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“You don’t have to like it, Striker,” Cleo said, “but we’re all out of ideas. This way, we could make the trade without firing any shots.”

“Of course shots will be fired. The second the Gente know what we’re doing, they’ll attack,” Striker said. “The women will get caught in the crossfire.”

“You make it sound like we don’t know one end of a weapon from the other.” Sloane arched an eyebrow. “You think we’ll be too busy filing our nails to put up a fight?”

His scowl deepened. “I know you can take care of yourselves, but—”

“You sound jumpy,” Rexx said. “Anyone would think you’re personally invested in this mission.” His gaze flicked to Wren.

“I am. We should all be. And it could be your partner whose in the firing line for a trade,” Striker said. “Think about that. It might make you less smug.”

Rexx grunted.

“We can take care of ourselves,” Daisy said. “We’ve been through basic training. We wouldn’t be on this ship if we didn’t know how to defend ourselves if things go wrong.”

“I’m not saying you can’t. But you won’t stand a chance when faced with a troop of armed Gente determined to impregnate you the second they get their hands on you.”

“Striker, it won’t come to that.” Wren rested a hand on his arm, not caring who saw. “The animals they have on their ship are vital to our preservation role. This is what our work is all about. If we do this and make a successful trade, we’ll have enough animals to increase several viable breeding populations. We have to do this.”

“I know what our mission focus is, Wren,” he said. “I still don’t like this.”

“I don’t love it, but it’s the best option we’ve got,” Cleo said. “There is a risk, I agree with Striker on that, but it’s worth taking.”

“It isn’t.” He slumped back in his seat.

Cleo narrowed her eyes at him before turning her attention to the rest of the group. “I need three volunteers. We have to make this realistic. The three women to be fake traded need to be reproductively fertile.”

“I’m in,” Sloane said. “My mama had six babies and always said the females in our family could get pregnant at the sight of a gorgeous guy with a big smile and a twinkle in his eye.”

A glimmer of sadness entered Cleo’s eyes. She shook her head. “Not you, Sloane. You’re needed here.”

Sloane’s easy smile vanished. She clicked her teeth. “Whatever you say, boss.”

“I don’t mind showing those arrogant alien bastards what I’m made of.” Daisy raised her hand.

Rexx stiffened and shot her a glare.

“Same here,” Eden said.

“And me,” Wren said. “This was my idea, after all. I want to be one of the women who’s traded.”

***

A fiery rage burned through Striker as he stared open-mouthed at Wren. “You can’t be in this trade.”

Her expression hardened as she looked at him. “I can’t propose something like this and not go through with it myself.”

“No. I won’t let you.”

Rexx grunted. “Wren’s her own woman. Frustratingly, they make decisions about putting themselves in danger.” Although he was speaking to Striker, he was looking at Daisy.

Striker shoved his seat back and stood. “We’ll re-work the problem. Find another way to get those animals. We could set explosives on the hull of the Gente ship, blow a hole, and grab the animals. Or try the stealth ship approach. There has to be another way.”

Cleo shook her head and stood from her own seat. “This is the option we’re going for. Wren, Eden, and Daisy, go get tested in the lab; make sure everything is good for the trade. I reckon the Gente will expect evidence of your viability before they accept you. We don’t need any screw ups.”

“For fuck’s sake! Why aren’t you listening to me?” Striker slammed his fist on the table. “We’re not trading our women.”

“Easy, big guy,” Blaze said. “We’ll watch their back. We’ll know if the Gente try anything.”