The High Commander's Mate : A SciFi Alien Romance (Intergalactic Alliance Series Book 1) Read online

  The High Commander's Mate

  Intergalactic Alliance Series Book One

  Bella Blair

  Copyright © 2021 Bella Blair All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 9798755474801

  Cover design by: kateslb

  Edited by: Owl Eyes Proofs & Edits

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  1. VIVIAN

  2. DRAXOR

  3. VIVIAN

  4. DRAXOR

  5. VIVIAN

  6. DRAXOR

  7. VIVIAN

  8. VIVIAN

  9. DRAXOR

  10. VIVIAN

  11. DRAXOR

  12. VIVIAN

  13. DRAXOR

  14. VIVIAN

  15. DRAXOR

  16. VIVIAN

  17. DRAXOR

  18. VIVIAN

  19. DRAXOR

  20. VIVIAN

  21. DRAXOR

  22. VIVIAN

  23. DRAXOR

  24. VIVIAN

  25. DRAXOR

  26. VIVIAN

  27. DRAXOR

  28. VIVIAN

  29. DRAXOR

  30. VIVIAN

  31. DRAXOR

  32. VIVIAN

  33. DRAXOR

  34. VIVIAN

  35. VIVIAN

  36. DRAXOR

  37. VIVIAN

  38. DRAXOR

  39. VIVIAN

  40. DRAXOR

  41. VIVIAN

  42. DRAXOR

  43. VIVIAN

  VIVIAN

  VIVIAN

  We barely came out of hyperspeed when every single alarm on the bridge sprang to life—sending a cacophony of shrill noises through my already screaming skull.

  "Major, ships are approaching," my second in command, Roger Wallingford, informed me uselessly, since the sirens wouldn't have just turned on for the heck of it.

  "How many, Captain?" Even as I asked, my eyes moved towards the huge panorama window at the front of the bridge.

  Wallingford switched from view to screen. And now, instead of staring into the void of space as I had been for the last week, I saw the screens each of my crew members had in front of them reflected on the panorama window.

  I found Captain Wallingford's monitor, set to radar, or what translated to radar for the Abbaddoths. The Abbaddoths' radars were a lot more sophisticated than anything we used on Earth. The black and orange glowing screens displayed a fleet of twenty spaceships approaching in incredible detail—and each ship's weapons was locked onto us.

  They varied in size and shape. The largest, a sleek-looking vessel, was surrounded by battleships, and I assumed it to be the flagship.

  "Get a close up of the one in the center, Captain," I commanded.

  "Aye, Major."

  A fraction of a second later, the screen split in two, and I stared at a closer image of the vessel. It was triangular in build, and its dark, gleaming onyx color made it appear foreboding.

  Tryxion, Lord High Commander Gwynn's main fighter ship. The radar announced and with my heart in my throat I read on,

  Occupancy: 750pilots

  1,000Intergalactic Special Troopers

  325crew members

  Weapons: 250laser cannons

  300blasters

  4,000missile docks

  Freeze beam model A432B

  and stopped right there as my heart dropped from my throat into my stomach. This one ship alone could obliterate us. I didn't even want to think about the nineteen others surrounding it.

  "Major?" My captain prodded, waiting for orders.

  "Establish contact," I demanded. What choice did I have?

  "Lieutenant Li, what species are we dealing with?" I asked my communications officer.

  Instead of answering, she furiously tapped on the tablet in front of her. Above, on the panorama screen, I watched her progress.

  "Weapons ready, Major?" my ship's tactical officer asked.

  "Negative, Lieutenant Ramsey, they'll vaporize us before we get a blast out," I said and was glad my voice sounded firm. The thought that this Starfleet might be of Abbaddoths origin froze my blood, and I clasped my trembling hands behind my back. I would not show any weakness in front of my crew.

  I licked my dry lips and said, "Lieutenant Ramsey."

  "Yes, ma'am?"

  "Keep weapons on standby. Lieutenant Chaff," I turned to the ship's navigation officer, "be ready to bolt at a moment's notice."

  "Yes, Major Manchester."

  The assembled officers of my crew turned towards me quizzically. Hadn't I just told them the fleet would vaporize us if we tried anything? I evenly returned each of my officers' and soldiers' gazes. What they read in my eyes must have told them all they needed to know.

  No way in hell would I allow the Abbaddoths to capture me again, nor would I permit my crew to suffer this fate. I would rather all of us die than surrender to the most malicious menace humankind had ever faced.

  "The fleet belongs to the Intergalactic Alliance," at Lieutenant Li's words, a weight dropped from my chest.

  Establishing communication with the Intergalactic Alliance was our mission's primary order. Luck seemed on my side to have run into them, rather than having to fly another few weeks—Earth time—to reach their headquarters.

  "We established contact with the communications officer on board the Tryxion, Major," Lieutenant Li announced.

  "Patch them through," I commanded.

  "Abbaddoth vessel, state your business or be prepared to be boarded," came a disembodied voice through the ship's speaker system.

  They obviously meant business, and I didn't doubt for a second, they would make good on their threat.

  The multitude of screens on the panorama monitor showed me the twenty Intergalactic Alliance cruisers closing in on us, surrounding my ship.

  I swallowed, one wrong word, and my vessel would be blown to dust. "This is Major Manchester, commanding officer of the Abbaddoth 897893b23. We are not Abbaddoths. We are humans on our way to the Intergalactic Alliance to plead for help."

  A moment of tense silence followed my words. The fingers of my clasped hands twirled around each other to release some of my otherwise stock-still body's tension. My heart rhythmically thumped in my chest, not fast, but hard. Ka-thump, ka-thump.

  I counted the beats, nine, before the voice returned, "The Lord High Commander will receive you, Major Manchester, prepare for landing on the Tryxion. You may disembark upon entering, but only you."

  "I understand."

  "Major!" Lieutenant Ramsey protested.

  "It's all right. That's what we came for." I eased my crew's worry.

  A jolt moved through the Abbaddoth 897893b23 and it reminded me of being on a train cart as it hooked to a locomotive. A breath later and my ship was pulled towards the Tryxion as if on invisible tracks. Lieutenant Chaff lifted his hands to show us that whatever was happening was without his input. We had no control over the Abbaddoth 897893b23.

  "Switch to the main screen," I ordered.

  Since we were helpless, I wanted to at least see where we were going.

  As the Tryxion pulled us closer, I couldn't help but admire the large spaceship. As a child, before the world turned to shit, I watched sci-fi movies, played with dolls from my favorite space operas, and wished with all my heart that one day I would be in outer space, commanding one of those ships.

  My mother's words, be careful what you wish for, came back to me. Because my childish wish had come true, but the price we paid for it was unimaginable—not that I thought any of this happened because of a whim or a wish I had as a kid. That would have been too inconceivable.

  The Tryxion incorporated everything I had ever imagined an alien warship to be. From its humongous size to its dark onyx coloring and the way it seemed to glide effortlessly through space.

  I noticed several docking stations, windows, weapons, and then a hatch opened. Which was where we were pulled towards, and I could make out an open hangar. I took a deep breath in. Within minutes, I would meet members of the Intergalactic Alliance. I would find out if they looked like and acted like the fear inducing Abbaddoths. Or if they would be more civilized.

  I also realized that if things turned awry, this would be the last time I had a chance to address my crew.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," I called their attention, "it has been an honor to have come this far with you. Whatever happens in the next few hours, remember each one of us is Earth's last hope."

  I realized my words didn't sound very comforting, but I wasn't the greatest speaker. Give me a weapon, any weapon, and my aim would be true, but words? I couldn't be further off the mark.

  "Captain Wallingford, should I not return, you will be in charge," I ordered.

  "Yes, ma'am." He looked at me with his deep, sorrowful eyes. None of us doubted that it wou
ld be a death sentence for all my crew members should I fail to convince the Lord High Commander to take me to the leader of the Intergalactic Alliance and plead our case.

  With our death, Earth would be doomed as well. Our mission was the last Hail Mary to survive the never-ceasing Abbaddoth onslaught on our planet.

  I gave one last glance around the bridge before I abruptly turned to leave. The hallway leading towards the ship's storage compartment and exit offered plenty of space, but the frightening green pulsing lights set into the walls unnerved me. They reminded me too much of my time with… No! I straightened my shoulders. I refused to think about that right now. If I was going to meet the Lord High Commander, I would need my wits about me and I would not be distracted by a past creeping up into my mind.

  I recognized the telltale signs of an oncoming panic attack triggered by the lights. Unfortunately, PTSD was my constant companion. Same as my never-ending headache.

  The Abbaddoth 897893b23 wasn't a big ship, so it didn't take me long to reach the storage compartment, where a few soldiers sat. Expectantly, they looked up at me as I entered. These men and women had come on this journey to protect us and had no clue about what had just transpired on the bridge—them and whoever hung out in their cabins.

  I should have made an announcement, I chastised myself.

  The storage compartment had become a break room of sorts since the ship didn't offer any other cabins large enough to assemble my crew.

  "We established contact with the Lord High Commander's fleet of the Intergalactic Alliance. I will meet with him shortly."

  Fists pumped into the air and cheers met my announcement. Thankfully, these soldiers hadn't been privy to the unnerving encounter on the bridge. I decided to leave them to their ignorant bliss for now. We wouldn't be able to fight our way out of this anyway.

  For a few more minutes, we waited in uncomfortable silence. With no windows, it was impossible to tell if we had arrived inside the hangar yet.

  Some metallic clinking and a couple of jolts later announced that we had landed wherever the high commander's crew wanted us to.

  Impatiently, I tapped my foot against the grated ground to wait for our hosts to decompress the hangar, hopefully with oxygen-rich air. Otherwise, I would be in a world of hurt.

  The Abbaddoths were an oxygen breathing species like us, but I had no idea about the Intergalactic Alliance. I didn't even really know what or who they were other than that they seemed to be our last and only hope of survival.

  With a screeching sound that reignited my headache to DEFCON three levels, I stood straight-backed, facing the hatch door as it retreated into the floor and ceiling.

  Subconsciously, I held my breath as if that would ward off any harmful gases coming my way and by the soldiers' stiffening forms, it was easy to see that I wasn't the only one.

  I ordered my feet to move towards the entrance. Head held high and chin jutted out, I walked towards the automatically extended gangway.

  I nervously eyed the ten soldiers spread out on both sides of the grated walkway, hands resting on their enormous guns strapped to their right thighs. On their left, they wore swords of all things. Black, tight-fitting uniforms with knee-high boots completed the picture.

  The hangar we had landed in was high and wide—made for larger ships than my smallish stolen vessel. Underneath the gangway, my footsteps echoed through the dome-shaped area.

  I stared at the soldiers' faces, trying to figure out what my hopeful allies looked like, but all ten seemed to belong to different species. Which, I guess made sense, when I thought about an intergalactic alliance.

  A man—a very tall man—stood at the end of the gangway. He wore the same uniform as the others.

  He appeared human-like in every aspect, except his bluish, almost turquoise skin coloring. Was he the Lord High Commander? How would I address him and—

  "Major Manchester, I assume?" he interrupted my thoughts.

  I gave him a curt nod.

  "The Lord High Commander asked me to accompany you to the meeting room."

  "Thank you." I choked out and thought, not the Lord High Commander then. My voice, along with my heart, must have dropped into my stomach. I wouldn't have really called the emotion creeping up inside of me fear—it was more unease, but it was there nevertheless.

  I had fully understood the responsibility I took on with this mission, but now, being here, brought the reality of it truly home. I wasn't just responsible for my ship and my crew. The responsibility for the lives of the last millions of humans on Earth rested on my shoulders as well. If I failed, it wasn't just a death sentence for me.

  "You instructed your crew to stay inside your spaceship?" he double-checked.

  I nodded again, not trusting my voice. I reminded myself that I had to pull myself together. Too much hinged on my ability to convince the Lord High Commander and Intergalactic Alliance to help us. Failure was not an option. And for the first time, I wondered what had possessed me to have taken on this responsibility willingly.

  "I'm Colonel Bettvallen, the Lord High Commander's second in command. I welcome you aboard the Tryxion, Major Manchester."

  Colonel probably wasn't his real title, it was just the equivalent word for whatever title he had given me and how my forced-implanted translator inside my brain interpreted it, same as Lord High Commander.

  "Thank you, Colonel Bettvallen," ah, my voice had made a full recovery and it didn't quiver either.

  "If you would please follow me," with that, he turned on his heel, yes, quite literally, expecting me to follow him.

  He was so much taller than me that I had to take two steps for each one he took, stretching my legs as much as I could, so I didn't have to run. Which would have been rather humiliating, and for a fraction of a second, I wondered if he walked this fast on purpose to make me uncomfortable or catch me off-balance. At five-seven, I wouldn't call myself short by any stretch of the imagination, but the Colonel ahead of me was easily over six feet tall.

  The other soldiers remained by the gangway, ensuring none of my crew tried to infiltrate their spaceship, I supposed bitterly. But then I scolded myself. If this were my ship, I wouldn't have done it any differently.

  The Tryxion hallways were long, wide, and tall. Muted, dark colors appeared to be the theme du jour, but at least they didn't have any pulsing green lights. Thank God for small favors.

  Instead, where the floor and ceiling met the walls, lights spilled out, warm and glowing. Doors set in regular intervals on both sides of the corridor led to unknown places, and we passed them all until we reached a fork.

  Here the corridor split into three, and the Colonel led me towards the middle of three doors close to each other. As if by magic, one entrance opened by panels sliding simultaneously to the sides. Gallantly, Bettvallen stepped to the side to allow me to enter first, and I realized I was stepping into an elevator.

  "Conference room for High Commander Gwynn," Bettvallen said as soon as he joined me inside the spacious area.

  The doors whooshed shut, and I felt a small vibration underneath my feet before my plummeting stomach told me we were going up. But then something changed—without windows—I couldn't tell for sure what, but I swore we moved sideways before going up again.

  The doors pulled back into the walls again, and Bettvallen indicated for me to exit. This hallway looked even more elaborate than the previous one. There the walls had been dark and utilitarian. Here, they were textured, making them appear rock-like.

  We didn't walk very far. At the end of a hallway, two guards stood by a large door, both had their hands on the butt of their intimidating-looking guns, and I realized I still wore my service weapon. Bettvallen never asked me to leave it behind. Curious.

  Did that mean they didn't think I was a threat? Or was the Lord High Commander so imposing that a bullet wouldn't harm him? But if that was the case, why did he need guards?

  "State your business, Colonel Bettvallen," the guard who looked like a mountain of a man, orange in color, and easily seven-foot tall challenged us.

  His counterpart was a female and probably about six feet but appeared dwarfed next to the giant. Both looked like they came from different planets.

  "The Lord High Commander is expecting Major Manchester of the humans," Bettvallen told the guards. "I will be waiting for you out here, Major."