Todays snippets are about UNusual settings, so I chose this short excerpt from TRANSPLANT, one of my Mavericks Of Space stories. It was previously published , years ago, and I’m editing and revising a bit right now so I can self-pub them right away with a nice new fab cover. CHeck them out.

Ghost touched down on terra firma and the group of Transplants— seven other humans and four Durians—lined up to exit the spaceship and head for the palace. They’d been instructed in what would happen next. They were led off the ship and herded a short distance down the main road toward the palace, where they would be displayed for the queen’s viewing before being taken to the Silver Wing of the palace. The men would be kept there until they could go on the market in hopes of finding a sponsor. If no Triton female chose to sponsor a male, he would become a Shen, a single man that would live within the palace as part of the queen’s harem. Even though the Triton’s didn’t call it a “harem,” that’s what it was; the unsponsored males basically became the studs for the queen’s social gatherings and guests.
It was so hot when they stepped off Ghost, Max wondered where the camels were kept. But as he looked around, he noticed no animals at all. As he walked with the group, Max observed the people making their way over the unpaved roads of Sather. About thirty-five percent were male— most of them human, but there were a couple of slim, dark skinned and very feminine looking men that he wasn’t sure of — and all of them were shirtless, dressed only in drawstring pants similar to his own.
For the most part, the Tritons wore filmy robes and wraps in every color of the rainbow. But as he scanned his surroundings, his natural self-preservation instincts came to the fore.
There were women stationed on several rock ledges above the city, on rooftops along the main road, and strategically placed along the streets that were dressed like Tyla and her crew. Skimpy leather armor barely covering their firm, athletic bodies, while the straps that held on their armor acted as belts for various knife sheaths and holsters. Some had swords, others had laser guns, and a few had both.
All had blank expressions on their faces as they kept their hands on their knife hilts or gun handles as they eyed the newcomers. They were clearly warrior class, just like his woman.
The entourage started up the steps and entered the spacious hall of the palace. Cushioned benches with soft, fluffy pillows lined the walls. People in various states of undress and closeness lounged indolently on the benches. At one point, Max passed a couple with the female lying back and a guy kneeling before her, his head buried between her spread thighs as he worked on her energetically.
There was no conversation amongst the crew or the Transplants as they walked. The hallow sound of their footsteps cut through the murmurs of the spectators.
If Max’s first sight of Sather had made him think, just for a second, that he’d gone back in time a millennium or two, what with the hard-packed sand, the unpaved streets, the unbelievable heat, then the sight of the Grand Room in the palace cinched the feeling. He felt as if he’d just stepped into the pages of a history book.
The Grand Room in the palace was exactly that…grand. Circular and large enough to rival a three-story parking garage on Earth, it had a high-domed ceiling with several round air holes spaced across it. Hyper aware of the increase in the heat and humidity since entering the palace, Max found it ironic that the Tritons had advance technology on their ships, yet no air conditioning in their dwellings.
At Tyla’s signal, the group stopped in the center of the room. The low murmur turned to complete silence.
What the hell?
His gaze landed on the woman on the raised dais in front of them. There was no denying the woman was Tyla’s mother. They could’ve been sisters, twins, except the queen lacked that almost magical spark that moved Tyla beyond pretty, to beautiful. In fact, she looked more like an Ice Queen than an alien queen.
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