“Mindy? Can you hear me?”
The voice is distant, muffled like it’s underwater. My eyelids feel like they’re made of stone, too heavy to lift, and my body won’t cooperate. I hear my name, but it barely registers.
“Humans take much longer to wake from Kip Sleep,” another voice says, calmer. “Give her a moment, Jukar.”
“She looked like she might be dead for a moment.”
“That’s how all humans look when they sleep.”
“I dunno, some toss and turn. My cousin was a main researcher on their species and he said—”
I groan, cutting off the conversation like a record scratch. Instantly, the room goes quiet. I feel the tension in the air shift, like they’re holding their collective breath.
I force my eyes open. At first, everything’s blurry as four massive blobs lean over me, but with a few hard blinks, the shapes sharpen into semi-familiar faces. The shining bronze skin, the towering frames, the otherworldly eyes. Yep. Still the sexy aliens.
I glance down and realize I’m lying on some kind of medical bed. The room around me has that sterile-but-futuristic vibe, like TV’s depictions of a medbay, though with many more plants hanging around the machinery.
It hits me out of nowhere: cedar and vanilla, but not quite. Something richer. Deeper. Something I’ve never smelled before, but instantly love. It wraps around me like invisible silk, slipping into my lungs, sinking into my skin.
I stare at the four men still looming nearby.
The doubt begins to creep inside. Though the incredulousness of the situation makes me try hard to stay in the mindset that the pizza I ate last night right before bed might have been older than I thought, giving me some kind of food poisoning induced dream of epic proportions.
“We are just approaching the Docks of Gulta,” a voice crackles over the loudspeaker, jarring me slightly.
I blink, sitting up straighter on the medbed. The sound reminds me of the moment this all started, back in my room, in the middle of the night. For half a second, I hesitate.
I focus on what’s in front of me.
““I thought the planet was called… Nulyma? Or something like that?”
“Nulamore,” Jukar corrects, now practically glued to my side. “That’s the name of our planet. The Docks of Gulta are just one of many docking stations scattered across its surface. This one happens to be the main dock.”
I feel ridiculous asking questions like I know anything about interplanetary infrastructure, but if I’m going to write the best dream-inspired sci-fi novel of the year, I need details. Dream logic or not.
“The Docks of Gulta are special because the Yuai Mate Matcher is located here,” he explains, like it’s common knowledge. “You will most likely be matched within the hour. And I can assure you, we are all waiting in anticipation to see which Yuai Mate is bonded with the first human.”
“You will see very soon, Mindy Hulton.”
“O.K. Cool. So… I just follow you then?”
I trail after the four towering aliens, their footsteps heavy and steady as we walk through a sleek corridor toward a staircase leading down from the ship. Every step I take seems to wake me up a little more, like my brain is finally catching up.
And then I see it.
The city.
Bustling. Towering. Unfamiliar. The skyline is a blend of sharp, elegant spires and glowing panels, with plants scattered and intertwined all throughout. Glowing alien signs blinking in soft hues I’ve never seen before as far my eyes can process in the moment. The air itself smells electric, charged, and something else too: spicy, metallic, and sweet like flowers.
The reality of it all finally hits me in the face like a brick.
This isn’t a dream.
“Oh, fuck me.”
“PARDON?” Jukar blurts, his purple eyes wide with shock.
“This… this isn’t a dream, is it?”
“A dream?” he repeats. “If you mean a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person’s mind during sleep, then no. If you mean a cherished aspiration, ambition, or ideal… then yes. To some extent.”
“I meant the former,” I mutter, dazed.
My heart races. I feel stupid. Who follows four strange alien men right out of their bedroom and onto another planet? How am I not murdered? Or eaten? Or enslaved? Or worse?
“This way, Mindy.”
I really wish I had, due to my lack of decision-making skills and inability to stand up for myself.
We head down a long walkway toward a strange four-story building shaped like a black, tiered cake, each level smaller than the one beneath it. The double doors open automatically, and I’m hit with a cool wave of clean air. It smells like fresh laundry, but crisper. Manufactured comfort.
Inside, the space is open and bright, the furniture strange but clearly meant for lounging. One piece catches my eye: five connected circles like petals, with a tall, curving back that’s soft and shimmery like pearl velvet. Weirdly elegant.
I almost sit down, but before I can test the alien upholstery, the wall to my left opens. Another bronze god of a man steps out, this one wearing what looks like a lab coat.
“Hello! Mindy Hulton! I see you’ve arrived safe and sound.”
“Uh… yeah. Thanks.”
“The machine is warmed up and ready!” he announces cheerfully. “We’re so excited to see the outcome of its use on a human.”
“Is it… safe?”
“Oh yes, perfectly. The first prototype was a disaster, but this one is so much more promising!”
My gaze darts around the room, scanning for doors, hiding spots, exits. Anything. The idea of being someone’s guinea pig makes my stomach twist. All I see are aliens and floating orbs surrounding.
“Please don’t be afraid,” he adds quickly. “We would not have flown you so far or used so many precious resources if we intended to harm you.”
He gestures again, and somehow, I’m already moving. My legs betray me, carrying me forward like they’re no longer taking orders from me. The scent in the room, combined with their presence, is disorienting. I feel… floaty. Warm.
“Perfect. This way.”
The new room is round and taller than it looks, but more compact overall. My eyes go straight to the center: a gleaming, egg-shaped machine standing at least fifteen feet tall. Sleek. Ominous. It looks like it belongs in some futuristic art museum, not a matchmaking lab.
The scientist strolls over and presses something I can’t even see. A soft hiss escapes as the front panel slides open. Inside, it’s smooth and metallic, curved like the inside of a cocoon. Two screens light up, one on the far wall, the other angled slightly outward at waist height.
“This is the Yuai Mate Matcher,” he says proudly. “It reads your biological, neurological, hormonal, and emotional frequencies, then pairs you with the most compatible match from the active Mate Bank.”
“Right. Totally normal,” I mutter under my breath.
He grins. “The technology is sophisticated, yes—but it requires a catalyst to function. A living element to initiate the match process.”
Before I can ask what he means, he walks to a small recessed drawer in the wall. With extreme care, he removes a glowing plant enclosed in a glass pod. Its petals look like satin, a soft silver-pink, and the stem pulses faintly with light, almost like it’s breathing.
“This is a Liari bloom,” he says. “It’s native only to Nulamore. Without it, the machine cannot access the depth of your energy signature. It connects emotion to essence.”
He places the pod inside a small compartment on the side of the machine. The glow intensifies. The air changes—warmer, slightly charged, like the seconds before a summer storm.
“Yes!” he beams. “Now you understand.”
“If you would just step right in, we can finally make history.”
I glance around. They’re all still watching. Still smiling. Still way too attractive for my sense of self-preservation to kick in properly. Though, really, I’ve always had a hard time standing up for myself, no matter the level of hotness of the person goading me.
So, naturally, I step inside.
The door closes behind me with a soft click, sealing me in. The larger screen lights up first, displaying a pulsing light, like a heartbeat. Then the smaller one glows blue with soft instructions:
My hand hovers over it.
“Well,” I whisper, heart thudding.
“Here goes nothing.”
