Maxim, Governor of Base 3, Prillon Colony Planet, Sector 901

      The crush of heavy combat boots filled the narrow hallway with a loud, clomping sound. My steps were eager, too eager, and yet I could not force myself to slow my pace as I hurried to the communications center. Warden Egara, the female in charge of The Colony’s new Interstellar Brides Processing center on Earth, waited to speak to me. I had to assume she had news, news of a matched mate for one of the soul-weary soldiers under my command. News those of us condemned to live out our lives on The Colony very much needed to hear.

      “Ryston.” I nodded, my expression grim as my chosen Second, Captain Ryston Rayall, my friend and brother-in-arms for many years, fell into step beside me. Covered head to toe in the mottled black-and brown-armor of a Prillon warrior, I was both relieved and worried by his presence.

      “I hear there is news from Earth.” His expression was grim. Despite the pale golden color of his hair and eyes, his gaze was dark. Rejected by his family after his rescue, he’d become a shadow of his former self. Mean. Bitter. Reckless and unpredictable. Bad news would not improve his temperament nor his current mood.

      “I am on my way, brother. Patience. I do not yet know what Warden Egara will say.” I thumped him on the shoulder in affection. He was my most trusted friend and closest ally on this base. I would trust no other with a mate, despite his recent sullenness. He was a fierce fighter, honorable to the core. I had no doubt a female’s sweet touch could banish the darkness from his heart and bring my friend back to life.

      “She is probably going to tell you that none of you fuckers have a match and we’re all fools for hoping.” His growl was full of pain, but he could not hide his hope from me. If he did not hope, he would not have rushed to be at my side to hear the news from Earth.

      “That would imply that I am not perfect, Ryston. We both know that is not the case.”

      Ryston’s soft chuckle was his only response, but some of the tension drained from my shoulders and neck. It was good to face whatever might come with Ryston at my back. As Governor of Base 3, it was my duty to set an example for the other contaminated warriors here. All good men, the warriors on The Colony had served their planets well, fought the Hive menace and suffered at the enemies’ hands. Everyone on The Colony carried the scars of that fight, for what the Hive captured, they tried to make their own. Hive Integration Units tortured Coalition fighters, converting them into new machines for the Hive to deploy, new Hive-controlled soldiers, walking weapons. Those of us lucky enough to survive and return to our units with our minds intact were sentenced to a fate that, for some, was worse than death—banishment. For as advanced as the Interstellar Coalition’s technology had become, there were still things that could not be undone.

      Microscopic cybernetic implants, living cyborg flesh, optical implants, brain stem filaments, enhanced muscle fibers, artificial intelligence that merged with our bodies on a cellular level, with our very DNA. For centuries, Coalition fighters rescued from Hive Integration Units were simply executed. But nearly sixty years ago, Prime Nial’s father had established The Colony, where contaminated warriors could live out their lives safely and away from potential Hive interference or control. Away from those untainted.

      Safety was highly overrated. The Colony became more a prison than a mercy, warriors doomed to live out their lives without hope of a home or a mate, fighting a never-ending battle to live a life filled with purpose, with honor. Few women fought in the Fleet. Fewer still were captured by the hive. For those females who were captured and survived, they ended up here as well. But they were so few, so very rare, that a man could go months or years without ever setting eyes on female flesh. We were feared by our own people, and forgotten by the other planets, by those we sacrificed so much to protect. Forgotten until the other worlds began sending their warriors here as well.

      Now the contaminated fighters banished to The Colony world included Atlan Warlords, Trion and Viken fighters, as well as Prillon warriors, and, recently a handful of human fighters from Earth. Divided into eight bases, The Colony was ruled by eight Governors and one Prime. Governors were chosen by election. If no clear winner emerged the selection process followed the traditions of Prillon Prime, where leaders were selected by battle and blood. The strongest ruled. The strongest led by example.

      As I must now. As Governor of Base 3, it was my mate testing that everyone was eagerly, and warily, watching. If there were no mates for the strongest of us, then there was no hope for the others.

      And so, when Prince Nial became Prime, The Colony buzzed with renewed life, with hope. For the new Prime of our home world was contaminated himself. Despite his imperfections, he’d found a beautiful and submissive mate, a mate strong enough to accept his claim in the battle arena on Prillon Prime, witnessed by millions. Like the others, I’d watched on a live vid broadcast as Prime Nial and his second, Ander, claimed her body on the bloodied battlefield like warriors of old.

      My cock stirred at the memory. For Prince Nial and his bride, Lady Jessica Deston, had visited The Colony shortly before that final battle. Lady Deston was a warrior herself, and had spoken harshly of Prillon’s policies. She’d vowed to help the contaminated find mates. She’d given us a new name—veterans—and claimed we deserved honor and respect. She’d given all of us courage. And she’d followed through on her vows, accepting her contaminated mate in front of millions.

      Warden Egara from Earth contacted The Colony just days later about beginning the Interstellar Brides Program protocols for our warriors. I’d been the third warrior processed, an experience I remembered little of other than waking with a sense of loss and a cock so hard it felt like iron in my hands.

      Like the other governors and a handful of highly respected warriors here, I had submitted to the program’s testing several weeks ago. Though I could not believe any female would accept a damaged warrior such as myself for a mate, I could not stop my heart from racing in my chest at the summons I answered now.

      If any Colony warrior had been matched, then there would be hope for matches for all of us. The battle-scarred warriors banished to live out their lives here desperately needed a bit of hope.

      We rounded the corner to find everyone in the comm station waiting with a suffocating silence. The warden’s words could either save us, or doom everyone on the planet.

      On the large screen at the front of the room Warden Egara’s lovely face filled the entire space. But there were deep creases beneath her eyes and a darkness in the gray depths I’d not seen before. “Warden Egara. Greetings. It is our pleasure to see you again.” The Warden had recently traveled to The Colony to complete the initial rounds of testing and we’d had to keep her under lock and key, practically a prisoner. Her presence made the unmated males on the planet eager to claim her.

      “Governor Rone. I wish I could say the same.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as if bracing herself before she spoke. “Maxim, I need your help.”

      My hands were in fists at my sides before I could control my reaction. “Anything, my lady.” Beside me, Ryston’s shoulders were tense, his hand resting on the ion blaster at his side. The room was blanketed in silence. A female in distress—even light years away across the universe—made every man in the room remember instincts so basic and primal that we would have been growling had we not wanted to frighten her.

      But then, she’d been mated to two Prillon warriors. Perhaps our aggression would comfort rather than scare her.

      “It’s not for me.” Her eyes darted from me to Rytson and back again. “It’s for someone else. A bride. A Colony bride.”

      The news made my heart race.