamber, a news report flashed on a nearby vidscreen, showing protesters clashing with Embassy security. “The rebellion grows stronger every day,” said Sarko with a frown, “But I’ll keep you safe.”

She nodded silently. She knew little of the rebellion against the Faction surrogacy pact, but their actions would probably just make things worse. She steeled herself and followed Sarko out of the Embassy and into the unknown future ahead.

***

Rana stepped onto the bridge of Sarko’s sleek starship, her eyes widening at the viewport showing the city skyline. “It’s bigger than I expected.”

He came up behind her. “Yes. The ship is basically self-contained. I know it doesn’t seem like much parked among the other ships here at the Embassy docking station, but when you see the stars…” His sharp face formed a wide smile that was oddly appealing.

“Is it true you can fly through space without a suit?” she asked, recalling a fact from the Embassy packet.

“Yes. We evolved in the vacuum of space, and our bodies adapted to survive in it. We’re the only ones of the Faction who have that ability, and your genetic modification to bear my offspring won’t confer that.”

“That’s a relief,” she joked weakly.

Sarko chuckled. “You should rest. I know you must be exhausted after everything that’s happened. The ship will be parked here until we leave for Baxa in ten days.”

Rana shook her head. “I’m actually hungry. Do you have a synthicator?”

“Of course.” He led her through the narrow hallway and into a bigger room. “This is the galley, and the synthicator works like the one in your POD, though in Tarkisian rather than English.”

Rana studied the glowing symbols on the screen. “What does this one mean?”

Duschtak and hornid—a frog and beetle-type dish is the closest translation.”

Rana wrinkled her nose. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Try this one.”

She tapped the symbol he’d indicated, and a plate of fragrant curry and rice appeared. “Thank you.”

He gestured for her to sit at the small table as he synthicated his own meal. She eyed it with a hint of wariness when he sat the gelatinous green blob on the table. Seeing her look, he said, “It’s a traditional Tark dish called mehyk and similar to your sushi.”

She took a bite of the spicy chicken curry, watching as he ate his meal with apparent enjoyment. “How long have you been part of the Faction?”

“Since I was a child. My people were among the first to join after our planet was destroyed. It was either that or die out.”

“Your parents survived the Vorathan invasion of your homeworld?”

His expression flickered with grief. “Only my mother. She died a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

He looked brooding for a moment before he returned to eating. “I’ve learned to accept it.”

Rana finished her food, feeling more relaxed. “Where will I sleep?”

Sarko showed her the sleeping quarters, which contained a bed and storage compartments. “I’ll sleep on the bridge. If you need anything, I’ll be there.”

Rana nodded, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. “I think I’ll try to sleep.”

“Good night, Rana.”

A short time later, she laid down. The bed was surprisingly comfortable and far better than the thin cot in her POD. She let her mind wander as she listened to the soft hum of the engine while she drifted into sleep.