Chapter 3
Commander Krestar var'Arenchar listened as the comms console crackled to life, broadcasting a call from a nearby Patrol vessel. His mouth tightened as the voice on the other end detailed their engagement with a Vedeckian ship. The Vedeckians were traders, but their only motive was profit which meant that they traded in anything - including people. The aftermath of the Red Death, the plague that had swept across multiple systems, had left them with multiple opportunities to exploit those losses.
His instincts demanded that he alter course and join the battle, but his ship, the Seren, was designed for exploration, not fighting. He'd traded in firepower for advanced sensors and a state-of-the-art navigation system. There was nothing he could do to assist, and his duty was to gather information, not to indulge in reckless heroics.
I should know better than to fight useless battles anyway, he thought bitterly as he reached out and switched off the comms console, returning to his usual silence. He took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate on the navigation charts unfolding on his console. His current course would take him through a narrow asteroid field, potentially rich in useful mineral deposits, but tricky to navigate.
The risks didn't concern him. While he had no intention of acting recklessly, if his life ended here it would be of no great consequence to anyone. He had already failed his people.
The Red Death had decimated the Cire population, leaving them on the brink of extinction. Working under the Cire ruling council, he had overseen the desperate attempts to revitalize their dying race. The labs had become his second home, the endless experiments and failures a constant reminder of his people's plight. He had lost count of the number of artificial wombs that had failed to produce viable offspring, the countless trials that had ended in heartbreak.
Twenty years of toil, of sacrifice, of hope and despair – and still, they had failed. They had made some progress over the past few years but it was too little, too late, and he could no longer live with his failure. The Confederated Planets Patrol had offered him a way out, a chance to escape the crushing guilt and to do something useful. Perhaps even a chance to find some measure of peace.
His thoughts snapped back to the present as the Seren's proximity alert began to flash, signaling the presence of an unknown object in the asteroid field. As he quickly plotted a course correction, the ship's sensors picked up a faint signal, a distress call. Focusing on the signal, he finally identified the source as an escape pod.
What was an escape pod doing out here? It occurred to him that it could have come from the Vedeckian ship, but he still couldn't ignore the call and he adjusted the ship's course to intercept the pod. As the pod drew closer, the ship shuddered, her engines sputtering in protest. The asteroid field was denser than he had anticipated, and the ship was struggling to navigate through the treacherous terrain.
He had to retrieve the pod and get it safely on board before the Seren succumbed to the asteroid field's hazards. Despite the ship's faltering engines, he managed to maneuver it alongside the pod and extend the grappling hook. He snagged the pod and drew it towards the small cargo bay as he struggled to compensate for the ship's unstable systems.
The pod was almost inside when the ship lurched violently, throwing him against the pilot's seat restraints. Alarms blared, warning of damage to the ship's hull. His heart rate quickened as he fought to stabilize the ship, his attention torn between the pod and the ship's struggle for survival. He couldn't afford to divert resources to assist the ship, not yet – he had to get the pod on board, and fast.
The grappling hook strained, the pod hovering precariously close to the cargo bay's open maw. His jaw clenched, determined not to lose his fragile hold on the capsule. A gentle tug, then another, and he breathed a sigh of relief as it came to rest in the cargo bay and the door closed behind it. He immediately turned his attention back to the ship's controls but he was too late. A deafening blast shook the Seren and the console erupted in a shower of sparks.
He immediately triggered the fire suppression system, extinguishing the flames, but the damage was done, the air thick with the acrid smell of smoke and ozone. The comms console was dead, the navigation charts offline, and the ship's gravity generators faltering. He scrambled to reroute power and the ship shuddered, groaning in protest as he coaxed her towards a precarious stability.
The silence that followed was a welcome respite from the din of alarms and explosions, but he knew it was only a false sense of normality. The ship had suffered extensive damage. After making sure the ship wasn't in immediate danger, he headed for the cargo bay, his tail lashing angrily. The occupant of the pod had better be worth the price he'd paid to retrieve it. If it was a Vedeckian, they could just stay there until he could turn them over to the Patrol - assuming he could reach another Patrol ship with his damaged vessel.
He released the pod's latches, and the door hissed open, releasing a sweet, intoxicating scent as it revealed a figure slumped against the padding. Not a Vedeckian after all. A female, a beautiful, curvy… pregnant female. The realization hit him like a physical blow. There were no more Cire females. He would never see a pregnant Cire female, but this lush female carrying the promise of life…
Mine.
A low growl rumbled in his chest as he stared at her, his hands balling into fists. Her skin was a smooth gold, her head covered in a mass of dark, soft-looking tendrils, but the differences didn't matter. She was his to protect.
Her eyes suddenly fluttered open, dark and disoriented. His instincts took over, and he placed a gentle hand on her face, his thumb stroking the soft curve of her cheek as their eyes met. His world narrowed to the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the sweetness of her scent, and the vulnerability in her eyes.
"Who are you?" she whispered, her voice husky, her eyes never leaving his.
"Commander Krestar var'Arenchar, Patrol vessel Seren. And you are…?"
"I'm Lauren. Lauren Maxwell."
"Lauren," he repeated, smiling. The unfamiliar name had a melodic sound. It suited her. "You are safe now."