Page 7 of Across the Stars (Cosmic Threads of Fate #1)

CHAPTER SEVEN

MAE

Mae took comfort in the soft hum of the Atlantis’ force field. It would shield the vessel while she hiked down to the beach for her first water sample.

Her bracer confirmed the air was safe—no oxygen tanks, no filters needed. Relief eased her shoulders, though she kept her mask secured to her head. If the moon’s fauna exhaled something toxic, she’d be ready.

Soil, water, air—basic numbers. Acidity, mineral content, stability.

If they met the thresholds, super-crops could take root, feeding thousands.

Humanity had engineered plants to survive almost anywhere, each one a full panel of proteins and nutrients once only found in animals.

With those crops, the government could spread like a tide, staking flags on planets and moons the moment the data aligned.

Her task was simple on paper: log the findings, wake the others, let the machinery of conquest grind forward. If the system deemed this moon viable, she was obligated to wake the crew so they could test further and chart Atlantis’ next move.

And yet she hesitated. Dragons lived here. She wanted to shield them, shield this fragile world, from the same hands that had claimed so many others.

But thirty-two crewmates slept in cryopods below deck.

She owed them the same fairness she would demand if the roles were reversed.

The data was already logged, impossible to erase without system engineers.

Her contract was clear: five years awake, five years alone, then wake the next. Discovery meant duty.

It was only right—do unto others as she would want for herself. She had to wake the crew.

Shadows shifted across the white sand like the spokes of a great wheel. For an instant, she thought of carnival swing rides from old Earth—except these silhouettes weren’t human. Wings, translucent and stained-glass bright, painted the coral-white desert in shifting color.

Mae’s stomach dropped. She yanked her plasma gun free, sighting skyward. Dragons—dozens of them—spiraled above in flawless formation. And not just dragons. Riders.

Her throat constricted. One human against twenty-five mounted alien warriors. No odds at all. Even with a weapon, it was suicide.

The exploration case lay forgotten in the sand.

If the aliens took it, she had spares aboard.

Survival came first. She lowered the gun, shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare as the formation tightened, then bolted for the ship.

Humans already carried too much blood on their hands.

She wasn’t going to add more if she could help it.

The invisible wall of the force field met her with bone-jarring resistance. Pain flared as she bounced back, gasping. Fingers trembling, she fumbled with the bracer’s security cover, trying to key in the override, to disable security and lower the ship’s ramp.

Voices—shouts, grunts, commands—rose behind her. Roars shook the air. Then impact. Something slammed her from behind, driving her into the ground. Sand tore at her mask as her head hit hard. Stars burst across her vision.

A heavy body pinned her down, pressing her chest into the grit. She thrashed, but her hands slid uselessly, unable to find leverage.

A heavy body slammed into her, driving her chest into the grit. The impact rattled her skull, pain flaring as her head struck the ground. She thrashed, but her hands slid uselessly, unable to find leverage. The weight pressed down, pinning her flat.

Dazed, breath crushed from her lungs, Mae clawed at the sand, trying to roll, to buck the alien off, but her grip kept slipping. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Blood blurred her vision.

Her gaze snatched toward the fallen plasma gun, just out of reach. Terror knifed through her. If they used it against her—Stars, what had she unleashed by drawing first?

“I come in peace!” The plea ripped out of her, ragged, hoarse. “Please—get off me!”

Pressure shifted. Hands—strong, unyielding—seized her shoulders and rolled her onto her back.

The sun’s glare and the blood streaming into her eye reduced the figure above her to a shifting shadow. Her vision swam, hazy with pain, while massive shapes wheeled overhead, wings blotting out the light, alien voices tangling with draconic shrieks.

Air rasped through her mask as she fought to breathe against the weight pressing her chest. Desperation lent her strength; she clutched at the alien’s knee, tried to shove—but her arms betrayed her, weak and shaking.

“Please…” Her voice cracked. “Stop…”