Space aliens weren’t my biggest fear. Wyatt not being able to walk normally, not grow, be forced to watch from the sidelines as the other boys run and play? That would break his little heart, and my baby hurting was not acceptable. Not to me.
And the threats made against him? I couldn’t bare to think about that. I simply would not fail.
I startled as the crate shifted under me and I realized it was moving, swinging a bit as if being lifted and carried through the air on the end of a crane.
Everything was happening exactly as they’d told me it would.
Two days on board the freighter, arrival at the Colony. We’d landed a few hours ago, the rumble of the ship’s engines nearly rattling my teeth out of my head as we’d landed. A slight jolt when it made contact with the planet’s surface. And now, a few hours later, I was being off-loaded, stacked in their new storage facilities. I was packed in with a shipment of seeds from the Salvard Global Seed Vault. I’d been staring at their logo for so long, I could draw it in my sleep.
Apparently, the Colony was working to terraform their new planet to make it more appealing. They were bringing in plants native to every Coalition home world. I’d been sleeping next to thirty-foot tall maple, elm and locust trees. Also in the hold were spruce and drought resistant shrubs of every variety. Huge trees, too big to send via their precious transport technology.
We were headed to Base 3, where the Governor had, according to my sources, recently been mated through the Interstellar Brides Program to a woman from Earth. All of this was for her, his devotion—or obsession, depending on who told the story—was so complete that he was creating an Earth garden just for her. I would be able to sneak onto the planet because of some woman named Rachel that I’d never met.
The ways onto the planet were limited. No one from Earth was allowed unless he or she was a Coalition fighter or a bride. I wasn’t the military type. I’d never even held a gun before. The other option was to volunteer for the Interstellar Brides Program, but I didn’t meet their requirements. I had Wyatt. I was a mother. Besides, I had zero interest in being a mate of a space alien, or in leaving Earth.
No. I just wanted to get the damn story and get home. And so I was being drop shipped with a bunch of Earth trees as if by FedEx.
How this was possible on a prison planet, I wasn’t sure. But then, that was the reason for my assignment. To discover the truth about The Colony. To expose it. To get word back to Earth about what was really going on here. The shipment really was of trees and shrubs, flowers and bulbs. There weren’t military-grade arms hidden away. I’d had two long travel days to have proof of that. So was the shipment really because a governor on the planet loved his Earth mate? If that was the case, why had I been dressed in armor and warned to avoid detection at all costs? This damn suit of armor recorded everything, every heartbeat and blink of my eye, every second of activity, everything I heard or saw. If it so dangerous on the prison planet, why the trees?
Didn’t matter. Didn’t matter. Get in, get the info. Get home to Wyatt.
Shit. The armor. Stupid people back on Earth would probably download the data from it and wonder why the hell I’d just had an orgasm. I hoped not. Please, no. There were some details better left alone.
Dreaming about hunky Greek gods shoving me up against a wall and making me scream? Yep. That was one of those private kinds of things.
The crate settled with a soft bang and I checked the timer. I was to wait exactly twenty minutes, use the tools they’d given me to remove the bolts, remove the side panel, replace it, and find somewhere to hide and observe. I was supposed to remain hidden and gather information. That’s it. I had to be back here, back inside the crate in three days for the trip home. I checked my wrist unit and sighed with relief when I saw the counter was functional. Seventy hours and five minutes until I got to go home.
I had a map of the base, but they’d warned me not to trust it. The information was at least five months old and things move. They change. Empty rooms might not be empty.
But I was sneaky, and small, and quick. I’d been a gymnast in high school. I could scale walls and hang from rafters if I needed to.
When the time showed twenty minutes and two seconds, I took two deep breaths and put on my helmet before lifting the small drill to the corners of the crate and getting to work. To say I was eager to get out of the crate was an understatement. I’d never been claustrophobic before, but I was ready for some fresh air, some windows even.
Five minutes later I was free, the side replaced. I took deep breaths to calm my racing heart. God, I was really doing this. I looked around. The main lights were off in the storage room, only a few emergency beacons gave the space a soft white glow. Every crate and tree were giant shadows looming above me.
I was alone on an alien world, but I felt hunted. Watched.
Even the trees seemed to be keeping an eye on me.
Shrugging off the feeling, I scurried like a mouse to the edge of the storage room and started looking for the vents. The map I had memorized detailed a large air control system, the vents big enough for me to walk upright. The system of air tunnels formed a maze beneath the base. I tried not to think about going from one small space to another. I took a deep breath and thought about my son.
He didn’t need a weak, frightened mother. He needed me, he needed me to be strong.
And like the proverbial rat, I entered the maze. I had no choice but to try to survive it.