Page 23 of Bought and Shared

I think about my father then and how angry he’d been when my number had been called.

He’d wanted to fight the decision because he believed I’d lose my value in our community without my virginity intact.

That is what mattered most to him, not my well-being, safety, fear, or impending loneliness.

In fact, he raised the idea of having me wed immediately to the man of his choice the day I was drafted, in hopes that he could circumvent the Voltan ruling altogether.

It had been my mother’s calm reminder of the consequences that had stopped him from acting foolishly.

If I’d defied the mandate, according to Voltanese law, I could be arrested and put in a detainment camp until my fate was decided for me. My father could have been jailed as well and I would have suffered my inevitable fate regardless, so it would have all been for naught.

Part of me had wanted to fight back as well.

I had no desire to be sold to the Voltan and forced to have sex with an alien stranger!

The truth is, though, I didn’t want to marry the man my father had picked out for me any more than I wanted to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

Both “decisions” had been made without my consent and were equally abhorrent to me.

At least this way, I can decide what I want to do with my life after my service with the Voltan is complete.

It will be my choice entirely. And I sure as heck am not going to be wed to a man I don’t love.

Because of this, going back to my community isn’t an option anymore.

Like Cadence, I want to go to college. After spending time with my tutor yesterday, I have decided to make that dream a reality, one that I hoped Oren and Knox will help me realize.

Coltan told me during our session that the Voltan government has grants available for former draftees who want to further their education.

With his help, I just might be able to accomplish what would have otherwise been an impossible goal for me.

Instead of ruining me, my “service” will become the key to the future I long for.

“Are your masters saying anything about the incident?” Cadence prompts, after I’m quiet for a bit.

“Oren questioned me about what happened on the way back to the base, but he didn’t say anything about who could have been responsible for the attack,” I reply.

Cadence frowns and leans heavily on her elbows. “They hate us, you know.”

It takes me a moment to understand who she’s referring to. “Who? The rebels?”

“Yeah. Like the boys at the fast-food restaurant, they blame us , the young women who had no choice or say in any of it, for what we the governments of the world agreed to when the asteroid threatened to destroy Earth. Sure, the deal isn’t really fair, especially for us, but what in life ever is?”

I puff out a deep breath. “Not much that I’ve seen,” I commiserate.

Cadence’s expression grows dark. “Human men don’t feel bad that we’re suffering.

They judge us for something we are powerless to escape.

They only care about their loss. Their struggles.

We’re in the middle of some intergalactic pissing contest, and they blame us for not joining a war they won’t openly engage in. ”

Again, I couldn’t argue with her logic. “I think you’re right. I’m just glad those Voltan warriors were on that bus when we were attacked. I can’t imagine what would have gone down if they hadn’t been there to protect us until help arrived.”

“And I never want to find out,” Cadence firmly declares.

Having finished our meals, we dump the trash in the waste receptacles and stack our trays.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Cadence suggests. “I don’t want to go back to my room yet.”

Neither did I. A walk sounded perfect. It would help me clear my head and wrap my brain around everything I’d just learned.

I ask Cadence to tell me about her college plans, and she does. The expression on her face is radiant as she explains her major, and all she hopes to accomplish with it. I’m envious of how well she knows what she wants, and exactly how best to get it.

As she talks, I wonder what my own path will be.

Maybe, if I learn Voltanese well enough, I could become an interpreter.

Or, if I learn enough about the culture, I can be an ambassador of sorts.

Help unite humans and the Voltan in a better, more compassionate way.

Perhaps I can work on the issue of the draft by ending compulsory duty and introducing more humane options like incentives, scholarships, housing grants.

It seems like there are plenty of women who want to join.

Like Amy, they are interested in a mutually beneficial relationship with the Voltan.

I’m sure there are many more out there who feel just like she does.

Why not foster those relationships, instead of forcing others?

I’m chewing this thought over when a group of humans start jogging our way. They’re all male and have been drafted to serve in this new, integrated military that the Voltan government has set up.

They catcall us, slowing their pace as the closer they get. “How about a kiss, Red,” The man in the front shouts, and I quickly avert my gaze to the ground to avoid his sneering face.

“Screw a kiss. How about a blowjob!” Another man yells, causing raucous laughter among the group of leering soldiers.

A whistle screams behind them then, and the men come to a grinding halt. Lieutenant Crom comes into view, his face a mask of pure outrage.

“What was that, draftee?” He demands, getting into the face of the man who made the disgusting comment about getting a blowjob.

The draftee decides to double down on dumb and lie. “I didn’t say anything, Sir.”

Crom gets intensely close to the man’s face. He’s a good half-foot taller than the human, and twice as wide. “The only thing I hate more than men who disrespect women, draftee, are men that lie about disrespecting women.”

“Yes, Sir,” the draftee says, his face and body as stiff as a board.

“You still want to stick with that story, Collins?” Crom challenges, his tone conveying how foolish that choice would be.

Collins pauses, miscalculates, and says, “Yes, Sir.”

Crom shakes his head in disgust. “Do you know who that woman belongs to, Collins?”

“No, Sir,” the human returns, a trace of fear creeping into his brown eyes.

“That’s Colonel Rayaz’s companion, Collins. And do you want to know who else she belongs to?” His devious smile lets the draftee know, before he even speaks, exactly how much he’s fucked up.

“No, Sir,” he states, a note of panic beginning to set in with each passing second.

“Captain Knox Forsythe,” the Lieutenant reveals.

“You know him, don’t you, draftee? The Voltan warrior known as the Executioner by his enemies.

He just got back from his special assignment in the jungles of what once was known as Brazil.

How do you think both of those officers will like you asking their companion if she wants to blow you, draftee? ”

Frantically, the human licks his suddenly dry lips. “I don’t think they’ll like it all, Sir.”

“I think that’s the understatement of the year, Collins,” Crom slyly returns.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the human blurts out, his nervous gaze darting in my direction. “I didn’t mean what I said. I just thought you and your friend were pretty and…” his voice trails off with his pathetic apology.

Crom snorts. “You thought they were pretty so you decided to act ugly? How does that fucked up logic compute in your tiny brain, draftee?”

“It doesn’t, Sir,” Collins obediently replies, his cheeks so red they look like they’ve been set aflame.

“Correct. It doesn’t,” his superior says, hands on his trim hips.

“Now, to remind you of what an absolute embarrassment of a man you are, you’re going to do some physical exercise, during which I want you to think about what you’ve done.

Fifty laps around this field should help with your earlier lapse in judgment. ”

The man breaks his stiff posture and gapes at his Lieutenant. “Fifty, Sir?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that, Collins?” Crom challenges, his blue eyes burrowing into the smaller man’s very soul.

Collins manages to regroup a little as he accepts his unfortunate fate. “No, sir. Fifty laps sounds fair.”

“Good, because when you’re done with that, I have some toilets for you to scrub. Allen!” Crom calls over his shoulder.

Allen, a short dark haired human with a sturdy build, jogs up to his commanding officer and snaps to attention. “Present, Sir.”

Turning to the draftee, Crom says, “I want you to keep track of Collins’s laps. Based on his character thus far, I don’t trust him to tell the truth about how many he’s done.”

The pointed comment is not lost on anyone.

“Yes, Sir,” Allen replies, before jogging after Collins who begins his laps with his shoulders slumped in defeat and humiliation.

“Everyone else, get moving,” Crom shouts, and the remaining men hustle past us. When we’re alone, the Lieutenant turns to Cadence and me with a more relaxed expression. “I’m sorry about that, ladies. It seems some men were never taught manners by their parents.”

“Unfortunately, we’re well aware of that fact, Lieutenant,” Cadence dryly returns. “It’s not even the first time this week that men have talked to us like that.”

Crom shakes his head at her response. “Well, I’m not about to let it happen on my watch,” the man valiantly returns, only to ruin the charming comment by adding, “Though, if either of you were mine, I’m not sure I’d ever let you leave our suite, let alone walk around the base.”

Cadence rolls her eyes at his misogynistic statement, neatly contradicting his heroic stance of moments ago. “Right, well, guess we dodged a bullet when you didn’t buy our contracts, didn’t we?”

Crom’s full lips crack into a sexy smile. “I bet your masters are loving that smart mouth of yours, draftee. Tell me, how hard is it to sit down this morning? I’m sure you were up late getting the spanking you deserve!”

Cadence’s eyebrows lift at his astute observation. “Have a good day, Sir, ” she says, before taking my arm and pulling me in the opposite direction.

“You’re right,” I tell her, as soon as Crom’s laughter fades and we’re halfway across the field.

Cadence looks confused. “About what?”

“About some human men. They really do hate us for what’s happened with the Voltan. Otherwise, how could they justify this kind of despicable behavior?”

“Sometimes I forget you were raised in such a sheltered environment,” my friend quips with an exaggerated grimace.

This time, it’s my turn to look confused. “Why?”

“Because you think that kind of treatment from men has anything to do with the asteroids or the Voltan.”

“It doesn’t?”

Cadence expels a deep breath. “Nope. Some men are just assholes. Lots of them. That kind of behavior is a frequent occurrence for most women in the States. Strained situations like the asteroid only bring their hatred to the surface. It doesn’t create it out of thin air.”

After considering her words, I realize how right she is. And, if what everyone had been saying about the rebels is correct as well, there is going to be a lot more of that terrible treatment to come.