Page 4 of Alien Engineer's Mate

Reaching up, she touched his cheek, her heart aching at how quickly he'd had to grow up. She and James had wanted the kids to stay kids as long as possible. Life was hard enough without them getting started early.

“Everything's fine," she lied. "Get some sleep. Early shift tomorrow."

He nodded, ducking into the bedroom he shared with Kyle. She stood in their small living room, listening to the sounds of her children settling in for the night. Through the thin walls, she could hear other families in their pod block doing the same…quiet voices, the hum of equipment, and the ever-present rattle of air filters.

Reaching down, she picked up James's shirt-cushion and held it against her chest. He’d promised that things would get better. But that had been before the accident… before she'd been left alone to navigate this harsh life with three kids.

Before rotor blades exploded and fines ate up their survival money.

The tablet chimed again. Ignoring it, she began her nightly routine of checking the seals on their air filters, testing Kyle's medical equipment, and then she sat down to figure out how to stretch their resources just a little further.

Twenty thousand credits.

She'd find a way. She had to.

2

The dust storm hit without warning.

Eira cursed under her breath as the first gritty gust slammed into her, almost wrenching the patched satchel from her shoulder. She ducked into the nearest doorway—a recessed airlock hatch long since welded shut—and pressed her back to the corroded metal. Her goggles fogged up, the cracked seal letting in a fine, persistent spray of sand that made her eyes water. She fumbled with the mask strapped to her face, its frayed elastic digging into her scalp. The filters rattled weakly as she inhaled, their faded green lights flickering like dying fireflies.

Three months, she thought. It had been three months since maintenance had flagged her filters and three months of promises from her shift supervisor that the overtime pay she needed to replace them would come through. That was before Colony Director Richardson had vanished to his villa at the Eastern Beacon, leaving every request in the settlement to rot in his inbox while they struggled to breathe. She snorted to herself as she huddled in the doorway. It must be nice; the perks of being descended from the original captain.

She counted the seconds between wind bursts, the way her father had taught her when she was small enough to ride on his back through these same rust-scabbed corridors.Wait for the lull. Move fast. Don't look up.

The storm's howl dipped, and that's what she was waiting for. Lurching forward, her boots skidded on the sand-slick plating. She only made it six paces before the next wave hit. Her mask slipped, a curse torn from her lips as grit stung her cheeks.

Somewhere beneath the roaring, she heard Grace's voice, bright and rehearsed, reciting the safety drills they all learned as kids:"Seal your mask first, then help others. Never remove it outdoors. If your filters fail?—"

"Not today," she muttered, though the words dissolved into a cough as she swiped her sleeve across her goggles, smearing the dust.

The general stores loomed ahead, its flickering sign spelling outGEN'L SUPPLIESin sputtering orange letters. Fucking orange. What was it with the expedition planners and the fucking color orange?

The entrance scanner beeped at her when she shoved her wrist under it, the door shuddering halfway open before jamming. She shoved her shoulder against it and squeezed through the gap, the sudden stillness of climate-controlled air making her sway as it slammed shut behind her.

The store was all flickering fluorescents and the reek of recycled plastic. Leaning against a shelf of discounted plastar blankets (orange again), she removed her goggles and blinked grit from her lashes.

Two people stood at the counter up front: a colonist in a grease-stained coverall jabbed a finger at Beck Aaron, the store master, who leaned back on his stool with the weary patience of a man who'd long since run out of fucks to give.

"—Stillthree daysuntil ration reset," the colonist's voice cracked. "My kid can't keep synth-gruel down as it is. You're telling me there's no discretionary allowance? Not even for?—"

Beck scratched his salt-and-pepper beard and shook his head. "Supplier's late. Again. Blame the tariffs."

"Tariffs? You think I care abouttariffswhen my daughter's?—"

"Take it up with the Director." Beck's tone didn't change, but she heard the unspoken weariness. The store master was the frontline for everyone's complaints about the rationing and shortages. She didn't know how he coped with it all the time.

"I don't know how you people live with yourselves?—"

She tuned their conversation out, her attention caught by a stack of leaflets piled next to a dented bin of discounted respirator parts. They were actual physical leaflets. Brightly printed paper that felt silky under her calloused fingers when she picked one up. Her lips curved in a small smile. Grace would lose her mind over them. The kid hoarded scraps like a magpie: foil wrappers, broken circuit boards, anything she could glue into her school scrapbook.

This leaflet was all shimmering silver ink and swirling alien script, the kind of glossy propaganda reserved for off-world resorts. A headline in looping Terran curled across the top:SEEK NEW BEGINNINGS AMONG THE STARS.

She snorted. Yeah, right. Been there, done that. The stars weren't all they were cracked up to be. Beneath the cursive, a cartoonish depiction of a heavily muscled alien almost wearing a black suit offered a bouquet of fantastical flowers to a woman.Latharian Mate Program, the subheading read.Cultural exchange initiative... mutual prosperity... relocation assistance...

The colonist at the counter stormed out, almost colliding with her on the way. She caught a glimpse of his face—sallow,sunken-eyed—before he vanished through the door into the storm.

"Eira." Beck motioned her forward, already rummaging under the counter. His hands emerged with a small glass bottle half-filled with small pink capsules.

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