The Syraquen Quota

Published by: eXtasy Books

Author : Gabriella Bradley

ISBN :978-1-4874-4391-7

Page :216

Word Count :63000

Publication Date :2026-02-06

Series : #

Heat Level :

Available Formats :

Category : , Science Fiction Romance , Science Fiction

BrandsExtasy Books
Product Code: 978-1-4874-4391-7

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To satisfy the Syraqueni’s human labor quotas, Elara Veyne is falsely accused, torn from her brother, and transported to a prison world where survival means allying with Jace Rowan, a hardened man whose trust is as dangerous as his touch.

Fifty years ago, the Syraqueni shattered Earth’s defenses and claimed the planet. To keep their new masters satisfied, governments filled their demand for human workers and satisfied their quota by first emptying the prisons. Then, they seize anyone unlucky enough to be accused of minor misdemeanors.

Elara Veyne is one of them. Torn from her brother on a false charge, she is shipped across the stars to Syraquen, where survival is a daily battle. Her only chance lies with Jace Rowan, a former undercover agent trapped in the same nightmare. Suspicious, scarred, and unbroken, Jace is the last man she expected to need…and the only one she cannot resist.

The morning began like any other in Honolulu.

Tourists spread towels across the sand, children shrieked in the surf, and fishermen cast their nets into the restless Pacific. Radios played songs, news anchors argued about politics, and even the strange lights in the sky, growing larger every week, were dismissed as satellites or secret weapons tests.

By noon, the sky darkened.

Not with storm clouds but with something vast and alien. Shadows stretched across the waves as spaceships blotted out the sun, their surfaces flowing like molten mirrors, angles shifting in ways the human mind could not follow. Geometry itself seemed to rebel against its own rules.

American jets clawed into the sky. Warships bristled along the coast, their missiles armed, and cannons thundered. For a breath, the island roared with human defiance.

Then it ended.

Light rippled across the alien hulls, and every weapon dissolved as though it had never been. Jets spiraled down in flames. Warships split and sank. The sea boiled under an invisible force.

Three minutes.

That was all it took to erase Earth’s strongest defenses.

Then the true strike came.

Energy lanced into the Pacific. Waves taller than towers rose and collapsed in fire and steam. Bridges snapped. Towers folded. Whole districts vanished in the rush of water. Families ran, but the ocean outran them. Parents clutched their children only to be swept away.

In less than a minute, Hawaii and all the other islands were gone.

Then came the voice.

It filled every screen, every radio, every device. A voice that was not a voice but a vibration in the bones, speaking in every tongue at once…

Submit. Serve. Or you will follow into the depths.

No one doubted. No one dared.

The days that followed were chaos. Governments faltered, then bent.

The first quotas of human slaves were met by emptying the prisons. From Rikers Island to Siberian camps, from overcrowded jails in South America to Europe’s detention centers. Every government unlocked its cells.

Murderers, thieves, dissidents…all were shackled and loaded into convoys that rumbled through city streets.

Crowds watched in silence. Soldiers marched, their weapons raised.

Cameras broadcast the process as politicians called it justice, a necessary sacrifice.

At the airports, stadiums, and fields, alien ships loomed like monuments to fear. Prisoners shuffled up the ramps under human guns, while alien guards stood motionless in the floodlights, their mirrored masks catching every flinch.

The transports swallowed thousands. None returned.

At first, the world accepted it. These were criminals, after all. But the prisons emptied quickly, and still the Syraqueni demanded more.

The definition of criminal stretched thin. Petty theft. Protest. Debt. Any offense that filled the quota. Soldiers dragged people from their homes in the dead of night, while neighbors shut their doors and whispered prayers that the next knock would not be on theirs.

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The Syraquen Quota

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