6. Evelyn
Evelyn
This is it. Launch day.
Time to slingshot across the universe.
Time to leave behind everything I’ve ever known.
Vonnegut Spaceport is especially busy today. The sounds of rolling luggage, beeping security scanners and thousands of people chatting washes over me.
It’s a holiday weekend, which means plenty of people are gearing up for their visits to the popular Lunar Resorts for their low-gravity holiday.
That’s the only trip even remotely affordable for the average person. Anything beyond Earth’s orbit? Forget it.
Hiking the dunes of Mars? Drifting through Neptune’s ice rings? Watching the storms swirl across Saturn from up close? Those are the playgrounds for the rich only.
And Xavros? Even the rich can’t afford it. You need to be part of the elite of the elite to go there. Having the digital stamp of Xavros in your passport is the ultimate status symbol.
And, somehow, I’m about to board a ship that will take me there.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
Madelyn squeezes my hand firmly. “For the millionth time, yes . Come on, sis, you’re going to be late.”
“Okay, okay,” I say. “Send me a video-call every week, okay?”
“Yes,” Madelyn promises. “Yes, yes, yes.”
I nod. “Okay.”
I know I’m stalling. I tell myself it’s about saying goodbye, but deep down, I know the truth. I’m terrified.
Space travel is always something that happened to other people. Astronauts. Billionaires. Not me . I could never afford it. It’s never crossed my mind as a real, actual possibility before.
And now? Now I’m standing in this glass-walled terminal, staring at the behemoth spaceship that’ll slingshot me across the known universe.
The Odyssey Prime gleams in the morning sun. Workers in bright orange flight suits do their final check-ups.
It’s enormous, but not big enough to make me forget the terrifying truth: thin walls of metal will be all that stand between me and the endless void.
A voice crackles over the speakers.
“Final call for the Odyssey Prime to Xavros. All passengers must board immediately.”
Madelyn grips my shoulders, spins me towards the security line, and gives me a loving but firm shove.
“In you go!”
This can’t be right.
And I don’t mean the spaceship that’s currently flinging me halfway across the galaxy towards an orbital station from where I’ll transfer to a shuttle bound for Xavros.
That part makes sense to me.
No, what doesn’t make sense are these documents I’m clutching right now.
As part of my on-boarding sequence, I had to sign a confidentiality agreement. It was standard fare, or so I thought: Anything I learned about Xavros would remain classified. That’s just how corporate research works.
Discoveries belong to the employer, not the scientist. I’ve signed plenty of those waivers before, and I’ve barely thought twice about signing this one.
But then, the moment I was strapped into my seat, an armed guard shoved a thick folder into my hands and told me to read it thoroughly.
It contained all the current information about my upcoming research, and I was expected to know it front-to-back.
Now, I’m staring at the first page, and my stomach is up in knots. This can’t be right.
Orc-Human Fertility Research Clinic.
My eyes read the words again. Looking for the joke or the misprint. It can’t be right.
I read it again. The words don’t change.
Orcs? As in monsters ? As, in the those guys from fantasy novels? Green skin, massive builds, big tusks? Those orcs?
No. This has got to be some lame biologist’s attempt at humor. They probably discovered some peculiar animal and decided to name it an ‘orc’.
I flip the page, my pulse thudding in my ears.
Orcs: Bipedal humanoid-like species. Average height: eight feet. Physiologically superior to humans in strength, endurance and regenerative abilities. Distinctive physical features include sloped foreheads, angular ears, and extensive tattoos, often indicative of clan lineage. Known for aggressive, territorial warfare using bladed weaponry; swords, axes, spears. Persistent fertility decline noted across their continent; root cause undetermined. Continous conflict has drastically reduced population numbers. Intellectual capacity remains under review. Genetic compatibility with human reproductive systems is the primary focus of this study.
I grip the page tighter.
Xavros isn’t some jungle paradise world teeming with exotic wildlife where billionaires sip cocktails and hunt big game.
It’s inhabited .
By an intelligent society of creatures that, by all accounts, share an uncanny resemblances to orcs.
And I’ve just been hired to determine whether they can breed women like me.
This can’t be right.