Alien Primal's Prize: A Science Fiction Romance

Chapter One

Cress

“Cressida Porter, you’re done for the day.”

“I’m not finished.” I wipe the sweat from my brow and reach for the wrench once more. This isn’t a hard task. Simple maintenance on one of the air-cooling systems, a luxury on a voyage such as ours. I should be able to do this.

“Yes, you are.” Officer Moira bites the inside of her cheek. “You’re doing more harm than good there.”

“I’ve almost got it.”

“No, you haven’t. Haven’t you had any mechanical training?”

“No,” I frown.

“Then why are you fiddling with the cooling systems?”

“Because you assigned the tasks,” I sigh.

“How am I supposed to know the qualifications of each and every one of you? Unless you have doctor or some kind of science job next to your name, I know nothing.”

There wouldn’t be anything like that next to my name. There are exactly one thousand people aboard The Precursor. My guess is at least half of them come from a useful background. The rest of us were volunteers.

“How am I supposed to learn if I’m not allowed to finish my tasks to completion?” I say.

“What are you trying to learn for?” Moira looks me up and down. “You’re not going to the new colony with a profession. You’re essentially a breeder.”

I clench my jaw.

“I’m no such thing.”

“Whatever you say. Clock off for the night. I’ll try to assign you to work with someone more experienced next time.”

I’m not a damn breeder. I volunteered for this excursion because there’s nothing left for me anywhere else. We set off from Novaria yesterday. Maybe it was the day before last. It’s hard to keep track of time passing when there’s no sunrise or sunset. It’s still strange for me to wake up in the morning only to look out the window and see nothing but black pinpricked with stars.

The Precursor is a huge, slow-moving spacecraft that’s expected to make at least half a dozen stops before we enter the barren stretch to get to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. The goal was to colonize and defend one of the habitable planets in the Outer Rim. The Captain estimated it would take us around six months to make that journey.

Up until now, I’ve avoided space travel. With both parents dead and gone and all of my brother’s killed in combat against the Coalition, there’s nothing left for me to stick around for. I need a fresh start. A new colony is taking that need to the extreme, but hey, whatever works.

I leave the cooling unit to a qualified professional and sign my timesheet. Everyone on board gets a chance to earn a little extra income. It’s a way to jump-start the economy on whatever planet we end up settling. The powers that be who’ve approved this mission have provided funds for all the necessities, however, pocket change isn’t a necessity. I should’ve realized all of the jobs would require some kind of specialized skill.

I’m average at just about everything. That’s not a bad thing, in my opinion. I can manage everything that’s thrown at me, except tuning up a cooling unit. I’m fair at gardening, coding, first aid, and all manner of useful skills. I’m just not the best. The best are the ones who get the jobs. If I’d had known how things work ahead of time, I would’ve taken a course or something.

I make my way through the labyrinth of the ship. I get lost three times before finding the mess hall. The Precursor has three, but I prefer to use the one closest to my quarters. It minimizes the chance of getting lost. I’m sure I’ll master the layout eventually, though it may be time to disembark by the time I do so.

“Cress!” Merrit, my bunkmate and the closest thing I have to a friend on the ship waves me over. I grab a tray and pile it with food before joining them. The Captain warned us to enjoy the food while we have it. There’s a good chance we’ll be moved to rations before we make it to the Outer Rim. Once that happens, the next time we’ll have a normal meal depends on how long it takes us to grow it.

There is a level on The Precursor dedicated to agriculture, but the crops planted are not yet seedlings. It was too risky to bring grown plants and attempt to transfer them. We need as many healthy, living plants as possible.

Sitting at the table with Merrit are several other women I’ve come to know over the last day or so. I suspect we’ll become friends eventually. We’re too busy getting our bearings to focus on friendship right now.

“You’re late,” Rosalie says with a sly smile.

“I wasn’t aware I ate on a schedule,” I reply with a grin as I take my seat.

“You’re not, but you’ve missed all of the good gossip,” she shrugs.

“We’ve only been on this ship for two days, if that. How can there be gossip?”

“We’ve been on this ship for forty-two hours now,” Merrit says matter-of-factly. “That’s plenty of time for gossip to generate.”

“Lay it on me,” I nod.

“Vianne has a lover.”

“I do not!” Vianne protests. “I simply think Corporal Reddinbaker likes me.”

“And do you like him?’

Vianne levels Merrit with a blank look.

“Have you seen Corporal Reddinbaker? He looks like a bloated fish.”

I slap my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.

“That’s not very nice,” Rosalie sniffs.

“Neither is he,” Vianne scowls.

“Is that the only gossip worth sharing?” I say in an attempt to steer the conversation to a less prickly topic.

“No. Forty-two hours and we’re already bored out of our skulls,” Merrit sighs. “I hope we get some excitement soon.

“Officer Moira called me a breeder today. That’s sort of interesting,” I offer.

“It’s not interesting, it’s downright bitchy. What’s her problem?”

“She hoped to move up in rank when she signed on,” Rosalie replies. “She’s bitter about remaining an officer.”

“That’s no reason to call me a breeder,” I huff. “I didn’t sign on to birth the next generation.”

“But are you averse to it?” Vianne asks.

“No,” I shake my head. “But I’d like to do it when I’m ready with the right person, not because a colony is at risk of inbreeding. We have plenty of people to prevent that. Breeders aren’t necessary.”

“I dare her to say something like that to me,” Merit murmurs.

“Don’t go making a bad name for yourself before our first week is up,’ Rosalie cautions with a smile. “I’m sure the Captain will have no problem leaving you at our first stop.”

“He’ll have to find me first,” Merrit grins. “This is a big ship. There are plenty of places to hide.”

I roll my eyes and finish my late bite of food.

“I’m going to turn in for the night, ladies,” I say with a smile. “See you tomorrow?”

“Don’t be late,” Rosalie says.

“I’ll come with you.” Merrit pushes away from the table. “I’m planning to get up extra early to snag a good job.”

“You’re an engineer. Shouldn’t all the jobs open to you be good?” I ask.

“We haven’t been en voyage long enough for The Precursor to need any engineering work,” she shrugs. “I won’t be useful until we hit that final stretch to the Outer Rim. Until then, it’s toilet cleaning and dishwashing for me.”

We make our way back to our room. One thing I’ve noticed about Merrit is that she can fall asleep in just over a minute. I’m not that lucky. Best case scenario, it takes me an hour to fall asleep. Since The Precursor is a new place, it’s been taking me longer. Tonight is no exception.

I toss and turn, unable to keep my eyes closed for more than a few minutes at a time. I want to get up and wander the ship but I don’t want anyone asking questions. The Precursor doesn’t yet feel like home enough for me to stroll freely like that.

Suddenly, the ship lurches so violently that I’m thrown against the wall our bunk is pressed against.

“What the fuck?” Merrit groans.

The Precursor lurches again, this time in the opposite direction. I’m flung from the top bunk and land hard on the floor.

“What’s going on?” I cry.

Before Merrit can answer, the emergency alarm blares throughout the ship, drowning out all other noise.

“We have to get to a safe-room,” Merrit screams over the squeal of the sirens.

We stumble out of the room together. Dozens of people pour into the corridors, all scrambling for a safe-room. Merrit and I find one, but it’s already stuffed to the gills. There’s no room for us. The next one we reach is shut and locked. Horrified faces of those lucky enough to make it inside peer out at us through the small viewport.

“Go to the port side,” Merrit tells me. “I’ll go starboard. We’ll have better luck if we split up.”

I nod and run hell for leather toward the opposite side of the ship. Many run with me. It dawns on me that there might not be enough safe-rooms to hold us all.

I pass by a panel of windows. The view outside stops me in my tracks. There are ships all around us. I recognize the mark of the Alliance on some of them. The rest are dark ships of the Coalition. We must’ve drifted right into a battle by mistake.

The Precursor isn’t a war vessel. It’s neither speedy nor streamlined. The navigation team must be trying their hardest to bring her around before she takes on any damage. Merrit might be getting a job after all.  

The sky fills with fire as explosions go off between the stars. This isn’t just a skirmish. This is as bad as it gets.

Blinding white light eats away at the blackness of space but before I can determine its source, another explosion goes off, much closer to us this time. It’s powerful enough to tip The Precursor.

I can’t linger any longer. A third explosion, more violent than the first two combined, sends a shockwave rippling through space. It tears through the war vessels nearest to it. I have to get somewhere safe before it strikes The Precursor.

I realize I’m alone in the corridors. All of the safe-rooms in sight are locked up.

I duck into the nearest room. It’s nothing more than a storage closet. I spy a long, metal box that would ordinarily be used for storing weapons but has been repurposed for the farming supplies we’ll eventually need. I throw the supplies out and climb in. Look up from my back, the box eerily resembles a coffin.

I shake the thought away and pull the box shut. The latches automatically click into place.

The shockwave hits, or I assume it does. I’m thrown against the side of the box. The box slams into the wall. Somehow, I’m tumbling and floating all at once. My bones bark in protest as they’re slammed into the sides of the box again and again. My head strikes the reinforced siding hard. I’m slammed by something outside the box.

I can’t help but scream. I keep screaming, through the pain, through the uncertainty, and through the fear. I scream until everything goes black.