Delivered to the Aliens: Cosmic Connections
Read Delivered to the Aliens: Cosmic Connections Online
Authors: Nancey Cummings,Starr Huntress
Delivered to the Aliens
A Cosmic Connections Story
STARR HUNTRESS
NANCEY CUMMINGS
Table of Contents
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Sophia
That jerk.
That unmitigated, pompous, conniving, vindictive jerk.
The smile on Sophia’s face remained steady. The tray of moderately clean glassware remained steady in her hands. Nothing in the Riddle and Salt bar was ever truly clean.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Have customers complained?” she asked with false sweetness. The dive bar’s crowds weren’t really customers so much as regular drunks.
Harry, the owner of the bar shifted in his seat. The chair squeaked in protest under his weight. “No, you’ve been an excellent waitress but business isn’t good right now. We have to let you go, Sophia.”
Out of a job. Again. This was the second job
this week
to let Sophia go because “business was bad”.
Hogwash.
Sophia’s hand clenched into fists but the forced smiled remained. The whole situation stank of her ex-boyfriend, Derek. Since kicking Derek’s worthless behind out of their apartment, life had gotten tough on Aldrin One.
She’d finally had enough of his lies and gambling debts. “Of course I paid the rent, baby.”
Yeah, right.
“I haven’t been to the betting house in weeks.”
Please.
That man only opened his mouth to lie or ask for money. Her money, of course. His family cut him off long ago.
When they first started dating, Derek was a considerate and doting boyfriend. How did she not notice he spent all his time in the gambling halls? His “friends” were only interested in him when he had money. Well, Sophia’s money.
A girl’s got to stand up for herself at some point, right? Derek disagreed. Endless harassment followed since breaking up three months ago. Constant calls on her comm. Pounding on her door in the middle of night. Following her in the station to and from work. When she had a job. She didn’t have one anymore, thanks to Derek and his stalking.
Sophia couldn’t understand how it was
her
fault that unhinged Derek created a scene where she worked. It started outside her classroom. Overprotective parents didn’t want their children exposed to a lunatic screaming at their teacher. The school agreed. It was pure coincidence that she was laid off due to “budget cut backs.” Totally unrelated.
Employment opportunities went downhill from there. Unable to find a teaching position, Sophia worked in a shop on the station’s Promenade. Derek’s goon “friends” showed up, knocked out a glass plated window and suddenly “business was bad”. Sophia was out of a job and none of the other shops would touch her.
She drifted from waitressing at respectable restaurants to serving drinks in bars. Every establishment experienced a downturn in business after they hired her. It was totally unrelated that no one on Aldrin One would hire Sophia. Had nothing to do with Derek Yeon and the vague threats his goon friends made.
Finally, she drifted down market enough to sling drinks at the dodgiest dive in Aldrin One. And even they didn’t want to keep her.
“Is there a specific reason
business
is bad,” Sophia said. Not a question. She set the tray down on the counter.
“I really can’t say,” Harry said. Beads of perspiration clung to his upper lip.
Aldrin One, a massive space station, served as the gateway for Earth to the rest of the universe. Thousands of Terrans and aliens lived and worked on that station. Tens of thousands of Terrans and aliens moved through the station every day. There was nothing, no food, object, or experience a traveler could not purchase with the right amount of credits. The tourism office bragged that the galaxy came to Aldrin One. Still, it wasn’t big enough for the two of them.
“I thought you had balls, Harry,” Sophia said, resolve breaking to stay calm and play nice. “Or at least a spine.”
“It’s not my fault you have lousy taste in men,” Harry said.
The tray of glassware sat on the counter. Sophia pushed, tipping the tray and glass shattering on the floor.
“Hey! You have to pay for that.”
“So dock my pay.” The glasses were so grimy they could never be cleaned. She was doing them a favor. She picked up bottles behind the bar and started flinging them against the wall. Each explosion of cheap booze and glass soothed the rage in her chest.
“You know why people come here, Harry?” A bottle of Terran Sherry burst. “It’s not the friendly customer service.” A bottle of whiskey shattered. “And it’s not your charming personality.” Vodka against the wall. “And it’s not to choke down cheap beer in dirty glasses.” Corravian rum. Gone.
“Sophia, stop.”
“It’s because you’re cheap and they’re broke.”
“You have to leave before I call Security.” Bar patrons stared but no one seemed overly concerned about Sophia’s outburst.
“Like Security ever comes down to Deck 23-G.” She untied the apron and threw it at Harry. She stormed out with righteous fury, kicking over a chair before exiting. Fury propelled her down the dimly lit corridor, toward the Atrium.
Multi storied, the Atrium was a hanging garden and open space on the station. Floating platforms filled the vertical space. Down on Deck 23-G, light trickled down from the upper decks. Plants clung around the cylindrical grow lamps. Mostly shadows on the lower levels, at least the Atrium was quiet.
Sophia brushed off the accumulated trash from the concrete planters and perched on the edge. Heat radiated from the grow lamp at her back. The station’s heating didn’t work so great on the lower decks and the lamps made the Atrium comfortable.
Riddle and Salt was her absolute last chance. No one else would give her a job and her cash reserve ran low. She pulled out the coins in her pocket and counted. Riddle and Salt clients didn’t tip much and they never used credit like civilized people. Coins. Honestly. Who even used the archaic money but criminals?
Sophia counted twice. Her stomach rumbled. She had enough to buy dinner. Drowning her self-pity in a meal of a greasy hamburger and hot, crispy fries sounded fantastic.
She was out of options. It was go back to Derek or go back to Earth penniless on the next transport. Her hand clenched around the coins. She might be broke and evicted any day, but she’d never go back to Derek.
Screw him.
She could crash at Frankie’s place for a while. Until when? Employment opportunities improved? Unlikely. Frankie would never complain about letting her friend stay but her apartment was tiny. The two friends would tear each other apart in no time.
Sophia could go back to Earth though she didn’t have family there anymore. No, upon reflection, Earth was too close. Derek and his harassment would follow.
Maybe she could find a teaching position on a colony world. Colonists needed education, too. Only she didn’t have the credit to book her passage. She’d need to be hired first and hope the position paid for transportation. Unlikely.
A mining company? They hired anyone who could operate the machinery and could tolerate being cooped up on a small base. Dismal but the best prospect so far.
A colorful, crumpled flyer on the ground caught her attention. Paper. How old fashioned. Sophia smoothed out the flyer. She recognized the Cosmic Connections logo. A mail order bride agency? Really?
Then she noticed the fine print at the bottom of the flyer. She skimmed over the generous bonus and homed in on “transportation provided”.
A mail order bride?
Sophia folded the flyer and stuck it in her pocket.
Why not? She wasn’t going to get a better offer.
* * *
The Cosmic Connections branch manager, Adele Sallus, had a familiar look. Sophia couldn’t quite place it. It might have been the round face, the prim hair or the overly fussy outfit. Ms. Sallus and her type of highly strung older woman could be found in any office in the galaxy.
“I need you to complete the personality questionnaire,” she said.
Sophia wasn’t interested in a questionnaire. “How soon can I be matched?”
“Please complete the questionnaire first, then we can discuss your concerns.”
“I don’t have
concerns
. I’m asking for
facts
.”
Ms. Sallus raised her eyebrows and tapped the tablet.
“Fine,” Sophia grumbled. The questions were ridiculous and nothing what a matchmaking service needed to know, like favorite film, color, or childhood pet. These were brain teasers.
A man walks into a restaurant and the waitress says “Good day, Admiral.” How did the waitress know the man was an Admiral?
Ugh. Really? Maybe the Admiral was a regular. Maybe the waitress used to be in the military. Maybe he wore his uniform. Sophia typed the possible answers. Fortunately, the questionnaire was short. Unfortunately all the questions were in that vein. Finally, she answered the last ridiculous question.
“There,” Sophia said, handing the tablet back. “Now tell me how fast you can get me off this station.”
Alton
Alton crouched down to inspect the barb wire fence. The cut was clean, made by a tool. It was no accident three calves went missing. Part of him hoped to discover blood, signs a mornclaw dragged off the calves. Hunting a mornclaw, even a pack of mindless mornclaws, was simpler than capturing a cattle rustler.
He tilted the hat back from his brow and scanned the horizon. The hat brim rubbed uncomfortably against his short horns. The pale pink and purple tufts of prairie smoke rolled across the fields. The cattle favored the hardy native plant. No buildings or Corravian-made structures marred the view.
Life was good on Corra in the secured areas but surviving on the fringes of mornclaw territory took hard work, constant vigilance and pairs of warriors, much like Alton and his partner Zan, to defend settlements.
The vicious, rapidly breeding bugs arrived on Corra two decades ago. Their sheer numbers overwhelmed the populace. Major settlements were able to prevent infestations but rural communities were destroyed. Towns emptied. Homesteads abandoned. Corra suffered a severe planet wide population loss as many Corravians chose to emigrate. Guardians, stationed near settlements, were able to push back the mornclaw infestations but wide areas remained uninhabitable.
His herd of Bova acted a bellwether. When the mornclaw population surged, the six legged cattle vanished, telling Alton it was time to hunt aggressively.
Corravian males lived in pairs, hunted in pairs and mated in pairs called a Brace. Zan, his lifelong friend, was his Brace partner.
Alton took out a hand tool to repair the fence. His Brace was not as strong as it should be. He was at odds with Zan in so many ways. They grew up together, boyhood friends, drifted apart in early adulthood but came back together a few years ago in military service.
Get a permanent assignment, make it secure, make it flourish, then find the woman to share their life with. Finally, children. That was the plan to which Alton and Zan agreed.
The sentry post, located on an old ranch homestead, monitored the nearby settlement. Self sustaining, for the most part, the sentry post grew its own food and occasionally received supplies from the Corravian military. The homestead operated smoothly. Alton scouted and hunted down clutches of mornclaw eggs. Zan with his mechanical skills kept the machinery and automated greenhouse domes running. The mornclaws had not attacked any civilian since Alton and Zan took their post.
Successfully guarding the small community was all well and good, but it was a lonely existence with little reward. The main source of friction between the warriors boiled down to women. Sure, Alton and Zan could find someone to share for a day or two. That was all Zan wanted: company for a night. Alton wanted a family.
Ready to settle down, it was time. Past time. He was getting to the age where the need for a family, for a wife and child, dogged his every thought. Pressure grew and he would burst if he didn’t find a release soon. He needed a wife, pure and simple.
If Zan couldn’t agree with him on this, it might be time to break up their Brace.
Alton rubbed at the base of his short horns, considering his options. He didn’t want to leave the Brace. The notion felt wrong on a fundamental level. Siring a child required two Corravian males. Alton wanted that other male to be Zan. Marriages of a single male to a female were not uncommon; they just required a “donation” for procreation. That was not his path.
But Zan would never agree to marriage. When Alton tried to discuss the matter with his Brace partner, Zan said life on the frontier was too dangerous to risk a female before storming away.
Alton faced a dilemma. The situation couldn’t go on as it was; that much was clear. If Alton did nothing, he would eventually walk away. If Alton forced the issue, Zan might leave. Either way their Brace partnership would end and Alton would not stand by and watch it wither and die.
He needed to find a wife. Zan wouldn’t like it but he’d come to accept the wisdom of it. If he didn’t… Well, better to end things early than to let it linger and suffer.
Finding a wife, though, was tricky. Local females were out. No one would be able to keep the surprise from Zan in the small community, especially Alton’s sister, Miri. He’d have to find a female from farther afield. Two towns over? The major settlement on Corra? How could he sneak away and go wife-hunting without arousing Zan’s suspicion? No, he wouldn’t be able to go and find a wife. He’d have to trust someone to find a suitable mate. Miri? No, for exactly the same reason Alton couldn’t find his mate locally; his sister was a terrible gossip.
Alton couldn’t think of anyone he would trust to find a mate besides his sister. A stranger, then.
An advertisement for a mail-order bride agency came to mind: Cosmic Connections. Alton remembered snickering at the commercial. Trusting an agency to match him and marrying a stranger seemed ludicrous at the time but now… He could see the appeal. He really could.
Alton finished the last of the repairs and stood, dusting his hands off on his jeans. He’s contact Cosmic Connections. They would find a mate for his Brace. When she arrived, Zan would see the wisdom in Alton’s actions. He had to or their partnership would be finished.