Page 7 of Bred by the Alien Prince

My teeth chattered with anticipation.

When I grabbed my luggage, I saw Derek head straight to the entrance where the attendants stood. Did we need the ID card to enter the building? Fuck me!

I looked up at the massive tower. I believed it was the tower that transported the shuttles to the beam, and each section of the tower was like its own terminal: one for NASA, another for SpaceZero, others used for private and commercial flights, and then one terminal for Outer Worlds.

I spotted a small, bustling, classic red and silver diner across the street with a large flashing red neon sign: Spaceport Diner.

The tourists and travelers packed the place, but it was the only standing restaurant in the area that looked like it still had room inside, and I needed a place to rest and get my bearings. In other words, I was here, I saw a piece of soon-to-be living history, and now I had no idea what the hell I would do but try to get home. And there was no way I was calling my mom for money. A man needed his pride.

I hurried and found a table that was still messy from a couple finishing their meal. This place smelled wonderful. I could smell the aroma of hot, greasy diner food fresh off the grill and fryer. I wanted a burger with all the fixings and a pile of those fries. Hell, make them chili cheese just for the hell of it.

Some shady-looking guy pressed his back against the far wall. He passed a yellow envelope to the couple who had just left their table. Did I just witness a drug deal?

Once he saw the couple out the door, he turned to zero in on me, as if out of everyone here, he knew I was watching him. He wasted no time sauntering over, running his hands through his shoulder length black hair. His nose was a bit too big and so was his lips, but for some reason, when you looked at the whole package it all came together to form a distinctive handsome face.

He sat down across from me and looked out the window. I followed his gaze to that massive tower, and I think I saw a SpaceZero shuttle heading inside… to think this thing could take anyone into space.

“You okay?” He said, scratching his nose. “You look like you’re waiting on something.”

I remained silent. He looked out the window and back at me again, the morning light catching his blue eyes perfectly.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” He asked with a sly grin. “This is the type of shit our grandparents dreamed about, being able to go into outer space, fly around on spaceships and shit. Even now, this is brand new to us, but our kids… well, not our kids, you know, just the next generation in general.” He explained, pulling a vape from his pocket. “To them, coming to this place and going up into space will be normal. I hear the Gen Ten are building a commercial space station that’ll orbit between the Earth and the Moon. It’ll be some sort of space city millions of people can live in.”

“That sounds cool,” I replied, still wondering why he was speaking to me. Unless he was hitting on me, and I knew this song and dance all too well. He’d proposition me to suck him off or something in the diner bathroom. No thanks.

Oh, I was into men, no doubt about that…but I wasn’t in the mood to lose my virginity when my entire life was floundering around me.

“So, you’re here for Outer Worlds, right?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Only androids are building in space. You don’t look like you’re here to mine, and you don’t look like a scientist, so Mars is out of the question.”

“Well, aren’t you perceptive?”

“I gotta be. It’s my job.”

“And what is your job?”

“Selling people things they need. This is a new industry, after all, space is the future but not everyone is chosen, you know what I mean.”

“I think so?” I asked, not sure what he was getting at. “What are you trying to do exactly?”

“My beta goal is to get to that colony; my alpha goal is to make enough money to afford my own ship.”

I laughed; the whole thing seemed so… different. “And what will you do with your own ship?”

“Be a smuggler. There are certain things on the colony and mining ships that are restricted, I can help get people the stuff they want.”

“That’s not legal.”

“Right, such as helping people secure an ID card.” He said, smiling at me.

Now, he had my full attention. “How would you get these ID cards?”

“I can make them. For two hundred bucks.”

“You can?”

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