Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 19577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Tiny problem - he's the father of her unborn children and he had no idea until now she was pregnant. Is this a secret baby plot?
(No, it's secret BABIES.)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter
One
BODHRRI
There's a knot in my throat as I pack my bag. I fold up my clothes, toss my data pad in after them, and add in my favorite mug. As a contracted worker, I don't have much to my name. It's easiest to be able to pack up and go at a moment's notice. At least, that's the line of thinking. But after fifteen years of bouncing around from job site to job site, I've found a place that it's keffing killing me to leave.
I'm in love with Risda III, and I can't stay.
My contract is over as of today, the dock expansion I and the rest of my crew were hired to work on finally completed. It's the first time I've ever been planet-side. I grew up on a station. Most of my jobs have been maintenance types on various other deep-space stations.
I never knew what I was missing. Planets have fresh air. And birds. And grasses. And stars at night.
I'm going to miss the stars more than anything.
Well, almost as much as the fresh air and the fact that my lungs feel clear here.
But I can't stay. Even if I had the credits to afford to abandon my job—I don't—Risda III is a closed world. It belongs to some rich mesakkah lord who keeps humans and sets them up on land here. Like all the laborers, I've been told to avoid the humans. I've been mostly successful at it, too. Now I wish I was one, because I'd get to stay here forever.
There's not a lot of luck out in the universe for a praxiian that comes from a poor family house, though. I can't even honorably join the armed forces or try my luck as a gladiator, thanks to my piss-poor lungs. I spent my formative years in the lowest parts of a poorly-working space station, only to destroy my lungs before I reached an age to join the military. There's no chance for me to make my fortune, so I have to take what scraps the universe offers me. Normally I've made my peace with it. Easier to be at ease with your job when every place you go to is shit.
Hits different when you're sent to paradise and told you can't stay.
I drag my feet for as long as possible, but there's only so much time I can spend packing my bag. Then there's nothing to do but leave my small rented apartment and head into Risda III's one settlement to get my contract signed off and so I can get paid. I head out of the apartments for the last time and into the bright morning sunlight. I squint up at the sky, but it's endlessly blue with a few puffy clouds drifting overhead. No stars.
Damn. I really wanted to see the stars one last time. They always make me think of that woman and that one night. The human woman who told me all about stars and wishing. Never saw her again, but I think about her all the time. Wherever she is, I hope she's happy. I hope she loves this planet every bit as much as I do.
I head out, crossing through the small town that's sprung up just outside the space port. There's a small cluster of buildings that line one street, and not much else. That's how the lord that owns this place prefers it, I'm told. I see a few humans walking about, but no one approaches me. Praxiians aren't popular on this planet. Kef, I think most males of any species aren't popular on this planet. I've noticed that most of the residents here are female and human. Anyone not human has to be ready to show paperwork at any and all times, and I notice there's a Port custodian patrolling the street. His gaze lands on me and he watches me closely as I keep my head down and head for the custodian office to get my work contract stamped so I can get paid. I don't want to cause trouble here. It's the last thing I want. One of the things that's so appealing about Risda is how very peaceful it is.
More thoughts that should never come from a praxiian.
As I always do when I go into town, I scan the residents walking the street and peer into the buildings, looking for a familiar head of long blonde hair atop a very short female. I hate that I never caught her name, and I was hoping to talk to her one more time before I left. But today, like every other day, she's simply not here. Sometimes I wonder if I imagined her.
The custodian office is quiet this early in the morning. One custodian has a woman seated across from his desk, and another is busy typing something into his data pad. I wait for them to notice me, and when the second male looks up and spots me, he waves me over.