“Dibs?” I ask.
“When you say, ‘I get the front seat,’ that’s calling dibs.” She shakes her head as we approach the opposite end of the spaceport. “Dibs are inherently unfair. Seating should be decided by each individual’s needs.” She pauses and sizes up the two of us. “Khesan, you are taller, so you should have the front seat.”
Perfect. I will get to sit close to her on our journey, and Shathar will be relegated to the back. Clearly, Shathar doesn’t like this, but he bites his tongue.
We wander the asphalt lot for some time before Fiona locates her vehicle. “A-ha!”
“This will be plenty big enough,” Shathar says, patting the side. He shoots me one more glare as Fiona opens our doors to show us how they work, and I hop into the front seat.
It is an interesting method of travel, this land-based car. At home on Arshur, we ride a chariska, large animals who run on two legs, or else take a hovercraft. Hovercraft are very expensive, so only a few families—like mine—have them.
I should probably learn how to drive one of these cars.
Shathar grunts in irritation as he climbs into the back seat, and then we’re off. Fiona chews her bottom lip as she drives, navigating carefully around corners and through intersections. She has a steadiness about her that I like already.
“So, tell me about yourselves?” she asks, glancing sideways at me. “Khesan?”
Oh, am I happy to be asked this question.
“I come from a good family. We are known on Arshur for the size of our lands.”
Fiona arches a brow. “You’re rich?”
“I suppose. I joined the military a few years ago because the family name was stifling. Wanted to see more of the world and learn how to defend myself.” I turn to her. “To protect my future mate.”
Shathar scoffs from the back seat.
“What?” I demand, glancing at him. “Something you would like to say?”
“It is exactly what a military male would say. True strength isn’t in the ability to fight, though. It is in the ability to provide and care for your mate.”
I scoff in return. “Military service provides for all of these needs.”
Shathar says nothing, but his lips press together into a knowing smile. I don’t like that at all.
“Is there a lot of war on your planet?” Fiona asks, eyes widening.
“Our military is ornamental,” Shathar pipes up in the back seat, and I shoot him a glare. He continues. “Our country does not need protection, but we maintain it anyway. A waste of money and bodies, when they are needed to work fields and build homes.”
I seethe under the surface of my skin. I have heard all these things before.
“It is about service,” I snap. “Learning to protect, to care for others’ needs above yours, to make sacrifices for the greater good.”
It was, perhaps, selfish of me to leave the service to attend to my own needs. But that life had lost its meaning for me. What is the point of protecting if you have no one to protect?
Fiona lets out a thoughtful sound. “That makes sense. You are still learning useful skills even if you have no one to fight. Your world sounds nice.”
“Arshur has its positive qualities,” I say, turning my head to peer out the window at the trees going by, which are merely sticks. “It is mostly desert, though, and there are few places where we can work the land. As a result, our population remains small. It is… difficult to find a mate.”
Shathar does not argue with me. At least we can agree on the reason we came to Earth—to search for a mate when there are so few readily available at home. To find forever with someone.
“Oh, I get it.” Fiona’s smile is lovely. “Is that why you both did the Matching Program?”
I nod. “Similar plight as your own world. There are very few choices, and I am looking for something… permanent. Many females my own age on Arshur are not ready yet.”
Fiona’s cheeks redden. “You are just ahead of them in maturity. That happens sometimes.”
“An inexperienced male,” Shathar says in the back seat. “Why did you not seek a mate older than you?”
