Page 1 of Legacy for the Alien Warrior

CHAPTER ONE

The warning bell for the upcoming shift change woke Kara from a restless sleep. The converted storage room she and Rory had claimed as their own was small, shabby, and uncomfortable, but it had a door she could lock from the inside and it was blessedly quiet. The noise and confusion of the huge barracks provided for the miners had been too much for Rory. She turned to check on her son, who slept curled against her side, his small body radiating warmth.

His eyelids fluttered, dark lashes against pale skin. The bruise-like shadows beneath his eyes had deepened over the past months. He was too thin. They both were.

When the aliens who had taken them from Earth had sold them to Grentz, the overseer of the asteroid mining settlement, she had been able to talk him into putting her nursing skills to use—a much better alternative than his original plans for her—but she hadn’t been able to talk him into additional rations for Rory.

“If he doesn’t work, he doesn’t eat,” he said, staring at her from those disconcerting compound eyes.

“He’s not old enough to work,” she protested, but he only shrugged.

“He’s small enough to make his way into places that others can’t.”

The thought of her precious, fragile son crawling through cracks in the rock horrified her. Fortunately, Grentz hadn’t insisted. Unfortunately, he hadn’t relented on the allocation of rations.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. Rory’s reactions to food were… unpredictable. Even though she encouraged him to eat as much as he wanted from the food she received, he simply ignored most of it. Not that the food appealed to her either, but she was an adult without sensory issues, and she could force herself to choke it down.

Thankfully, a large canister of nutritional supplement had been part of the limited supplies in the medical unit and she could usually get Rory to drink some. She gave the almost empty container a worried look.

Once it ran out, she would have to put in a request for more, and she wasn’t sure Grentz would agree. He didn’t believe in wasting credits “pampering” the workers. Only the fact that an injured worker was unproductive had been sufficient to convince him to provide some rudimentary medical supplies. She’d become very good at making do over the past six months. She could splint broken bones with scrap metal, stitch wounds with whatever thread was available, and diagnose infections with nothing more than painfully gained experience.

Six months.She looked at the neat pattern of markings she’d made on the wall and bit back a wave of despair. It felt as if they’d been trapped here for an eternity, and she couldn’t see any hope in changing.

There has to be a way out of here, she thought, not for the first time.

There were no walls around the mining settlement, and there was nothing to keep them in—nothing except the certainty thatthere was no way to survive outside it. The asteroid had enough of an atmosphere that the air was breathable, even though it contained less oxygen than Earth’s atmosphere, but there was no water available on the surface, let alone any type of plant or animal life. They wouldn’t survive more than a few days without water, even assuming they could make it through one of the long, frigid nights.

The noise level outside the medical unit had steadily been increasing since she woke, and she sighed and turned to Rory. His chest rose and fell so peacefully that she hated to wake him—he rarely slept well—but it was time to collect their small portion of rations from the dining hall. However minimal and unappealing, it was better than starvation.

She put a gentle hand over his and stroked her thumb back and forth in a rhythmic motion. Huge grey-blue eyes, so like her own, immediately flew open.

“Morning, sunshine,” she said as cheerfully as she could manage, and he gave her a tiny smile in return. “Let’s go and get some breakfast before the crowds gather.”

She was only half-joking. It was better to avoid the rush of miners coming off the night shift.

But those who were angry and frustrated about their situation didn’t always care who received the brunt of their frustration.

And then there were the guards. She shuddered again. They all seemed to possess a level of casual brutality which made her skin crawl. Although Grentz had forbidden them from touching her, a few of them were sadistic enough that the knowledge that they would be punished didn’t always dissuade them. She’d had a few close calls—they both had—but so far no one had done them any actual harm. Still, better to keep out of their way as much as possible.

“Today’s going to be a good day,” she told Rory, the same lie she told every morning.

He didn’t respond verbally—he never did—but his fingers found hers and squeezed three times. Their code.I love you.

She squeezed back four times.I love you too.

She helped him into his oversized coat—a castoff from one of the miners who’d died of lung rot. The sickness had been too advanced when he came to her, and she hadn’t been able to save him. Her regret hadn’t prevented her from taking the coat. Even though it was far too big for his small frame, he loved the weight of it, the pressure against his skin. One of his ways of coping with this hellish place.

The medical unit was quiet as they slipped out of the storage room. The night shift emergencies had been handled, and the day’s injuries hadn’t yet begun. It wouldn’t last. By midday, she’d be elbow-deep in lacerations, crush injuries, and the occasional severed limb. The mining equipment was old, dangerous, and the safety protocols nonexistent.

She led Rory towards the mess hall, taking the route they walked every day. Routine was essential for him—one of the few comforts she could provide. Same path, same turns, same landmarks. In a world of chaos, predictability was sanctuary.

As they slipped between the worn, dusty buildings that made up the above ground portion of the mine, he trailed his fingers along the walls in the exact same pattern he always did—three taps, a long stroke, three more taps.

The mess hall stank of synthetic protein and unwashed bodies, and even though it was still relatively unoccupied, she kept Rory close as they approached the dispenser.

“Morning, nurse.” The server’s voice held no warmth. “Double portion today. Boss says you earned it after saving Pit Team Six yesterday.”

She didn’t thank him. Extra food wasn’t generosity—it was a calculated investment. She’d kept valuable workers alive, so her value increased temporarily. Tomorrow, when no emergencies required her skills, they’d be back to starvation rations.

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