Free Marauder Fenrir: Scifi Alien Invasion Romance (Mating Wars) by Aya Morningstar

“The need to conquer, to interbreed, it’s what makes us Marauders.”
    “You really think so little of us?” one of the women counters, turning back to face me.
    I can feel the gravity increasing as our vehicle nears one of the strips of land. I can even see animals grazing in one of the fields and small vehicles moving across roads on the ground. They are small dots still, but growing larger.
    “What?” I snap back at the woman.
    “You’re just going to tell us everything? Shouldn’t you withhold information, or do you think we pose no threat?”
    “I would please like to cooperate with you, please , to see how we can work together. To arrange a bloodless interbreeding.”
    Turret Woman glares at me.
    I was not polite enough, I realize. I remember my studies from back on the fleet, and add another politeness word. “Thank you.”
    The woman scoffs. “You think you’re hot shit, huh? You think we’re just going to throw ourselves at you?”
    “Why are humans so interested in shit?” I ask. “Is it because you produce so much of it?”

13 Fiona
    I snicker at Fenrir’s accidental insult. It shut the stupid habber up, but I know Fenrir well enough by now to know that it was a coincidental burn. Or is he way smarter than he comes off, and he’s just playing me with his dumb caveman act?
    I’m still staring in awe at the habitat. It’s what Earth must have looked like in its prime, at the height of relatively peaceful human civilization. I still hate the habbers for their elitism, but seeing New Copenhagen, I can’t blame them for protecting this. If I had been born here, I’d never want to leave either and die to protect it.
    I can see some of the cows as we get closer and closer to the ground. It looks like this spoke we are traveling down will take us directly into a tall building. I want to get outside and feel the grass on my bare feet, but I worry that the building will be our last stop on New Copenhagen. I’m already wearing my prison outfit, and this small glimpse of paradise may be all I ever get. So I open my eyes and drink it all in before it’s gone.
    The building finally swallows up our tram, and the view suddenly disappears.
    “What is this building?” I ask.
    “The Sortitiary,” one of the women says.
    “What does this mean?” Fenrir hisses at me.
    “It’s where their leaders meet.” I say. “I guess you’re important.”
    “Their emperor?” he asks me.
    “The habs don’t have emperors,” I say. “They have triumvirates.”
    His ears pull back, and his chiseled jaw tightens. He narrows his eyes at me.
    “Three people working together to rule,” I say.
    “I see,” he says tersely.
    We’re at full Earth gravity now–something I haven’t felt in a while–and the tram slows to a crawl in a modern-looking lobby ornamented with smart walls and other extremely fancy decorations.
    Fenrir narrows his eyes, and the walls turn purple and teal. He grins.
    “Very important,” I say, rolling my eyes.
    “You’ll be meeting the triumvirate shortly,” one of the women says. “I must caution you that this particular triumvirate was drafted just yesterday. Your timing is...unfortunate.”
    “Sorry,” I say sarcastically. “I should have waited a few more weeks to betray the Empire and become an alleged war criminal on the run with a 7-foot-tall purple alien asshole.”
    “I was not judging you,” the woman says. “Just understand that these three are still learning the ropes.”
    “If these three were powerful enough to become rulers,” Fenrir says, “I trust they will make the correct decisions. Though however powerful they are, they will find me difficult to negotiate with!”
    “That’s for sure,” I mutter. “Or just difficult in general.”
    “I’m glad I challenge you, Turret Woman,” he says, leaning back smugly in his seat with a grin.
    The doors open, and the habbers escort us through the lobby. None of them are armed, though I’m sure the building