Page 1 of Alien’s Love Child

CHAPTER 1

JESSE

I 'm sprawled across the captain's chair, one leg dangling over the armrest, when Rena's voice crackles through the ship's comm.

"Got something that might interest you. Encrypted message coming through."

My heart skips a beat. The credit chip's been running low these past weeks. "Finally. Put it through to my screen."

The holographic display flickers to life in front of me. A man's face materializes – tall, blonde, wire-rimmed glasses catching the light. His features are sharp, angular.

"Captain. I require discrete transportation to Glimner Station."

I straighten in my chair. "You've reached the right ship. Though discrete usually means expensive."

"My funds are... limited at present." He adjusts his glasses with precise movements. "However, my contact on Glimner will compensate you generously upon delivery."

"That's what they all say." I tap my fingers against the armrest. "What's your name?"

"Xander. And I assure you, this arrangement would be mutually beneficial."

"What's the catch?"

"The Alliance and Ataxian Coalition must remain unaware of my movements."

Rena's voice cuts in through the comm. "Jesse, that's a lot of heat to dodge."

"Nothing we haven't handled before," I say, studying Xander's face. There's something clinical about his gaze, like he's examining a specimen rather than having a conversation. "Where are you now?"

"Station 459. I can transmit coordinates for a rendezvous point."

I lean forward, already plotting the route in my head. "Send them through. But listen carefully – if your contact doesn't pay up when we reach Glimner, you'll wish you'd taken your chances with the Alliance."

"Understood." His lips quirk in what might be amusement. "I look forward to our partnership."

The transmission ends, and Rena's footsteps echo down the corridor before she appears in the doorway. "Well?"

"Plot a course for Station 459." I pull up the navigational charts. "Looks like we're back in business."

"Aye aye, Captain," Rena drawls, sliding into the navigator's chair with exaggerated formality. Her fingers dance across the controls, bringing up the holographic star charts.

A metallic clang echoes from the doorway, followed by a string of muttered curses. Taluk's red-scaled face peers around the corner, his black hair falling into his eyes. "Did I hear right? We've got a job?"

I spin my chair to face him. "You know, eavesdropping on your captain's business isn't exactly professional behavior."

"The door was wide open," he says, gesturing with the wrench in his hand. His scales flush a deeper crimson. "I was just fixing that guardrail like you asked. The one by the cargo hold?"

My irritation fades as I notice the grease stains on his hands and the earnest look in his eyes. I bite my lip, remembering how the rail had nearly given way during our last landing. "Right. Thanks for that."

"Course is plotted," Rena announces, her fingers still moving across the navigation panel. "Found us a nice route that skirts Alliance territory. Should keep us clear of any patrols."

The engines hum to life beneath us as Rena initiates the launch sequence. Through the viewport, I watch Station 459 grow larger against the starfield. Another job, another risk – but at least we're not sitting idle anymore.

Taluk shuffles back toward the door, his tools clanking against his belt. I catch a glimpse of something calculated in his expression before he turns away, but it's gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

"Taking us out," Rena says, and the ship surges forward, leaving our docking bay behind.

The stars streak past the viewport as we break away from Station 337. I prop my boots up on the console, watching Rena's expert hands guide us through the departure sequence. The sound of Taluk's footsteps stomping down the hall echo alongside the clatter of whoever was on mess hall duty for the day.

My little underground startup is starting to get crowded.

"Remember when it was just you and me?" I ask. "Back when we could barely afford fuel for this bucket?"

Rena snorts. "You mean when we had to share that tiny bunk because the heating was busted?"

"Hey, I kept you warm, didn't I?"

"Yeah, with your cold feet pressed against my back all night." She flicks a switch, adjusting our trajectory. "Though I'll take that over the time we had to hide in that shipping container on Nexus."

"Three days eating nothing but protein bars." I shake my head, grinning at the memory. "But that payout was worth it."

"Barely covered the repairs after you decided to outrun that Alliance cruiser."

"Which I did, thanks to your flying."

She turns to me, a rare smile softening her features. "We've come a long way since then. Got ourselves a proper crew now."

"Speaking of crew..." I lower my voice. "What do you make of our new job?"

"Nerds give me the creeps." Rena's fingers dance across the navigation panel. "Especially ones running from the Alliance."

"Could be worse. Remember that Ataxian diplomat we transported?"

"The one who insisted on meditating in the cargo hold?" She laughs. "I thought the vibrations would shake us apart."

The ship hums beneath us, a familiar melody I've grown to love. Every dent and scratch tells a story – like the scorch mark near the airlock from our first job together, or the patched panel where Rena once had to perform an emergency repair mid-flight.

"We did alright for ourselves," I say softly.

"That we did, Captain." Rena checks our heading. "That we did."

A day later, still on the way to the pickup location, I'm doing my usual maintenance check of the cargo hold when Taluk's shadow falls across the inventory I'm reviewing. His scales catch the light, casting red reflections on the metal walls.

"Captain, got a minute?"

"Sure." I set down my tablet. "What's on your mind?"

He shifts his weight, glancing around like someone might be listening. "It's about the man we're meeting. Xander."

"What about him?"

"I did some digging. He's a scientist who?—"

"Stop." I hold up my hand. The cargo hold suddenly feels smaller, more confined. "Let me give you some advice, kid. One smuggler to another."

Taluk's mouth snaps shut, his scaled jaw working back and forth.

"We don't dig into our clients' business. Ever. That's rule number one in this line of work. We look at two things – the payment and the risk. That's it."

"But don't you think we should know?—"

"No." I step closer, keeping my voice low but firm. "I'm cutting you some slack because you're new to this. But listen carefully – curiosity gets people killed in our line of work. The less we know, the better we sleep at night."

His scales darken, a sure sign of frustration. The muscles in his jaw flex as he grinds his teeth.

"I appreciate the warning," he says finally. "Won't happen again."

"Good." I pick up my tablet again. "Now, how about you help me inventory these crates? Much safer than poking around in other people's secrets."

He nods, but there's something in his eyes I can't quite read. "Thanks for the insight, Captain."

I watch Taluk methodically counting crates, his movements careful despite his size. My words from earlier still hang heavy in the recycled air. The cargo hold feels too quiet, save for the soft beeping of his inventory scanner.

"Hey." I lean against a stack of containers. "You know, you're doing good work here. Better than I did when I first started."

His scanning falters for a moment. The red scales along his neck ripple – a Vakutan tell for surprise.

"When I was your age, I dropped an entire shipment of Nexian crystals. Right through the cargo bay doors." I tap the floor with my boot. "Made this exact dent, actually. Cost us a fortune."

Taluk's shoulders relax slightly. "That does make me feel better about the time I mixed up the medical supplies with those boxes of contraband fruit."

"Exactly. And look how far you've come since then." I gesture at his organized stacks of inventory. "Most Vakutans I've met wouldn't have the patience for this kind of detail work. You've got good instincts – just need to point them in the right direction."

His dark eyes meet mine briefly before returning to the scanner. "Thanks, Captain," he mutters, but I catch the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth.

"Give it time. A few more years and you'll be twice my size. Imagine the doors that'll open when you can actually intimidate people instead of just dropping things on their feet."

That gets a quiet chuckle out of him. The tension from our earlier conversation dissipates like vented atmosphere.

"Just focus on learning the business first," I say, pushing off from the containers. "The rest will come."

"Thanks," he says again, softer this time, his scales shifting to a warmer shade of red.

I make my way through the narrow corridors of my ship, running my fingers along the worn metal walls. The familiar hum of the engines vibrates through my boots with each step. Through the bridge doorway, Rena hunches over the nav console, muttering calculations under her breath.

"Carry the four, adjust for stellar drift..."

"Still working those numbers?”

"Someone has to make sure we don't end up in an asteroid field." She doesn't look up, but I catch her smile. "Your father taught me that trick with the gravitational vectors, you know. Saved our asses more than once."

A cleaning bot whirs past my feet, spinning in circles as it chases what might be a small rodent that snuck on board at port. The little machine bumps into the wall repeatedly, its sensors clearly malfunctioning.

"Hey, at least it's persistent," I say, stepping over it.

The smell of something burning draws me to the galley. Smoke curls from a pot while one of my newer crew members frantically fans it with a towel.

"Everything under control in here?"

"Absolutely, Captain!" He coughs, waving away smoke. "Just... adding some character to dinner."

Dad would've loved this – the organized chaos, the makeshift family we've built. Mom too, though she'd probably suggest better security protocols. I touch the pendant hanging at my neck, the one she gave me before my first solo run.

"Keep your cargo close and your crew closer," she'd said. "But most importantly, keep them loyal."

The burning smell intensifies. "Maybe I should order takeout when we dock," I mutter, but I'm smiling. This rickety ship, this misfit crew – it's everything they taught me to build. A proper smuggling operation, running smooth as silk on this side of the galaxy. Well, mostly smooth.

The cleaning bot zooms past again, still chasing shadows. Some things you just can't plan for.