Jenna

JENNA

M y alarm is blaring. I attempt to shout at it, but my throat is dry and no sound comes out. It means I have to pry open an eye and actually look for my comm.

There’s a bottle of water next to the bed, which I grab to down the contents. I get a mouthful of stale water and that’s it.

My life is a disaster zone, but at least I can speak.

“Alarm off!” I croak.

Why the hell did I set an alarm? It’s not like I’m going to work today. It’ll be the same as yesterday, staring at the walls of my quarters because I don’t have the credits to go anywhere or do anything.

Because I gave my last ten-pound credit chip to the stupid lottery.

The alarm has not shut up. I blearily scrabble around on my messy bed to find the source of the noise and find my wrist comm down the side.

It’s not an alarm. It’s a message, a holo message.

No one sends me holo messages. They’re expensive, which means most people don’t send them anyway, but I don’t have any friends who could afford to throw away money.

As for my family…they all disowned me the minute I joined the security section when I came of age as apparently I was dishonoring the family because they preferred to be on the wrong side of the law.

I didn’t see it that way. I wanted to make a life for myself which didn’t mean running from authority, hiding in the vents, and stealing from those who had little enough for themselves. I wanted life to be better for everyone, not just the few prepared to take whatever they could.

Admittedly, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. I knew what I would come up against, like the St. John Cholmondeleys of this ship. But I did make him regret his actions for a short while, and I still count it as a win.

I sigh and flick on the message. My whole bedroom glows with light, and fireworks go off everywhere.

“Congratulations! You’ve won!” a voice booms.

Fuck, it’s some sort of spam message. I attempt to shut it down, but the thing carries on regardless.

“The Starlight Lottery is ready to welcome you… McMahon …you’ve won the opportunity of a lifetime. Please go to your nearest Starlight Lottery office to get further details…”

The message continues with a 3D map to my nearest office, but I stop listening.

I’ve won?

I’ve actually won something?

I replay the message. It seems legitimate. I check the origin. It is from Starlight Lottery and from within S.C. Britannia . It is legit.

I pinch myself and it hurts…a lot.

I’m not dreaming and there is someone banging on my door.

“Fuck it.” I stomp the few meters and activate the spy-gap.

Stood outside, in full dress uniform, is the commander, flanked by Dan and another officer I don’t recognize, one with a sandy pencil mustache and a pencil neck.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

“We know you’re in there, McMahon,” the unfamiliar officer says. “Open the door.”

“I’m on leave. Fuck off,” I respond.

Not my finest retort, but then I’m on the cusp of a new life, so why not?

“You want us to use the warrant?” The officer holds up a significantly more sophisticated version of my standard-issue laser pistol.

Fuck.

What the hell do they want? I’ve got about three seconds to decide. I flick the door lock and walk away until I’m in the center of my quarters and close enough to the escape hatch if I do need to go.

Sometimes having a criminal family has its uses. In this case, it’s knowing not to trust anyone, ever.

The commander enters first, wrinkling his snooty nose at my tiny, crowded quarters. I fold my arms as Dan and the other officer enter. Dan gives me a sheepish smile. I raise my eyebrows at him.

“It was my idea to bring Officer Mannering. I thought seeing a familiar face might assist,” the commander says, eyes on me, raking up and down.

I’m wearing what I usually sleep in, an old, soft T-shirt which…oh fuck, clings to my every ample curve. The two most ample of which are currently bra-less.

And I’m in the middle of my quarters with nothing else to grab in order to cover myself. I’m going to have to brazen this one out, so I pop a hip and put my hand on it.

“What do you want, Commander?” I sneer. “A day ago, you couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”

“We’re here because of the lottery,” the unnamed officer says.

“And who the fuck are you?” I ask. The commander takes in a breath.

“May I remind you, McMahon, you’re still in the service, even if you are on leave. Captain Charlesworth is a member of the intelligence corps, and he outranks you.”

“Not anymore. I quit,” I respond.

“You can’t quit,” the commander splutters.

“I just did.” I turn and grab the dressing gown off my bed before I remember how short my T-shirt is and how I’m wearing a very racy pair of knickers because everything else is in the wash. “So, you can all fuck off.”

Three stunned faces greet me as I turn back, pulling on the gown. There’s an awkward, brief silence.

“This is about”—the captain clears his throat—“the Starlight Lottery.”

“I’ve been informed I have won, which is why I quit,” I reply. “And why you can all fuck off.”

“You don’t get to leave the service like that,” the commander says, recovering his composure and turning his usual shade of red. “There are protocols...”

“Fuck them.”

“We can stop you claiming your prize,” Captain Charlesworth says, contemplating his shiny boots.

“No, you cannot. I won, and I’m going.” I bristle.

“You’ll need clearance to leave Britannia . You know the rules,” he says.

I do know the rules and I know he’s right. I fold my arms over my chest. I know this visit isn’t about stopping me from going to Starlight Lottery either.

“What do you want?” I glare at the captain because he’s clearly the one calling the shots.

“We’ve heard the Lottery is a front for something else, something which is a potential threat to Britannia , so we need someone on the inside to give us information, to find out what’s really going on,” he says.

“In what way is it a threat? Is it dangerous? All the information I was given said the Lottery only involved friendly aliens,” I respond.

I’ve met quite a few aliens in my work. They pass through the ports on Britannia as traders. I enjoy meeting the different species and the vast majority are polite and pleasant, unlike most humans.

“It’s not dangerous,” the captain says hastily. “Not at all. You’ll be perfectly safe. We simply need you to feed back information to us about the Lottery operations.” He proffers me a small box.

I hesitate and then take it from him, opening it to reveal a wrist comm.

“I have one of these,” I say.

“This one will allow you to send intel directly to us via an encrypted service,” Charlesworth says pompously.

“So, what’s in it for me if I agree do to this for you?”

“Whatever’s happening with the Starlight Lottery, we guarantee we’ll pull you out if requested, and you’ll be reinstated on the Britannia at your current rank and station.”

I look at the commander.

“First class,” I say.

“Pardon?” He glares at me, turning scarlet.

“I want to be reinstated as security officer first class.”

Commander Smythe splutters. “No woman has ever been first class.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.” I don’t let my gaze leave him for a second. “Can’t risk the competition? Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.”

The captain leans and whispers something in the commander’s ear. The color drains from Smythe’s face.

“Agreed.”

Oh fuck, what have I got myself into?