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  Alpha’s Temptation

  Lillian Sable

  Copyright © 2019 by Lillian Sable

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  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

  Also by Lillian Sable

  Lillian Sable

  Chapter One

  The ration line stretched long, skirting the edges of the transfer station and continuing down the stairs that led to the reception hall. Scratchy fabric from her stolen jumpsuit irritated Aura’s skin, but she knew better than to fidget from the discomfort. She had to draw as little attention to herself as possible.

  But she shouldn’t have worried, nobody cared much for one skinny creature in the human morass of bodily stink that was overpowering in the stale and recycled air.

  This queue had stretched for days. It was only in recent hours that Aura could see the end. Rows of uniformed Sotiri, their blindingly white armor offensive against the drab grays and browns of the seething crowd, handed out rations with excruciating slowness.

  No one knew for certain who these saviors were or where they had come from. It had been a generation since the last time anyone had accessed the station from the outside.

  Perhaps the Sotiri were aliens. Although their forms appeared human, if overly large, under their uniforms. They rarely spoke. And when they did, the sound was guttural and electronic as if deliberately altered. They did not eat the food they passed out or even appear to breathe the recycled, oxygen-poor air. The Sotiri had simply appeared, their small ship docking without resistance, and took stock of what they’d found. Most of the station's inhabitants focused too much on avoiding dehydration and starvation to put up a fight. And the Sotiri had endeared themselves when they handed out food.

  They had even instructed the ship’s inhabitants to call them Sotiri, an old word from a forgotten dialect that meant savior. It could not be a coincidence. But who they were and what they wanted didn’t matter to people who were starving.

  Even Aura rarely put her mind to any of those questions. The Sotiri could hand out pure poison and all off of the station's inhabitants would wait for it, just to have something filling their bellies. The station had been derelict for so many years that living memory did not exist of how things had once been.

  Citadel Station was something to behold once, at least according to the stories that Aura was told as a child. The great fortress of the outer reaches had been a wonder of scientific advancement in its prime. It stood as the central figure among the Planetary Alliance and for more than a millennium was a hub of trade and culture for the known universe.

  But a century under siege had turned its grandeur to near squalor. Its fall began, as these things so often did, with civil war. The station changed hands from one invader to the next as Alliance planets warred against each other in petty territorial disputes. The Citadel remained trapped in the middle, reliant on others support for food and basic supplies. When a planetary defense system had mistakenly targeted it and knocked the station off course, the Citadel's navigational computer was damaged beyond repair and it was sent hurtling off into space.

  By the year of Aura’s birth, the station was a floating cesspool with a million residents struggling to survive. Despite the stories told at night as they clustered around heating coils, Aura had no memory of the Citadel as anything except a dank hell.

  But the Sotiri were something different from conquerors. What they looked like remained a mystery, anything could lie beneath the armored uniforms and thick helmets they wore. Save for the fact that they were larger in both width and stature than any of the starved residents of the Citadel, the Sotiri could be human.

  They enforced order with their patrols and appeared to be making repairs to critical systems on the station that had not functioned properly in years. But what could truly be frightening was their silence. These soldiers stalked the halls with only the slight hum of their re-breathers announcing their approach, never speaking a word as they passed.

  Except none of that mattered because the Sotiri provided rations. Food was the only thing that could tempt the huddled denizens of the ship out of their warrens and out into the open.

  But being out in the open was dangerous in a place where someone would slice your throat simply to lick the juice of a boiled rat off of your fingers. The rats were cancerous, exposed to radiation from the nests they made in the hull of the ship, but also the primary source of food for the populace. Starvation killed faster than the spreading sickness, although all eventually succumbed.

  Auntie Nona told her once that there had never been a time in the entirety of human history when it was safe to be a woman alone. The Citadel was no different. Aura remained very aware of the fact that she was not only alone but exposed.

  Her monthly courses had yet to even begin, although she was of an age for it. A lifetime of near-starvation had robbed her of any chance at a woman’s curves. Aura considered that to be one of the few benefits of her stunted life on the station. She had no use for men or the inevitable results of their attention.

  She already had a family to worry about. The twins were too young to feed themselves and Auntie Nona too old. Aura was the only one who could brave the hallways to collect the small portion of rations. Although the largesse of the Sotiri was a recent phenomenon, Aura had enough experience to understand that the line would remain calm only as long as the rations were available, which never remained the case for long. The moment that the last vacuum pack was tossed out, this place would descend into madness. The Sotiri seemed interested in maintaining control but would retreat from an angry crowd this large and desperate.

  Aura knew that she had to be long gone before that happened, snuck back into the maintenance tunnels where her family made their home.

  It sometimes made her wonder if these invaders planned for it all along, deliberately reducing the availability of the rations to stimulate the worst impulses of the population. She couldn’t begin to guess why, but most likely for their own amusement. The soldiers did nothing to intervene as starving people tore at each other, taking out their anger and desperation on the nearest flesh around them.

  Aura tugged at the fabric of her jumpsuit, attempting to shift it away from the sensitive skin of her chest. The garment hung loosely on her emaciated frame, contributing to a general appearance of boyishness. Her long dark hair was pushed up under a cap. Auntie Nona had woven it for her from synthetic fibers salvaged from an old work blanket that Aura had recovered somewhere in the bowels of the station. There had been enough material to make a new pair of socks for each of the twins, the first gift they’d received in their young lives.

  The twins were just past six cycles in age. Their mother had died in the darkness bringing them into the world. Newborn squalling had been enough to lure Aura from the safety of the tunnels and now they belonged to her.

  Aura’s memories of her own mother were amorphous, with an image burned into her mind of a beautiful woman with hair as dark as hers and a voice like the low-pitched wind blowing through the tunnels at night. Her mother had succumbed to the coughing plague that ravaged the station almost ten cycles past, but Aura could be more
for the twins.

  Auntie Nona had kept her safe when Aura would have otherwise starved. Now she did the same for her only living relative and for the children. It always surprised her to find that most of the other inhabitants of Citadel Station did not share her instinct to nurture, that so many of them seemed concerned only with their own needs and desires.

  Their selfishness had always baffled her and likely always would.

  Disappearances had increased since the Sotiri arrived at the station. Aura chalked that up to the rations they provided. Something of value, like easily digestible food, quickly became something worth killing for.

  The front of the line drew closer and Aura maintained the same shuffling gait of those around her. She remained aware of the fact that potentially hostile and starving people surrounded her, trapped amid kindling awaiting the smallest spark before it would set aflame.

  It was almost all men who waited in the crowd, although most women were like Aura and clever enough to hide their attributes. They all knew it was a good idea to conceal themselves from any who might take what was not being offered.

  There were always those who mated willingly and traded their favors for food or safety but Aura was not one of them. The thought of a sweaty, heaving form spasming atop her was so repugnant that starvation presented a more favorable option.

  She had made it far enough that the row of Sotiri soldiers was only a handful of people away. There were only four of them. But as always, the Sotiri seemed like so much more than they rightfully should. Each stood at least two heads taller than the desperate and dirty supplicants surrounding them. Their shoulders were nearly as wide as Aura was tall, she shuddered to think of what they would be capable of if moved to violence.

  But the Sotiri had never been violent, at least not here on the Citadel. Their invasion was practically complete at their arrival and with minimal bloodshed. The real battle had been won in the unforgiving space surrounding them, with the Sotiri fleet’s ability to traverse the empty expanse separating the station from inhabited space.

  What little Aura knew of them came from whispered stories and the long memory of Auntie Nona, who knew the most about the Citadel and how it once had been.

  The low thrum of a re-breather vibrated through her bones and set Aura’s knees to shaking. She steeled herself for the harsh voice, made more intimidating by the artificial growl of the mask that kept the Sotiri separate from the poisoned air on the station. These soldiers never exposed themselves within the station, likely out of concerns for contamination. Aura tried not to think about that as she took a deep and shaking breath, feeling robbed of oxygen even as she pulled needed air into her lungs.

  “How many?” The voice growled, seeming almost disembodied as the impenetrably black mask turned in her direction. His words sounded strange to her ears as if the language had not come naturally, perhaps because of some translation interface. It was impossible to know for sure where he looked as the mask concealed his face. She forced herself not to contemplate what sort of monstrosity might lie beneath.

  Aura took another breath, this time through her nose, and was assaulted by the stench of too many unwashed bodies in a single space. She nearly gagged on her words. “Myself and three others.”

  A gloved hand the size of a dinner plate hovered over one of several bins full of rations, as the soldier spoke again. “What is your orientation?”

  It was the first time someone had asked her such a question, and the surprise momentarily overshadowed her fear. “What difference does it make?”

  Annoyance was clear in the altered voice of the soldier. “Nutrient profile is tied to biological needs.”

  Aura knew better than to lie, fearful that rations would be withheld if they discovered a mistruth. Though other questions swirled on the tip of her tongue, she pitched her voice low enough to barely be heard over the noise of the re-breather. “Female, along with one other. And two children, a girl and a boy.”

  “How old is the other adult female?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Past the ability to bear offspring?”

  Aura swallowed hard as panic set in. They had questioned no one else in hearing like this. “Yes.”

  The Sotiri thrust four packs, one colored differently than the rest, into her arms. Without further acknowledgment, he spoke to the next person pressed in close behind her.

  “How many?”

  Knowing better than to linger, Aura hefted the plastic-wrapped bundles under each arm and scurried away. She remained alert for grasping hands as she strode toward the nearest access panel in the ship’s hull, relaxing only the smallest amount once she entered the maintenance shaft and pulled the panel shut behind her.

  The tunnels were vast, spanning the entire length of the ship and as intricate as a maze. Aura had little fear of pursuit once inside the metal labyrinth. She had spent her lifetime memorizing its twists and turns, capable of outmaneuvering anyone who might try to follow her back to the small space her family had secured near an engine compartment. Her home was in one of the warmest parts of the ship and welcome heat washed over her as she drew closer.

  To be warm and well-fed was one of the greatest pleasures that Aura could imagine.

  Her aunt eagerly awaited her return, grabbing up the packages and ripping into them until Aura’s admonishment slowed her down.

  “We have to keep them separated.” Aura pointed to the color-coded marks on the now torn packaging. “These are for the children.”

  Nona raised a questioning brow. She continued to tear at the plastic, although more slowly than before. “It’s never been that way before.”

  “For the nutrients, they said.”

  The older woman seemed dubious but shrugged it away. “Food is food, who am I to question it.”

  Aura peered around her aunt’s slight form to where the children huddled near the sleeping pallet they all shared. She had arranged the pillows and blankets there herself, finding she could be very particular about their shape and positioning. A small burst of pleasure always accompanied the sight, although the source of that tiny spark of joy had always remained a mystery.

  Auntie Nona never seemed to give much attention to the arrangement of their sleeping space. Aura would often rush to correct the position of a pillow that had been carelessly tossed to the side or fix the edge of a blanket that had become untucked.

  She beckoned at the children. They ambled slowly forward, hampered by the fatigue of empty bellies and wasted muscle. Though Lida was a girl and Kestri was a boy, their youth made them virtually indistinguishable. Both were slight and tow-headed with faces that would have been rounded save for persistent malnutrition.

  Aura observed the others to ensure that they had a sufficient amount before bending over her own portion. Even with the injunction about rations being allocated based on biological need, she would have taken from her share for the children if she thought they required it. Upon inspection, the rations appeared nearly identical save for a slight sheen on hers that she could only make out when it was held up to the light.

  They knelt together and ate, huddled near a heating coil that had been exposed by removing the panels which would normally keep it concealed inside of the ship’s hull. Aura reached across the narrow space to swipe an errant crumb from Lida’s cheek, gratified at the small smile that flitted across the girl’s face.

  She often obsessed over the children in a way that even Auntie Nona considered strange. Aura sometimes had to remind herself that they were not hers and that her intense desire to care for and cherish them did not arise from biology. Not that the nature of their birth mattered to her at all, they were defenseless and so she would do anything to protect them.

  “Enough?” Aura asked Kestri, watching closely as his eyes grew heavy-lidded. She only drew back, satisfied, when he gave an emphatic nod.

  Soon after their shared meal, Aura tucked away the remaining food which would have to be made to last through at least the week. Th
e Sotiri were only so generous with their offerings, providing just enough to keep the population complacent with their occupation. But it wasn’t enough to fill their bellies.

  Nona aided her in putting the children to bed. As always, Aura paid special attention to the pillows and blankets that she fluffed up around their bodies until the sense of calm that descended over her alerted that the arrangement was just right.

  Aura sat up for a bit longer after Nona retired, watching the twin's sleep. It was as if she needed this time to convince herself that all was well before taking her own slumber. Sated by the rations for the first time in days, Aura laid down between her young charges, letting the gentle rhythm of their breathing lull her to sleep. For a moment, caught on that fragile boundary between consciousness and oblivion, she could almost believe that some small hope might be found in all this madness.

  Aura awoke overheated.

  Normally a comfort, the heat had become something oppressive and intolerable. She kicked at the blankets only to find they had already been pushed aside and her body was bared to the air.

  She crawled from her sleep space, careful not to disturb the bed’s other occupants until she was pressed against the floor. Even the frigid metal did nothing to ease the burning that seemed to come from deep inside of her.

  Her breathing was only shallow pants as sweat beaded off her skin to gather in a pool around her body. Fever raged inside of her, she sensed it in every cell of her being. She felt only moments from combusting into flame.

  Was this the sickness that took so many from the Citadel’s population each year? It couldn’t be. The spreading sickness did not begin with fever, but a hacking cough that could not be controlled. It eventually led to expelled fluid from the throat and other orifices that was darker and more viscous than blood. Fever accompanied it, but not until after many days of illness and only once the person was near-death. This had to be something else.