Alien Warrior's Baby (Scifi Alien Romance) (Zoran Warriors Book 2) by Luna Hunter Page A
Authors: Luna Hunter
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messiest of buns. My eyes have got bags under them from when I stayed up all night working on the story that Jenkins had just brushed off. To be honest, I look like a right hot mess.
Good enough .
* * *
“ H i Kate ,” Mark greets me. “I saw you coming, so I held the door. You okay?”
My chest heaves up and down with every breath, my shirt sticking to my clammy body. “Th-thanks,” I muster. Mark Townsend, the shuttle pilot, is giving me a look from under his thick eyebrows. Damn tube was delayed, so I had to run all the way from the station to get to the shuttle in time. I rest my back against the cool, metal wall, as the door hermetically closes in front of me.
“Strap in,” Mark says. “There’s a storm overhead. Might be a bumpy ride.”
“Oh god,” I groan as I strap myself into of the seats. We take off with a thundering roar, and already my stomach protests. I dive into my purse and swallow my pill, keeping my eyes shut tight.
“Still as nervous as ever, huh?” Mark says. “You’d think after the tenth time you’d learn to relax.”
“Don’t you have a job to do?” I grit through my clenched teeth.
With a chuckle he turns around, and goes back to piloting the small vessel. Over time Mark and I have developed quite a rapport. His lame jokes help distract me from the sheer terror of space travel, and he welcomes the company. Luckily for me the turbulence is not so bad this time, and within half an hour we’re approaching the Vonnegut station.
“There she is,” Mark says. “What a beaut’. Gives me shivers every time.”
“It’s just a space station,” I say.
“‘Just a’? How many dang space stations have you seen?!”
“More than I care for.”
Mark shakes his head. “Pearls before swine,” he mumbles.
I smirk. Riling him up never gets old.
“Who are you interviewing? Who’s the unlucky SOB this time?” he asks.
“Tobias.”
“You’re going straight to the big boss himself, huh? Does he know you’re coming?”
“Not yet.”
“Ha! He will soon enough, then.”
The shuttle docks, and I’m glad to be on board the Vonnegut , and off the rickety shuttle. I’ve read the reports, I know how often the shuttles get serviced – and it’s not enough to make me happy about being on one! I thank Mark for his company before making my way through the halls of the station.
I know Mr. Jenkins sent me here because Zorans are incoming, but I’m going to use this opportunity to ambush Tobias Simopoulos, the commander of this space station. According to my intel, the last few shipments of the Archer Cure disappeared from under his nose, right here on the Vonnegut . I want to know what Tobias has got to say about that.
I strut with a purpose past his secretary and right into his office. One of the things that I’ve learned on the job is that if you walk like you belong, most people won’t ask any questions. The round, pudgy man glances up at me, his eyes bulging.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” he mutters, trying to shield the pie on his desk from my view.
“Commander Simopoulos, I’m Kaitlyn Hunt from Central News. I’d like to hear your response to that shipment of AC-19, otherwise known as the Archer Cure, going missing on your station last week.”
I sit down across him and flip open my notepad before he has time to react. I tap the CN-badge on my chest, and a light blinks on. The small camera and mic inside turns on, recording our conversation.
Tobias still has his mouth full, flecks of pie crust dotting his cheeks. “I don’t know what in the blazes you’re talking about,” he mumbles, wiping his face with a napkin.
“You’re not aware that a shipment of the Archer Cure has been stolen from right under your nose, commander?”
“I never said—”
“Are you not in control of your station, commander?”
Tobias’s round face gets redder and redder as I fire question after question at him. My boss doesn’t think the missing shipments
Good enough .
* * *
“ H i Kate ,” Mark greets me. “I saw you coming, so I held the door. You okay?”
My chest heaves up and down with every breath, my shirt sticking to my clammy body. “Th-thanks,” I muster. Mark Townsend, the shuttle pilot, is giving me a look from under his thick eyebrows. Damn tube was delayed, so I had to run all the way from the station to get to the shuttle in time. I rest my back against the cool, metal wall, as the door hermetically closes in front of me.
“Strap in,” Mark says. “There’s a storm overhead. Might be a bumpy ride.”
“Oh god,” I groan as I strap myself into of the seats. We take off with a thundering roar, and already my stomach protests. I dive into my purse and swallow my pill, keeping my eyes shut tight.
“Still as nervous as ever, huh?” Mark says. “You’d think after the tenth time you’d learn to relax.”
“Don’t you have a job to do?” I grit through my clenched teeth.
With a chuckle he turns around, and goes back to piloting the small vessel. Over time Mark and I have developed quite a rapport. His lame jokes help distract me from the sheer terror of space travel, and he welcomes the company. Luckily for me the turbulence is not so bad this time, and within half an hour we’re approaching the Vonnegut station.
“There she is,” Mark says. “What a beaut’. Gives me shivers every time.”
“It’s just a space station,” I say.
“‘Just a’? How many dang space stations have you seen?!”
“More than I care for.”
Mark shakes his head. “Pearls before swine,” he mumbles.
I smirk. Riling him up never gets old.
“Who are you interviewing? Who’s the unlucky SOB this time?” he asks.
“Tobias.”
“You’re going straight to the big boss himself, huh? Does he know you’re coming?”
“Not yet.”
“Ha! He will soon enough, then.”
The shuttle docks, and I’m glad to be on board the Vonnegut , and off the rickety shuttle. I’ve read the reports, I know how often the shuttles get serviced – and it’s not enough to make me happy about being on one! I thank Mark for his company before making my way through the halls of the station.
I know Mr. Jenkins sent me here because Zorans are incoming, but I’m going to use this opportunity to ambush Tobias Simopoulos, the commander of this space station. According to my intel, the last few shipments of the Archer Cure disappeared from under his nose, right here on the Vonnegut . I want to know what Tobias has got to say about that.
I strut with a purpose past his secretary and right into his office. One of the things that I’ve learned on the job is that if you walk like you belong, most people won’t ask any questions. The round, pudgy man glances up at me, his eyes bulging.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” he mutters, trying to shield the pie on his desk from my view.
“Commander Simopoulos, I’m Kaitlyn Hunt from Central News. I’d like to hear your response to that shipment of AC-19, otherwise known as the Archer Cure, going missing on your station last week.”
I sit down across him and flip open my notepad before he has time to react. I tap the CN-badge on my chest, and a light blinks on. The small camera and mic inside turns on, recording our conversation.
Tobias still has his mouth full, flecks of pie crust dotting his cheeks. “I don’t know what in the blazes you’re talking about,” he mumbles, wiping his face with a napkin.
“You’re not aware that a shipment of the Archer Cure has been stolen from right under your nose, commander?”
“I never said—”
“Are you not in control of your station, commander?”
Tobias’s round face gets redder and redder as I fire question after question at him. My boss doesn’t think the missing shipments
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