PROLOGUE
All the blood drains from my face when I hear my name being called over the intercom. It’s blasting through the entire space station, so everyone knows I’m being summoned.
This can’t be happening. I refuse to acknowledge it’s real. I choose to ignore the request and stay focused on my job. It’s the only way to preserve my sanity.
I’m important around here. Granted, everyone is important. We all have jobs to do. Assignments. Responsibilities. No one can be lazy on a space station.
But I’m more essential than some of the others. I’m one of the oldest, which means I’ve held more responsibility than the majority of the inhabitants for twenty years.
I purse my lips and keep digging up potatoes one at a time as my name blasts through the intercom again. Two women are working with me in the agricultural wing, and they’ve both stopped to lean back on their knees and look at me.
“Isla?” Zoey whispers.
I ignore her. She’s a good friend, but I refuse to accept my fate. I won’t be dragged from my home by giant aliens. I’m in denial. They will have to take me kicking and screaming.
Our space station is failing. Our days are numbered. We’re running out of resources. We can’t continue on this current trajectory. Soon, we will be out of food and other supplies necessary to survive.
I should consider us lucky that we were discovered by an alien vessel that happened to spot us on their radar. They attached to our space station a few weeks ago and took two of our women, Luna and Adryn. None of us has a clue what their fate was. Where were they taken? Are they still alive? For all I know, they could have been boiled alive and served for dinner.
I’m not interested in finding out what happened to them. It’s too scary.
Since the day our station was boarded by several giant alien men, two of their guards have remained. They spend their days wandering around the station, watching us. A lot of the time, they’re scowling.
The sounds that come out of their mouths are unintelligible, though it doesn’t have to be that way. They obviously have advanced technology because they gave Headmistress Helena an earpiece that translates for her.
Why must the rest of us remain ignorant of their intentions?
To be fair, I’m pretty certain the headmistress is unaware of the plans these aliens have for us. They only communicate with her when necessary. She says she doesn’t know much, but she insists we must leave this space station and take our chances with the aliens. We have no other option. Anyone who doesn’t escape this station will eventually die of starvation.
There’s no reason to be dramatic. We still have some time, but we’ve known for years that the amount of food we’re capable of producing is not sufficient to maintain our lives in the long run.
We must take our chances and leave this station. It’s our only hope for survival. But I don’t want to be the third person chosen.I don’t want to be chosenat all. There’s no reason every single one of us must go to their planet.
I’m kidding myself. There are multiple reasons why we’re running out of time. Insufficient potatoes are not going to be the cause of our demise.
“Isla. Report to the medical bay immediately.” The booming voice belongs to Headmistress Helena. Her tone indicates she’s losing her patience. Or perhaps someone is holding a knife to her throat. How would I know?
“Isla…” Zoey hisses, leaning toward me.
I sit back on my heels and close my eyes, cringing as a door behind me opens, banging into the wall. Heavy footsteps that can only belong to the alien guards echo loudly in the room.
Holding my breath, I will them to leave me alone. Of all the people on this space station, why am I the third person to be summoned?
The shadows of two giant alien men tower over me a moment before two enormous hands grab my biceps and lift me out of the dirt as though I weigh nothing.
Screaming, I flail my arms and legs, trying to dislodge myself from their grasp. The aliens don’t touch any other part of me. They don’t need to. They’re able to suspend me between them, one on each side, holding my arms so tightly that there will be bruising.
I start shouting. “Put me down… I have rights… You can’t just waltz onto our station and kidnap people.”
The men most likely don’t understand a single word I’m saying. If they speak English, they haven’t let on. I find it unlikely, though. The sounds they make aren’t ones a human would be capable of imitating. The reverse is probably also true.
Jerking around and doing everything in my power to get free is futile. I’m so pissed. I don’t want to be taken from my home.I’m scared out of my mind. My heart is racing, and sweat is beading up on my forehead.
If these aliens think they can eventually subdue me, they’re mistaken. I intend to fight them with every ounce of my energy, every step of the way. Maybe they’ll decide I’m not worth the effort and choose someone else.
Not that I’d wish my unknown fate on another woman. I wouldn’t. But my sense of self-preservation is strong. I haven’t worked myself to the bone, planting, growing, and harvesting food for most of my life, so I could be kidnapped and transported to become a slave on another planet.
“Let me go!” I scream.