Page 1 of Relyn (Warriors of Etlon #6)

Nora

“ M iss. It’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Nora Peterson looked at Gena, a small scrap of seventeen year old soon to be eighteen year old and froze. She already knew what was coming, already knew how this conversation was going to play out, but it didn’t stop her from trying.

“You got a waiver, right?”

Gena clutched her notebook to her chest, looked down, and shook her head. “Nah.”

“You are so close to finishing. Only a few more months and…”

“I just wanted to say thanks, in case, you know,” Gena blurted out.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s not too late. I can call Principal Cruz up and anytime and get him to sign, especially for one of my best students.”

“My family could really use the money. If I get called up, then my little sisters can all go to university. Besides, anything’s got to be better than life around here,” Gena said looking around at the flaking paint and the ancient chalkboard.

Ignoring the heavy truth that hung over them, Nora gave Gena a quick hug. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“Not if I see you first,” Gena said with a wry smile.

She left quickly and Nora began to pack up her things for the day.

Usually this time was spent thinking of preparations for tomorrow, little tweaks to her lesson plans and relatable anecdotes, but she couldn’t keep her mind focused on that.

All of it was centered on Gena and the very real possibility that she would never see her again.

It wasn’t the first time, either. She’d lost six students so far this year.

She didn’t blame the Mahdfel. She blamed the United States government and their failure to mitigate the adverse effect the lottery had on low income areas and communities of color. It was an old story with a new twist.

After the Suhlik had invaded Earth in a surprise attack that finally let humans in on the giant galactic secret that there were not just one type of sentient life, but thousands of interplanetary species traveling the stars, Earth had been completely unprepared to combat the giant space lizards on their own.

The Mahdfel and their rainbow color of fine male flesh had come to the rescue, with one caveat: Earth had to supply them with a fresh supply of women.

It had seemed like a small price to pay to avoid abject slavery and perhaps a complete decimation of planetary resources.

The Mahdfel were, if the propaganda was to be believed, good husband material.

They were less fickle than human men, and guaranteed never to stray.

In her twenties, Nora had flirted with the idea of jetting off into space and being matched with some sexy alien soldier.

Now, at the ripe old age of thirty, she was over that idealistic nonsense.

First of all, if twelve birthdays didn’t turn up a match, then it was probably not in the cards.

Second of all, the highest likelihood of being matched was on your first try, and it was clear after teaching for ten years that students without resources, or advocates to even try and finish a high school degree were far more likely to be matched and early.

They couldn’t afford to pay a fake fiancee, or apply for some of the other waivers.

Nora herself probably couldn’t afford one, considering the multiple flyers that mysteriously showed up on her doorstep a week or two before her birthday, all promising clean, responsible partners for avoiding the lottery for another year, for the low low price that was more than her rent payment for a few months.

Nora lived in a townhouse that could be considered anything but the trendy part of Philadelphia.

It was right on the edge of the Zone, an area that had been marked as safe, but few ventured far unless they were fully kitted up with a hazmat suit and rebreather.

That had been one of the Suhlik’s strategies, to drop chemical weapons on certain parts of the city.

Then as everyone poured into the streets, coughing their lungs up, they made easy targets for the giant space lizards with death claws.

Nora had never seen an actual Suhlik. Most people who had were dead.

The Suhlik were merciless and slaughtered people like animals.

She hadn’t been living in Philly at the time, which was probably why her entire family had survived.

Most of what Nora remembered about the invasion was her teacher leading her down into the bomb shelter.

He’d shut them inside with another class and a teacher, and had gone out to investigate.

He never came back. But Mr. Charles’s actions had saved them, she’d been told over and over again.

He was a hero. It was little wonder that she grew up to be a hero too.

It wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be.

Nora slung her bag over her shoulder. There was one more recourse to helping Gena.

Nora closed and locked her classroom door.

She headed five doors down and on the right where about twelve sulky teens sat spread out at different tables.

All of them looked downright bored, all except Marco. He looked close to terrified.

Ms. Perez was giving him the side eye as she scrolled on her phone.

Lydia was the kind of teacher that didn’t take shit from anyone, least of all some teens serving detention with ants in their pants.

All of their digital devices were lined up in front of her in a neat line, as if to show off that their real punishment was not being connected for the hour of detention.

They were supposed to be doing school work, and Marco had a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice and a notebook sitting out on his table, at least a show of being ready to do something productive.

He wasn’t a bad kid, when he was actually in class, and when he wasn’t pretending to be dumb and smart mouthed for the rest of his male buddies that would probably end up making side cash selling their rings to girls who needed a lottery excuse.

“Mississippi!” He called out when he saw Nora.

It was a nickname she’d earned from some of her students, after she’d corrected someone who’d called her Mrs. P, then Mississippi.

They’d apparently been impressed at how fast she’d been able to spell out the state’s name, and then it had stuck. There were worse nicknames to have.

“Marco.” Lydia warned, squinting at him behind her phone. “Good afternoon, Ms. Peterson. How was your day?” she said, putting down her phone and modeling a more appropriate response to an adult entering the room.

“Hello, Ms. Perez. My day has been delightful. How about you?” Nora replied in her teacher voice.

“Spectacular. Just finishing the day with this stellar group of scholars.”

Someone in the back actually scoffed at this remark. Nora ignored them and pulled up a chair next to Lydia. They leaned in and began their hushed conversation in earnest.

“It’s Gena, isn’t it?” Lydia said without preamble.

“Yeah. 18 tomorrow.”

“Well, if you think me calling one last time is gonna do it, I’ll try, but her father is one stubborn ass son of a bitch.”

“Ms. Perez!” Marco shouted, voice dripping with mock offense.

“Do your reading and close your ears. The adults are talking over here!” Lydia replied.

Marco started to complain, but Lydia put up one finger, her tight curly locks bobbing around her head. He opened his mouth again, but thought better of it and turned back to his table.

“Please. I called that man last week. Told him that I could get his daughter a full scholarship if he signed the waiver. He basically told me to-” she cast a glance at the room full of students, “to F off. If she signs a waiver, he’s going to kick her out of the house.

If it’s God’s will she be taken, then God knows best!

” She muttered something else under her breath.

Probably more profanity that shouldn’t be said in the classroom.

“Thanks for trying.” Nora’s heart sank. She knew Lydia was Gena’s last hope, and if she’d already tried, then she’d just have to play the odds tomorrow and hope there wouldn’t be a match.

“Ms. Peterson, may I speak with you in private?” Marco said in an overly formal way. Lydia rolled her eyes, and then winked at Nora.

Nora picked up her bag and swung it over her shoulder. She stepped out into the hallway and then nodded at Marco. He scrambled out of his chair and followed her, closing the door behind him.

“First of all, Marco, what landed you in detention?”

“It was Whitmer. I didn’t do nothing. I was just sitting there, minding my own business,” Marco started. Whitmer explained a lot. He was one of those old school teachers that was three years past retirement. His default classroom management style was detention, especially to boys of color.

“What did he say you did?”

“Laughed and called him a fuckin’ fart faced bastard, but it wasn’t me. It was-” he caught himself before he ratted out another individual. “It wasn’t me. Besides, you know me, I’m smart enough to curse him out in Spanish if I want. Why would I say something in English?”

That was true enough. She shook her head. “So you chose to take detention rather than tell him the truth?”

“Nah, he gave me detention for arguing with him. A whole week! I can’t serve a week of detention. I’ve got to get home for my job! You know my dad is sick.”

It was a familiar story. Many of the people around here suffered from blue lung. Just a whiff of the remnants of the toxic gas was enough to put a strong healthy individual on disability for the rest of their life.

“I definitely can’t show up tomorrow,” Marco muttered as he ran a hand through his hair.

Nora sighed. Well, she couldn’t do anything about Gena, but she could at least help Marco out.

She opened the door to the detention room and made eye contact with Lydia.

“Marco’s going to help me out with some stuff to serve out his detention with Mr. Whitmer. Is that okay with you?”