2
Paige Spencer, Insuri Planetary Defense, Station Alpha, Transport Room
Didthe obnoxious ringing in my ears mean my head was still attached? I felt like I’d been thrown into the back of a garbage truck, compressed, smashed, stirred up and spit back out into my current position lying on my back on the cold, hard floor. I didn’t smell grass or trees or anything outdoorsy. There was no breeze. I was definitely inside. Somewhere.
I patted myself down, starting at my over-sized breasts under the hot pink T-shirt. The ugly brown pants and scuffed white tennis shoes I’d worn to work had survived the trip, my shoes and socks perched neatly on the floor next to me. Stifling a groan, I put them on as quickly as I could. Nothing seemed to be broken or bleeding. That was a win. Other than the pain roaring through my skull, everything felt normal-ish.
The imaginary knife shoved into the center of my head faded away as I rolled onto my side and then pushed myself into a sitting position. The agony level changed from an ‘I-can’t-function’ to a solid ‘I-could-run-if-I-was-being-chased-by-a-lion’.
I looked up to see two bright discs of light directly overhead blasting me like two small suns. I stretched my neck side to side and looked around.
I was on a very large, flat surface. Huge. Someone could park a large jet airplane on what I assumed was an alien transport pad. The disk-shaped lights above me were placed at even intervals all over the ceiling and hung directly over the hard, cold floor. I felt like I was sitting on ice cubes.
“Hello?” I yelled, but no one answered.
Migraines weren’t really my thing, so I assumed the fading pain in my head was a side effect of whatever the hell had just happened to me.
C-R-695, that’s what. The peeling alarm hadn’t stopped, the noise worse than obnoxious high school fire drills.
“Interplanetary regulation C-R-695 requires any non-Earthling to be transported immediately and directly to their home planet.” Too bad my perfect mimicry was wasted, since there didn’t seem to be anyone around to hear me. The alarm was bad, but the flashing blue lights weren’t helping my headache either.
“I can’t believe women volunteer for this shit.” Stabbing pain. Cold, hard floor. No alien hottie to welcome me and tell me I was his destiny, his perfect love, his one true mate.
Like that was real.
I hauled myself onto my feet and took a couple steps, just to make sure I could. True love? Forever mates? No. I was too much of a realist for that fairy tale. I’d watched my parents get divorced—twice each—every time they saw each other they argued about who was going to pay for me, the poor little orphan they’d adopted to try to save their marriage.
A shiver raced through me, and I wandered toward what looked like a control station of some kind. There were three chairs large enough that I could crawl onto the seat, curl up and take a nap, multiple monitor screens mounted both to the control array and the walls—I had to assume they were like computer monitors since they were currently empty and blank—and an assortment of symbols printed in a language I’d never seen before. I ran my fingertips over one of the figures. It was beautiful, like a mix between a Chinese character and hi-tech, glittering, gold foil art. Hundreds of symbols covered the raised platform, which came up to my chest. I was about average height for a woman, but whoever made these were much, much taller than I.
“What is this place? Where is everyone?” Wherever I was, it wasn’t where I wanted to be. Goosebumps rose on my arms as I caught a reflection of my image in one of the blank screens.
I looked scared. Eyes too big and a bit manic, wild tendrils of hair had escaped my braid so that I looked like I’d just ridden on a motorcycle without a helmet. I was still wearing my work clothes. Oddly, they were dry. I distinctly remembered falling into that stupid pool of blue water.
“At least you’re not naked, girl.” I’d sunken to talking to my reflection. I wiggled my legs and arms, shrugged my shoulders. Everything seemed to work. I could think. I could talk. Now I just had to find someone who knew how to run these controls and ask them to send me home.
“Hello? Anyone here? I need to go home!”
No one answered. Was the alarm ringing because of me?
Where the hell was I? Was this truly another planet? I hadn’t seen anyone yet, so I had no idea if I was about to see regular humans or ten-foot-tall green monsters.
Shouting sounded from the other side of what looked like a massive, four-part sliding door, each section larger than the lift door for a double garage.
I hunched down to hide behind one of the massive chairs as one of the giant doors lifted, disappearing into the two-story ceiling. Oh, boy. I was about to meet an alien.
Warlord Stohn at the bride center wasn’t bad. Maybe these aliens would be nice?
I peeked through the armrest as two large males—they looked human, thank god—wearing dark blue military uniforms ran into the room, guns of some kind in front of them like they were ready to kill anything that moved, including me.
Shit.
I plastered a smile on my face and rubbed my suddenly sweaty palms on the worn material covering my thighs. What would I say? Hi, I’m Paige from a planet called Earth and there’s been a huge mistake?
Yes. That would about cover it. This was a mistake. I wasn’t supposed to be here, wherever here was. Planet Insuri. Some other Coalition planet. Didn’t matter. I wanted to go home. Now. Right now. My birthday was in a week, and I’d already been invited out to dinner with friends. I’d splurged and ordered a small, triple layer, dark chocolate and cherry birthday cake from the local bakery; the expensive one.
I waited three years to be able to afford that cake. Damn it. I was going home.
“Come out! We know you’re in here!” Security guard number one called out as the second pushed a series of buttons near the door. The blaring alarm went silent, and a sigh of pure relief left my body.
