Chapter One Garon of Ralen neared the outer quadrant’s guard tower. The path to it was well-worn, unlike some of the other paths on Ralen. Regardless of how used the path was, the forests of Ralen were known to be fast-growing. The huge, deep blue of the leaves of the talium tree were starting to turn yellow on the ends, a sign of the season change coming upon them. Soon the area would see temperature drops. And soon enough the primal heat would be upon many of the men. Garon reached the tower and ascended the staircase. He entered to check in on the guards stationed there. They’d reported a craft on radar, and since no crafts were scheduled for arrival it had raised a red flag. Ralen wasn’t a planet offworlders dared to arrive at without proper protocol. The Ralen warriors were known to blow things out of the sky first and ask questions later. They were a proud, fierce race. A race known throughout the galaxy. He leaned over one of the males to survey the screen and grunted as he spotted the shape of the vessel nearing their orbit. Cursed stars. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with today. Lorne, a seasoned warrior and trusted friend, entered the guard tower. “I heard we have visitors. Any news on who or what they are?” Garon tapped the screen. “Looks to be a salvage ship.” “Or traders,” said Lorne, disgust evident. None of the men were too keen on the salvagers but traders weren’t much higher on the like scale. Both were basically pirates of the skies and tended to deal in goods that were too hot to touch. Since Ralen boasted a planet of fierce warriors, they were often left untouched by the Galactic Guards—free to do as they pleased. “Sir,” one of the men seated at his station said. “Should I alert the planet-to-air defense team?” It was on the tip of Garon’s tongue to say yes, but he held back. He glanced to Lorne. “It’s been too many moon cycles since we last had a shipment of women. Think it could be some?” Lorne worried his jaw and then tipped his head, his long, blond hair falling over one shoulder. “Perhaps. We could allow the vessel to land and see.” Garon nodded in agreement. He touched the man’s shoulder at the station. “Open the landing platform two.” He looked to Lorne. “It would be wise if an armed team greeted the vessel.” “Of course,” replied Lorne. “Jaston and his men are on duty now. I’ll send them.” “Perfect. Tell them we’ll meet them there.” Garon , Lorne said, using the mind path common to their kind. If women are aboard… I know. I will see to it any price is paid. With that Lorne pivoted and left the tower. Garon remained long enough to watch the slow descent of the vessel upon the screen before him. From its sluggish movements and shape he was fast beginning to suspect it was Voxenites, a race of opportunistic bottom feeders who did whatever they had to in order to turn a profit. They’d taken to human trafficking hundreds of years ago and little had been done to stop them. Truth was, planets such as Ralen depended upon them. Ralenium males far outnumbered females, and nothing the men did lured women willingly to their planet. They were simply too far out on the edges of the quadrants to offer any appeal. They weren’t proud of the fact. It was what it was. “Sir?” the man at the station asked. “Is it traders? With women?” There was no mistaking the note of hope in his voice. Galen patted the younger warrior’s shoulder. “Let us hope. Stay and man the station. Should it be traders with women, a summons shall be sent forth.” The other guards shared a look with the young one. Garon knew hopes would be high and he hated to dash them. The men needed something to look forward to. He left the tower and made his way down the path in the direction of the landing bays. The outer force field was in the process of retracting. Its opening would be timed perfectly with the vessel’s landing. While