Page 4

Zandrel

Mate Match kicks off production each season with a welcome dinner for all the contestants.

Well. Dinner might be a stretch.

There’s food available, and drinks, but the main sport of the evening is getting all the contestants in the same place to allow them to start socializing and strategizing and parading around in front of the cameras. A pageant, all of it, and I watch dispassionately as those familiar mechanics are put in motion.

Not that they’ve been familiar to me for very long.

Research. I watched every season of the show I could find on the vidcomm network for research. Certainly not because it provided any true entertainment value.

If I was going to be demoted to working security for such a frivolous endeavor, the least I could do was try to understand it better.

Only, as it turns out, there’s not much to understand.

Flirting, fighting, fucking. Jealousy and love triangles and ‘true’ mate pairings played out for an audience of billions across the sector.

Nauseating. All of it. In a strangely addicting sort of way, if that’s the kind of entertainment that captures your attention.

Not that I would know anything about it.

So far, the beach has been calm as all the contestants settled into their accommodations. No fights to break up, not a hell of a lot to do other than ignore my colleagues and take advantage of the dull afternoon to start my research on humans. I scoured the comms networks to learn everything I could about where they come from, what their culture and military are like, and how one of them might have found themselves so very far from their abandoned homeworld.

Roslyn.

That’s the human’s name.

I’ve heard it no less than a hundred times in murmured conversations amongst the cast and crew. She’s already causing a stir, and is apparently going to be a feature amongst the contestants, according to chatter from the producers.

A curiosity. An oddity to draw in more views.

I’d almost feel bad for the sideshow they’re making of her, if she hadn’t signed up to be here of her own volition.

But she knew what she was getting into, and I’m here to keep her and the rest of these fools in line, so I’m not going to spare any time concerning myself with her feelings.

Especially not now that filming’s officially started and Roslyn is mingling among the rest of the contestants at dinner. Moving through the shadows at the edge of the main pavilion, I position myself with a line of sight directly to her.

She hovers near the edge of the crowd as Geeno bounds up the stairs to address everyone. He launches into more dramatics about the ‘journey kicking off’ the ‘noble pursuit of following your heart to happiness’.

Fates above, does anyone believe this nonsense?

The Volbherran female standing next to Roslyn leans in to whisper something into her ear, and the corners of Roslyn’s mouth quirk up into a smile. She says something in return, too quiet and far away for me to hear, and the two of them share a laugh.

My mental file gains a new page, more research to do on the Volbherran and a possible conspiratorship between the two.

Geeno finishes his address, takes his leave, and after a couple of suspended moments of shared hesitation amongst the group, the games begin.

Still hidden by shadows, I skirt around the side of the building to get closer to Roslyn and put myself in earshot for whatever’s going to happen next.

Contestants start moving, pairs start forming, and no less than a half-dozen suitors make straight for her.

I watch her eyes widen, watch as she takes a half-step backward before seeming to remember herself. She pastes a smile on her lips and squares her shoulders against the onslaught.

A Vas-Greshiran reaches her first.

Stepping from where he’d been standing just beside Roslyn and the Volbherran, he puts himself bodily in front of the competition and offers her one of the two glasses of whatever sparkling beverage he’s holding.

“Nice to meet you…” he says with what I assume is supposed to be a charming smile, allowing her the opening to supply her name.

“Roslyn.”

“Roslyn,” he repeats, smile widening as she accepts the drink. “Come for a walk with me?”

I’m close enough now to see the tightening of Roslyn’s expression, the falter of her smile before she nods. Looking inordinately pleased with himself, the Vas-Greshiran offers her his arm. She accepts it, apparently content with the suitor who won the race for her attention.

The little human could do worse.

Vas-Greshirans are an honorable people. Many of them are fearsome warriors, known throughout the Seventh Sector for their military strength.

This male has the look of a soldier to him. Tall, broad-shouldered, golden tan skin covered in the silver-line tattoos common to Vas-Greshirans. Wearing clothing simpler than many of his fellow contestants, and with black hair neatly cropped, he’s one of the few in the group who might almost pass for a male with a solid head on his shoulders.

Almost.

He is here, after all, so he can’t be of entirely sound mind.

The two of them leave the pavilion, the contestant pool around them thinning as pairs disappear into the evening, tailed by hovercams.

The Vas-Greshiran gently withdraws his arm to place a hand in the middle of Roslyn’s back as they reach the stairs, and her body tenses again. Slight, and apparently not enough for the male to notice as he guides her down to the sand.

But I notice, and take note.

Roslyn radiates tension, even with her polite smile, and it’s a wonder he can’t sense it.

More pages, filling. More red tally marks stacked up in my mental file. Strange behavior for someone who’s supposedly here to mingle with and date males just like this one.

Or perhaps she’s still disoriented in a new environment, filled with nerves, and the rest is entirely my imagination.

They take a meandering path away from the beach and into the section of jungle cordoned off by production. Extending a few hundred meters into the surrounding landscape, it takes them up a gently sloping foothill toward a small, scenic waterfall and natural pool. A trio of hovercams tail them as they go, capturing every saccharine moment.

I move through the shadows beside the path, following closely enough to keep them in sight, but far enough to lose their conversation in the night air. All I catch are half-sentences and the tenor of their voices, perfectly pleasant as they get to know each other on their walk.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, that same sane voice rears its irritating head.

There’s no reason for me to be doing this, it whispers. I should turn back, leave them to their evening. Stop looking for dangers and plots that don’t exist.

A cluster of dried leaves rustles underfoot, and Roslyn immediately reacts to the sound. Posture snapping straight, eyes widening as she swings around to find the source of the disturbance.

Fates damn it.

Observant, this little human, despite her unremarkable physical attributes and defenses.

Or, perhaps the keen stare she fixes on the jungle just slightly off-angle to where I’m standing is a part of this species’ defenses. A wariness and suspicion that likely serves them well with no natural weaponry to fend off attack.

The Vas-Greshiran shoots her a questioning look, and she gives her head a slight shake as she hurries to catch up with him, though the tension doesn’t leave her body.

Her eyes dart around her surroundings, her mouth sets into a sharp frown, but she accepts the arm the Vas-Greshiran offers her and lets him lead her on down the path.

Keeping my steps lighter and more careful, I trail them the rest of the way to the falls and pool and the small mossy clearing surrounding it. It’s at the very edge of the production zone, ringed by the tall metal fence that circles the entire area. Though, this section is cleverly camouflaged by trees and shrubbery and climbing vines that make it almost impossible to pick out from the rest of the thick jungle.

The entire scene is lit with blue-green light shining up from the bottom of the pool. Roslyn lets out a soft gasp as they step into the clearing, with a bright smile so genuine it makes me doubt myself again.

Leave. I should just leave them to their evening. They’ve got three cams on them, more than adequately recording their interaction. There’s no reason to think she’s about to commit some kind of crime.

I’ve almost resolved to do just that. To leave them alone and review the footage later, spend the rest of the evening conducting more research or—perhaps more sensibly—doing my actual job of monitoring the entire zone rather than fixating on a single contestant.

Until a movement from the clearing’s edge catches my attention.

The Vas-Greshiran steps toward the pool, but Roslyn stays where she is, waiting until his back is turned before she brushes her fingers along the fence.

Idly—something that might almost look like an accident if I wasn’t watching so closely—her hand finds the metal links. Her fingers flex briefly, like she’s testing the weight and the strength of them. How likely they might be to hold a small human trying to climb up and over.

When the Vas-Greshiran turns back around to face her, she drops her hand slowly, casually, returning the smile he gives her with one of her own, looking untroubled, calm, completely at ease as she joins him by the pool.

“This is beautiful.”

I catch the edge of her soft murmur as I skirt through the jungle, positioning myself at a better angle to observe the two of them.

“I think there are a lot of plants on Eritin II that glow like this,” the male says, gesturing to the shifting blue-green light cast by the waterweeds growing at the bottom of the pool as the two of them crouch down to get a better look.

The hovercams follow, circling slowly to capture the whole romantic scene.

Roslyn nods enthusiastically. “That’s right. It’s a bacterium, actually, that causes the bioluminescence. It’s not harmful to touch, and it’s found in both aquatic and terrestrial…”

She trails off, and even in the dim of the evening and the soft glow of the pool, it’s easy to spot the flush of color on her pale cheeks. Like it did on the landing strip earlier, that color appears to be tied to some emotion. Embarrassment, perhaps, as she clears her throat and pauses what must be a recounting of some very detailed study she’s done on this planet and its environment.

Handy, that kind of study. Especially if one were to find themselves in the thick of the Eritin jungle carrying out some mission outside the Mate Match production zone.

“Sorry,” she says with a half-hearted laugh. “I don’t mean to bore you with a lecture.”

“You’re not boring me in the slightest, Roslyn.” He brushes a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

Smooth, this male.

Roslyn’s posture stiffens slightly at the touch, but she recovers quickly as she forces another laugh.

“Great. I would hate to think I’m ruining your first night here.”

The Vas-Greshiran straightens and offers her a hand. Roslyn takes it, allowing herself to be helped up.

Another smooth move by this male as he uses the assistance to his advantage, drawing her close until the two of them are nearly in an embrace.

Roslyn’s eyes go wide, and wider still when he leans down and murmurs something into her ear that I can’t catch from this distance. Another pulse of color climbs her cheeks, stains her neck and chest a deep pink.

When the male pulls back, he’s staring down at her with all the tenderness in the universe shining in his eyes.

Besotted, I’m sure he appears to the cameras. Perhaps to Roslyn as well, though she doesn’t seem to be as starry-eyed as she drops her gaze to her feet and lets out another small, huffed laugh.

Undeterred, the male takes her hand in his and leads her back toward the beach.

After another murmured, close conversation I can’t hear from where I’m tailing them, they part. He looks back once over his shoulder as he heads into the pavilion, with a roguish grin no doubt meant to melt hearts and win admirers in the Mate Match audience.

And to charm Roslyn, of course.

Roslyn, however, stays right where she is, feet rooted to the sand for a few moments before she gives her head a sharp shake and turns on her heel to head in the opposite direction.

Perhaps back to her bungalow, or to explore more of the filming zone’s defenses, and I don’t spare even a moment’s hesitation before following.

She keeps to the sand, walking down the moonlit beach in front of the row of bungalows. I keep to the shadows, ducking behind structure after structure, staying out of sight.

With a brief tap on the heavy black comms band around my wrist, I send the remaining cameras following her away.

It barely took an hour to hack the custom-built device into the show’s hovercamera and security systems.

Hardly a challenge, given that the generally lax security protocols here extended to the networks. And why shouldn’t they, I suppose, when the threats on this planet are so low?

At least until now.

To anyone else, the band looks like a standard watch and comms device, but I’ve spent years designing it to be able to link up to a variety of systems. Security, weapons, even ship command consoles, if need be. It’s served me well on more than a dozen reconnaissance missions.

Still, using it here is a risk.

While producers don’t have eyes on every video feed at every minute of the day and night, making it too obvious the cameras are being diverted will draw attention I don’t want.

But I do want to see what Roslyn does when she thinks she doesn’t have any eyes on her. I want to see where she goes, what trouble she might get herself into.

Almost as soon as the cameras hover away, she takes note. Her body stiffens and her step falters as she realizes she’s alone, unwatched.

Slowly, she comes to a standstill on an open stretch of beach in the middle of two bungalows. She peers into the darkness around her, spinning to take in her surroundings.

It gives me the opportunity to get a better vantage point, to dart from one set of shadows to the next before she can—

“Enough.”

The sharp razor cut of Roslyn’s voice stops me dead in my tracks.

Hands balled into fists at her sides, shoulders squared, jaw held defiantly aloft, she stares down her unseen pursuer without a trace of fear or hesitation.

A begrudging smile tugs at one corner of my mouth.

There’s a fierceness to this little human. A foolishness, too, as she boldly demands my attention, but it’s a move I can’t help but respect.

“If you’re going to keep following me, you can at least have the decency to do it out in the open instead of skulking through shadows.”