Alien Instinct Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Alien Instinct

  By Tracy Lauren

  © 2018 Tracy Lauren

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Dedication

  I would like to dedicate this book to my dad, Rainer Alfter, who passed away last year at the all too young age of 67. Dealing with loss of my dad, I found myself filled with inspiration--which, finally made me sit down and write.

  My dad was the type of man you’d expect to find in a romance novel… probably a cowboy one. He had his own deep sense of honor, ethics, and morality as well as an old soul. He could have easily fit--perhaps much better, in a different era in time.

  My early idea of Rennek’s backstory was loosely based on my dad, who grew up a bastard in post WWII Germany. I don’t mean to call him a bastard in a cruel or harsh way--it’s just something that shaped his story. When it comes down to it, love and relationships are what shape all of our stories and my dad had too little or too poor of both, until it was almost like a poison on his entire being. His story was a sad one and I suppose this is my way of giving him a happily ever after.

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Kate

  I turn off the T.V. and my crappy studio apartment goes dark, save for the dim parking lot lights peeking in between the cracks in the blinds. I pad barefoot behind the screen that hides my bed from view and set the alarm to wake me just before 6 a.m., then climbed under the covers.

  It’s only 9 o’clock. I should get a full eight hours, I think as I try to settle in. You can just call me Captain Responsible. That’s who I’ve been my whole life. I’ve had to be, really. It’s not like anyone else is going to do my laundry or pay my rent for me. I wish I had a rich great uncle I didn’t know about who’d leave me a fortune. I’d quit my job and just focus on school. That’d be sad though, I wouldn’t want my fictional great uncle to die.

  I wish I would win the lottery, I amend, but I scoff at the fantasy. Shoot, I wish I could at least splurge on a lotto ticket now and then to keep the dream going, but I can’t afford to be frivolous. I have an early class before work and need to get my rest. Work. My insides twist with anxiety at the thought of going to work the next day.

  I want to quit my job. I need to quit my job--before they fire me. Neither will look good on my resume. I’ve only been there a month for Christ’s sake but it’s been one long month though. It just hasn’t been a good fit, is all. At my last job I was a cashier at a mall shop. I’d always done well handling money, but for some reason being a teller at the bank... I can never get my drawer to balance. The other day I was only a penny off, I was so proud of myself. Unfortunately, the manager didn’t share the sentiment. I can still picture the disapproval on her face. There’s just so much pressure at the bank. I feel like everyone there is waiting for me to fail.

  My coworkers don’t seem to like me at all. I haven’t been clicking with anyone. I overheard some of them saying I had a bad attitude and hearing that? Well, let’s just say it hasn’t improved my attitude enough to help me make any friends. In the first couple weeks I had a chance, I think. Some of the girls invited me out, but I couldn’t afford it. I made up some excuse because I was embarrassed about my lack of funds. In retrospect, it probably seemed like I was blowing them off. I think that was the beginning of my downfall, or it at least helped me earn my “bad attitude” label.

  Maybe I do have a bad attitude. Maybe I’m a sourpuss. An old fart at 22. I sigh.

  I thought this job would propel me into adulthood--that I’d do well and work my way up into something more than just a job… a career. Long story short, being a bank teller isn’t for me and now I need a plan. I can’t get behind in rent or, god forbid, lose my apartment. The thought terrifies me. I twist my sheets in my hands. In two days I have a rare day off--no work, no classes. I decide to spend it filling out job applications. Not that I have a choice.

  Waiting tables might be good. I’ve never done it before, but I’d get tips. I can’t help but picture the needle nearing empty on my car’s fuel gauge. Or my bare fridge and cupboard full of ramen. Thank goodness for ramen. A job that tips would be ideal, I could really use pocket cash between paydays. So, I could buy a fucking apple now and then.

  School has been my great hope though, even if it has been slow going. I don’t have the luxury of living off my parents like most 22-year-olds do. I don’t qualify for financial aid because my mom makes too much money. Never mind the fact that she doesn’t pay my tuition. The last time she gave me any money was when she lavished me with a twenty on my 20th birthday. She thought I was turning 21. The card said, “first round’s on me.” I put it in my gas tank.

  Most of my friends f
rom high school are graduating college already. Here I am just struggling to take one or two classes each semester at the local community college while I work full time. And forget about a social life. I can’t afford a social life. Sometimes I feel like I’m going nowhere and all this hard work and struggling is for nothing and I’ll never move forward in life.

  But most of the time, that isn’t the case. Most of the time, I’m hopeful. I know there’s something out there for me, I just haven’t found it yet… which is probably why I’ve taken the widest variety of liberal arts classes my community college has to offer. I mean, I’ve taken puppet making. Puppet making. Who knew there was even a class for that? I know I’ll find a place for myself eventually. I’ll stumble onto something and I’ll just know. Until then, we can check bank teller and puppet maker off the list.

  “Nothing has really spoken to me yet,” I told my mom last time we talked on the phone. “I just want to find something I feel a passion for.”

  “Keep looking sweetie, the most important thing is you’re happy,” she told me.

  That must have been nearly a month ago now. My not-so-present dad died when I was nine. Sadly, it didn’t really hit me hard. He wasn’t around much and when he was we didn’t really have a real relationship. It just felt like we were going through the motions. I didn’t ever really know him and he never really knew me either.

  I don’t even know myself yet, I think bitterly. But that line of thought will do me no good. I have to stay positive and just keep my chin above the water. Then one day, it will just click. I know it. Hard work pays off. Karma is my friend. She’s just late… or lost or something.

  Happiness is the most important thing, mom said. Is that true, I wonder? It doesn’t sound quite right, but that’s my mom for you. She has always been… preoccupied. I have a brother who’s 10 years older than me. When he still lived at home things were better. More normal, at least. Then, mom acted like a mom. But when he went off to college and didn’t look back… well, it always felt like mom was simply done raising kids. Or she had raised her real kid and I was just the leftovers.

  After my brother Bradley left home, Mom and I turned into something more like roommates than anything else. As for Bradley… I haven’t seen or heard from him since his wedding. Which was like seven years ago now. I know he and his wife had kids at some point and mom made the trip up to Palo Alto to see them a few times. What were the kids’ names… Jayden? Hayden? Kayden? I won’t be winning any ‘best aunt of the year awards,’ to say the least.

  “Okay, Kate. Bedtime,” I’m going to shake off these morose thoughts and anxiety and try to relax enough to fall asleep. I stare at the parking lot lights shining through the blinds, creating lines across my popcorn ceiling. I listen to the variety of apartment life rumblings going on outside my thin walls. It’s comforting to me. It makes me feel like I’m not really alone.

  I listen to the cars driving by, bouncing over the parking lot speed bumps, music blaring an inappropriate amount of bass. A muffled conversation from the downstairs apartment. The T.V. from next door. The neighbors are watching The Bachelor. A dog is barking somewhere.

  And then… suddenly... everything is silent. It’s a complete silence that comes about so suddenly it startles me as much as a gunshot would have.

  I freeze, trying to make sense of what’s happening. I work my jaw, wondering if my ears are popping. Then, the light shining through the blinds starts to get brighter. And brighter. Until finally it’s so bright I wince at all the white light filling my apartment. Then, everything goes black.

  Chapter 2

  Rennek

  “Set controls to cruise while we wait for specs from the lab.”

  “Yes sir, Captain,” Dax replies.

  It’s impossible not to scoff, “Enough of that captain shit.” My childhood friends shoot me laughing glances. “Or at least save it for when we have an audience,” I tell them.

  I sit in the captain’s seat of my new cargo ship, fine tuning a control panel and waiting for a comm from Tennir. Nearby sit two of my four male crew. Dax and Kellen are busy conducting their own work on the bridge and the other two males, Bossan and Da’vi, are on their rest shifts in their quarters for the next few hours.

  “Drive set to cruise.... Captain,” Dax reports, his eyes on his work, yet still smiling. Always pushing the limits.

  “Ass,” Kellen and I shake our heads and laugh. Today, Dax sits at navigation, although we often rotate duties. He is likely my best pilot. As a matter of fact, he is a hell of a pilot--both in the air and in the expanse of space.

  Then there is quiet and reserved Kellen, today he is helping me do scans of the ship’s processes while waiting to direct the comm signal. Kellen is good at many things, but patience is one of his most valuable traits. I know he longs for a quiet and reserved life, which makes me that much more grateful to have him working by my side.

  All but one of my crew are males who spent their internment on Javan with me. We are all “products of war,” as they call it. As such, we were required to be raised on an internment planet built to train and mold us into honorable males, capable of making positive contributions to the United Planets.

  Our internment was many yets ago; we had since all gone our separate ways. Until three cycles ago, when I gave my old friends a call. They dropped everything for me, as I would have done for them.

  Dax, Kellen, Bossan and I spent our formative yets living and working side by side like brothers on Javan. They understand more than anyone else the importance of being called upon by one’s “proper family” and there is not one of them who does not wish for the same honor themselves. When I asked them to join me on my cargo ship there had been no question to it. We were raised together since we were no more than fledglings. We have worked together, hunted together, studied together, and grew into adulthood together. We are brothers, even if we share no blood.

  All except for for Da’vi, of course. He is the only one new to our group. I met Da’vi in a merchant spaceport during the days it took me to secure my ship.

  Spaceports are notorious for trouble and trouble seemed to be seeking me on that particular rotation. Maybe the gangs could tell I was retired UPC, maybe they thought I had credits to pinch. Whatever the reason, it was lucky Da’vi had been there. He is a male of principle and honor. In that way, we are cut from the same cloth. He stepped forward to aid me in battle--seeing I was outnumbered.

  In the end, the half dozen Canoori punks were no match for the two of us. The fight had been brutal--and though I have been taught not to bask in the rush of a battle, it is always a pleasure to punish dishonorable behavior. In any case, I immediately sensed I had a brother in Da’vi and offered him a job before we even wiped the blood from our hands.

  I focus my mind on the ship as I continue to wait for my comm, busying myself by doing scans of the engines, thrusters, warp drives… It is good to monitor these systems on a new ship, to be sure everything is functioning as it should.

  Dax and Kellen joke beside me, but I am lost in my thoughts. It brings me much happiness to be working with them again. I am often reminded how grateful I am for my friends’ sacrifices. It is my hope that one day I will be able to repay them for putting their own lives and goals on hold for me. I am a truly lucky male to have such friends. I feel the same way even for Da’vi. He has good instincts and knows much about engine and weapon systems. Other than that, however, I know little about him, save for his code of honor. But for me, honor means everything.

  In his first days with us we questioned Da’vi about himself: his people, his planet, if he had been in internment… but Da’vi is a quiet one, private. As long as he completes his tasks, it is fine with the rest of us if he does not wish to speak.

  Now here we are, three cycles and over a dozen successful transports later. Everything is running smoothly as we continue to become accustomed to our new lifestyles. It is hard to believe it was not so long ago all my efforts had been focused on rising
the ranks of the United Protectors Coalition, or the UPC. The UPC is a military/policing group which acts as law enforcement on-world and in space, serving all United Planets territory, both primitive and urban alike. It offers protection on all levels with a variety of branches. All male products of war are required to enlist in a minimum of four yets of service to the UPC post internment, but I had been drawn to the role of protector on a deeper level and enlisted for a full career path.

  I was serving on-world on Thaad as an enforcer. I had just begun to gain recognition for my work and had been rewarded for my efforts with a promotion. I was able to move out of the barracks and into my own apartment in an older part of the city. It was no palace, but it was my own and it was the first time in all my 29 yets that I lived alone. The day I moved into the small one room apartment I remember thinking I could never be filled with more pride.

  Then I got a call from my proper family. After that, I said goodbye to all my hopes for a future with the UPC, left my apartment behind, and dived into this new career with all my being. There is no greater honor, being a product of war, than being called into service by one’s proper family. I would do all in my power to make my mother, brother and sister proud and to earn a place among them.

  But for now, my crew and I work to navigate this new life as transporters for Tennir. When we aren’t learning the ins and outs of this ship, dealing with the cargo, or negotiating the fine line between legal acquisitions and black-market pirating--we make a strong effort to enjoy ourselves.

  It isn’t hard. Five males, traveling the United Planets’ systems and beyond, on a top of the line cargo ship (retrofitted with some pretty heavy-duty artillery) and our chips loaded with Tennir’s credits? We have our fun.