Alien's Treasure: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance Read online

  Alien’s Treasure

  Outlaw Planet Mates

  Elin Wyn

  Contents

  The World of Outlaw Planet Mates

  Gir

  Kyla

  Gir

  Kyla

  Gir

  Kyla

  Gir

  Kyla

  Gir

  Kyla

  Gir

  Kyla

  Epilogue: Kyla

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  About the Author

  The World of Outlaw Planet Mates

  Reazus Prime is a hard planet. Once a prison, it was abandoned once the mines dried up and the Overlords could no longer turn a profit off the prisoners. Now it’s a haven for outlaws, pirates, and anyone holding a grudge against authority.

  It’s isolated, alone, and the only ships coming are the worst sort. One such ship carrying a cargo of abducted human women, explodes in orbit. A lucky few were ejected in pods, only to crash on the outlaw planet.

  Now the race is on to find and claim the human females…

  Gir

  Tightening my muscles, I sprang through the jungle from branch to branch. My occupation as a treasure hunter had brought me to many different worlds, but this was definitely not one of my favorites.

  Not that in general I had a problem with a planet full of outlaws, rogues and criminals, but at the moment my plans didn’t involve dealing with anyone else.

  Call me greedy.

  Part of that whole ‘treasure hunter’ deal, I’m sure.

  This uninhabited section of the continent was hot and humid, and it seemed as though bugs wanted to burrow under my fur, straight into my flesh.y

  I landed on a thick branch and flicked my ears to dislodge a particularly annoying stinging insect.

  Reaching for my belt, I toggled a small personal force field. This particular force field was one I’d picked up in a marketplace two hunts ago. It was small and had a low yield – not strong enough to stop a fast-moving object like a ballistic weapon that some of the primitive planets wielded, and it might’ve only turned away a glancing blow of a blade.

  No, this force field’s most important and valuable function was the ability to repel insects.

  I pressed it and a low hum filled my ears. Slightly annoying, but something I’d learn to dismiss after a few minutes. The batteries didn’t last long and I’d have to turn it off and allow the device to recharge once night came.

  However, the days here were long. If luck was with me, I wouldn’t be on this planet come nightfall.

  I heard a low-key ding between my ears, then through my implant came the professionally concerned voice of my AI.

  “Is everything okay, Gir?”

  “Yes, of course it is.”

  My AI was relentless. “I’ve detected the activation of your personal force field. Are you in any danger?”

  “You’re my AI, not my mother.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  I once had a partner who’d called my AI the equivalent of a nanny bot. It wasn’t a direct translation from his species, but close enough.

  I’d always reduce the settings so the AI wouldn’t be as annoyingly worried about me. That way, it wouldn’t have the ability to check in on me at random times. But it was nice to pretend somebody else cared, even if it was annoying and was actually a computer function only following its programming.

  I’d been lonely for a long time. I’d learned to deal with it.

  “I’m fine,” I repeated, annoyed but secretly pleased, then aggravated at myself all over again. I shouldn’t have to rely on an AI computer system to check in on me.

  Wasn't that the duty of one’s mate?

  Ah, but in order to acquire a mate, I’d first have to slow down enough to court one. I was busy and although I’d had some relationships, nothing had been serious. My constant travel wasn’t appealing to a potential mate from my species.

  I glanced up at the sky. The thick jungle had an overabundance of chlorophyll, which seemed to permeate the air. As a result, the sky held a greenish cast to it, interacting oddly with the blueish sun.

  I squinted, looking up in vain for the slight glimmer that’d indicate my ship. It was parked in a stationary orbit and should’ve been directly overhead, but try as I might, I couldn’t see it.

  Perhaps it was something to do with the many moons.

  “What’s going on up there?” I asked, knowing the force field wasn’t the sole reason why the AI had reached out to me.

  “The designated orbital shift will occur in ten galactic minutes,” the AI said. Was it my imagination, or had it actually sounded a bit frustrated I’d forgotten about that?

  No, it had to be my imagination.

  I cursed under my breath.

  In ten minutes, my ship would break out of its geosynchronous orbit and fly off under the AI's direction. Then it’d pass behind the sun, seemingly on a path that’d take it out of the solar system altogether.

  The reason why it would do so was threefold: First and most importantly, it’d throw any competing treasure hunters off my trail. It’d give the appearance I’d searched the planet, found nothing, and moved on. Anyone following me would be led away.

  I’d grown quite a reputation for myself over my last few scores. I knew for a fact there were less successful hunters watching my moves closely.

  The second reason was because having your ship stay stationary in space was like waving a giant flag for any scavenger looking to add your ship to their collection.

  A moving ship was much harder to locate and capture. They wouldn’t realize it was completely empty and they’d assume I was on board, ready to fight for my ship and my freedom. Most of the time, it just wasn't worth the effort.

  And third, I really, really didn’t want anyone else on the planet getting curious as to what I was doing down here.

  “Of course, I hadn’t forgotten,” I lied irritably to the AI.

  The AI paused for a few galactic seconds. I didn't think I’d read into it too much. It’d definitely displayed its disbelief. “Then are you close to finding the obelisk?”

  I growled under my breath and reached into my pocket to pull out a round pendant. It wasn’t large – the size of a timepiece my father, who loved old-fashioned things, used to carry in his pocket.

  The pendant was a dark jet-black stone and etched on it was a representation of the obelisk I was searching for.

  “I’ll locate it soon enough.”

  The AI's reply was crisp. “Do you need assistance?”

  “It depends. Have you verified the that latest scans show the starting point?”

  “Affirmative.”

  I shrugged. “Then there's nothing more you need to do. Searching for this obelisk is just a matter of following the dots, easy as falling off a Prolixian log.”

  Again, the AI paused for an extended period of time. I was just about to check the connection before it spoke again.

  “Your ship is due to break orbit in T minus 2.56 galactic minutes.”

  “Well, don't wait around on my account.”

  “Once the ship leaves orbit, you’ll be out of communication range or assistance, should you need it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Keep my ship safe. I'll do my part here on the surface. When you return, I'll have the treasure in hand.”

  “Then tradition dictates I wish you good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  Seriously, I knew perfectly well that the AI had only responded as
programmed.

  Its actual conversations were formed from a tree of programmed responses.

  But still, I couldn't help but feel good about it.

  I really needed to get out more.

  “Good luck to you and keep my ship safe for my return.”

  “Affirmative,” the AI responded.

  I cut off the communication, ignoring the pang of regret.

  After all was said and done, I had to seriously look into making some new friends.

  The only real conversation I’d had in weeks was with my own AI system. That was sad.

  Shaking my head, I ran along the length of the branch and jumped into the air.

  My species were natural climbers and jumpers. I’d be able to cross more of a distance in one leap than most could sprint in the same number of seconds.

  I hit the trunk of the next massive tree, digging my claws in, and scaled up to the next large branch. When I got there, I ran along its length, using it as a sturdy pathway.

  I wasn’t afraid of heights, knowing that when my people fell, we always landed on our feet.

  Thanks to the force field, the bugs had finally left me alone. But there wasn’t anything I could do about the heat and humidity, that made my fur itch.

  After an hour of hard running, pausing only to check the dots on the map, I found what I was looking for.

  There it was: the obelisk, rising from the jungle floor.

  I’d traversed this section of the jungle for some time, and it was the first created artifact I’d seen.

  It was as jet-black as my pendant, rising straight and true nearly twenty meters from the jungle floor. Vegetation had been cleared around it in a large circle, and some aspect of the obelisk kept it from growing back.

  Interesting.

  From this vantage point, looking down at the obelisk, I identified several markings on it. I stared for a moment, cocking my head in consideration. From that angle, I couldn’t read the markings, not even enough to tell what language they were in.

  There were plenty to choose. I wasn’t fluent in all of them – you’d have to be an AI. But after a lifetime of hunting, I could recognize most.

  The jungle was silent, with no hint that I’d been followed, so far.

  I took a step, intending to drop off the side of the branch and fall all the way down to the forest floor. A ping from a sixth sense made me stop in place.

  I whipped around, my ears swiveling back and forth trying to identify sounds, the hair along my spine rising as my instincts screamed at me that something wasn’t right.

  Finally, my mind caught what my senses had been trying to tell me. There was a high-pitched whistling noise in the air, and it’d only grown louder.

  Once I became aware of it, I was able to pinpoint it. I looked up to see a burning streak — a meteor?

  No. As the object drew closer, I realized it wasn’t a meteor, not even ship debris. It was too regular, and oval shaped.

  An escape pod?

  I barely had time to come to that conclusion before I realized the pod had dropped from the sky and was headed straight toward me.

  Of all the bad luck!

  Immediately, I jumped to the next branch, then the next, trying to get out of the trajectory of the descending pod.

  But it fell shockingly fast. And I realized with horror it wouldn’t land on me at all.

  No, in fact, it was aimed straight for the obelisk.

  “No!” I yelled, but completely powerless to do anything about it.

  The sound of the descending out-of-control pod grew into a scream of air as a plume of fire lit from behind it.

  It crashed straight into the obelisk, sending it toppling over into pieces on the ground.

  Kyla

  All my life, I’d been plagued by anxious dreams, the type where you arrive at a classroom naked or have to sit down to take a test you’d never prepared for.

  Or, after I grew up a little, I used to dream of returning to a hated job and having to log into a computer system where you didn't know the password and were under a time crunch, stuff like that.

  The thing about those dreams? Some part of me always knew they weren't real. It was always a relief to wake up and escape them, but not a surprise.

  This time… This time was different.

  Not only was I unsure what was real and what wasn't, but the dreams also seemed to stretch on and on. It felt like I’d drifted in and out for weeks… but that couldn't be possible.

  In my dreams, I’d worked my real-life job as an assistant in a small publishing house.

  Being a grunt meant I got to do all the dirty work. That meant going through the slush pile — an industry term for reading through manuscripts submitted by hopeful writers. It would seem like a dream, especially for someone like me, who loves to read.

  But the dirty little secret was that most of the hopeful authors submitted incorrectly formatted work with… extremely questionable uses of the English language. That was if they hadn’t mailed outright insane manifestoes. I got my share of those, too.

  And sometimes the cover letter was written in crayon.

  The way my particular publishing house worked was I received a cut of every good selling book that’d made it up the ranks. It was a great idea in theory, but a bad one in execution.

  Not only did I have to find a worthwhile story in a literary pile of crap, but if it didn't sell well on the market, I’d also be out some much-needed money.

  In my dreams—or were they reality? I couldn't tell anymore. My memory seemed to fade in and out, punctuated by things which couldn’t be real.

  Anyway, in my dreams, I went through one manuscript after the other, frantically searching, searching, searching for any hint of something that could be pounded into publishable shape.

  Did this person submit their manuscript in wingdings?

  I blinked and looked outside. The San Francisco skyline had gone as dark as it did every evening with the bright city lights illuminating the foggy air. I blinked my tired eyes, then reached up to rub the bridge of my nose.

  Was it ten o'clock already? I could’ve sworn it was only six a couple of minutes ago, and I’d just thought about taking a break. But then I became obsessed with finding that one good manuscript…

  I had to get home. My office was okay, but I didn’t want to make the trip home too late at night.

  Shoving the thick pile of manuscripts into my huge tote bag, I packed up and headed home.

  Even then, I couldn't help myself and plucked out a manuscript at random to read on the bus ride back to my cramped little studio apartment.

  The best I’d say about this one was that it was written in English.

  But… it appeared to be a philosophical tome about herding cows, when we were a romance publishing company.

  “Yee haw,” I muttered to myself, slipping the manuscript to the bottom of the bag.

  Once I got home, I made myself some cereal — the dinner of champions— as well as a mug of hot tea. Then I changed into my pajamas and sat beside the lamp at my desk to continue reading through the pile. My muted, forgotten TV provided the only other illumination.

  That part of the dream seemed normal. Almost like a memory that I’d had a long time ago.

  It even included the part where I fell asleep at my desk. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. I liked to consider myself a work-hard, play-hard type of girl.

  But also unfortunately, the only thing I’d done recently was work hard.

  The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, still in my pajamas, surrounded by little green aliens.

  That part… had to be a dream. Maybe Close Encounters of the Third Kind had been on my TV, or those little green beings had popped out of some broken part of my psyche.

  I’d experienced sleep paralysis before and although I was “awake”, I couldn’t move, couldn't even scream. In the spirit of every nightmarish alien abduction story, the little green aliens seemed completely uncaring abou
t my terror and discomfort. They were the classic ones you saw on TV: dark forest green skin, big heads, and large black pupilless eyes.

  And they’d poked and prodded my pajama clad body with various instruments.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting it to end.

  And that's when I felt the pressure on my head, right on the side of my skull. My eyes flew open and I let out a scream that came out as a grunt as one of the aliens stuck something straight into my brain which looked far too much like a syringe for my liking. And it hurt!

  This is a dream… This is just a dream… I told myself, hoping, praying, trying to convince myself that if I fell asleep, I’d wake up back at my desk, or better yet, safe in my bed.

  But no, instead everything went fuzzy again. The next thing I knew, I was being shoved along, hazy and confused, still in my little pajama pants with the cute teddy bears on them and shuffling in my fuzzy bunny slippers.

  There was a… Well, it kind of looked like one of those delivery tubes that old-style banks used to collect checks and stuff from drive-up windows, the ones that were vacuum powered. Only this one was easily six feet high and I was about to be the contents of it.

  It was some kind of pod. They loaded me in, and I turned around just as the glasslike substance sealed around me. Gas hissed and I felt my eyes grow heavy.

  What’d felt like a long, long time later, I was vaguely aware something was going on around me. I heard yelling and screaming… But it was far away and in my exhausted, dazed state, I couldn't find it in myself to care.

  The world shattered and jolted around. I felt like I was on a carnival ride, flipped end over end. Or maybe a washing machine on the spin cycle.

  Then it finally ended.

  The next thing I knew, I blinked my eyes open.

  My first thought was: Finally. Those terrible dreams, nightmares, hallucinations, whatever were finally over with. I’d wake up and see everything was okay.