Raelor Read online

  Raelor

  A Trekkers Story

  Terra Wolf

  Juno Wells

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Two Weeks Later

  14. Chapter 1

  The End

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by Terra Wolf

  Raelor: A Trekkers Story

  All Rights Reserved worldwide.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without permission from the author. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this book at the authorized online outlets.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Some may be used for parody purposes. Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.

  Foreword

  A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away… Wait, this isn’t that story. Nope. This is a story about a guy and a girl who are not related. (Because that was kinda gross, right?)

  Floating along in space is the Titan, a monster size ship with, well, monster size men on it. You’re welcome.

  They’ve got a hundred varieties of space men, but they all have one thing in common. They’re delicious. And looking for love. Sometimes in all the wrong places.

  No one on the Titan realizes quite what they’re getting into with human women. Mates are forever, but they haven’t been part of the Trekker way for nearly a century. But now some of the military operatives have found that they’re willing to risk their mission, possibly even their lives, to keep these women close to them and safe.

  Good luck, Trekkers. You’re going to need it.

  Chapter 1

  Marci

  “Is this your idea of a sick joke?” Marci screamed at her therapist, the only person she considered to be something of a friend. “Seriously, this is not okay and honestly is overstepping your boundary. No wait, this is overstepping all boundaries!”

  “Marcella, please.” Dr. Wilson used her calming inflection in an attempt to soothe Marci’s panic, as if her own actions were completely normal.

  Dr. Wilson was a longtime acquaintance that Marci started seeing after her latest relationship went up in smoke. She knew if she was going to talk to someone about how ridiculous all the men she ever encountered were, it would have to be someone who she knew was first, more of a train wreck than she was, and second, knew her well enough to know that the ridiculousness was clearly coming from the losers she found and not at all from Marci. Dr. Wilson, or Olivia as she was known back in her grade school days, checked off both these items on Marci’s therapist must-have list.

  Like Marci, Dr. Olivia Wilson was in her mid-twenties and appeared to have her shit together. Good job, a doctor even, pretty without the help of gobs of makeup, and an Instagram hashtag devoted solely to her pride and joy Boston Terrier. Unlike Marci, Olivia had been engaged twice but never made it to the altar. Her first engagement ended with her a public hot mess, refusing to get out of bed and losing about fifteen pounds of salty tears. Her second engagement came shortly after and ended before the ink dried on the invitations to the engagement party. Turned out Bachelor #2 was into the “leading a double life thing,” and had another fiancée on the other side of the city. This entire saga all played out like a soap opera on every form of social media in all seven galaxies.

  Even though she had more flawed relationships than Marci, Olivia was an old classmate, and sometimes it was better to hand over your hard earned cash to a hot mess you knew than some other sucker who was going to tell you were the problem. So, when Marci searched for a therapist at her pushy mother’s insistence, Dr. Wilson seemed to be as good as any.

  Coincidentally, Dr. Wilson and her mother were the only two people in seven galaxies to call her by her birth name, Marcella. Marcella was a ridiculous name and why Marci had always been Marci when introducing herself. Dr. Wilson’s refusal to call her by her preferred name was just one of the reasons Marci was particularly annoyed with her during their session. The other reason was Dr. Wilson’s complete disregard for any type of ethical code.

  A therapy session with Dr. Wilson rarely made any reference to Marci’s past relationship with her ex, Peter. Marci and Peter had happily dated for two years, and just when she was expecting him to ask to take their relationship to the next level, he had other ideas and decided to take up roots as far away from her as possible on another planet, leaving her high and dry with not even a text message to explain.

  This was their ninth session together and Marci was no closer to feeling closure over her lost relationship with Peter than Dr. Wilson was at getting hitched to her two-timing ex beau. In fact, their sessions were primarily spent with Dr. Wilson going on about her latest night out on the town and this week’s gentleman caller, who was helping to fill the void of her diamondless ring finger. Her constant suggestion was that Marci do the same. Follow in her footsteps and look for closure in as many boxer briefs as possible.

  Her newest suggestion. No, her newest imposition was a forced attempt to get her to “step outside of her box” and mingle.

  “Marcella, for the millionth time, this will be good for you!” Dr. Wilson pleaded with Marci. When that didn’t work, she added, “Well, it’s already done, you can’t just tell the federal government no thanks.”

  Marci, astounded, blurted, “Oh I’ll tell the government more than no thanks! I’ll be sure to tell them how my therapist broke an ethical code to her patient and the law to falsify information and impersonate that patient to sign up for the AEP!”

  Decades ago, scientists discovered the existence of six other galaxies beyond the Milky Way. Each of these galaxies had multiple planets with the capability of life, similar to life on Earth. After heated debates about what to do with this knowledge and exploring this unknown territory, a new governmental body was formed to oversee the interactions among the galaxies and encourage peace and understanding. This governmental body became known as the Galactic Alliance, which maintained the peace between the galaxies by creating and enforcing strict rules. The AEP, also known as the Alien Exchange Program, was Rule #4. Rule #4 stated that all galaxies may have representatives from their galaxy travel to another galaxy for the purpose of gathering cultural intel in exchange for allowing this same collection of data within their own galaxy.

  The AEP was basically the same as having a foreign exchange student in a high school, except the student wasn’t just from a country on the other side of the globe, and was actually not a student at all. This being was from another galaxy, an alien in the truest meaning of the word, and they came to live in a human’s house, following them around and eating their food.

  The AEP also had a subset of their organization called the Celestial Mates Dating Agency. And of course, Olivia had filled out additional paperwork for Marci to join that little club too. But she hadn’t mentioned that additional bit yet, and she wouldn’t until Marci stopped exploding all over her office.

  “Thanks a lot, Dr. Wilson. You have officially screwed up my life more than any ex-boyfriend!” Marci screamed as she slamm
ed the door to her therapist’s office. She opened it again only to add, “What the fuck am I going to do with an alien?!”

  Marci emerged into the waiting room red faced and breathing heavily, ready for her next tantrum, only to find several children and their irritated mothers looking at her in disbelief. In her kindest voice, she uttered what was supposed to be an apology and slithered out to her car.

  The entire car ride home, she continued to glare at the AEP acceptance letter that was staring at her from the passenger seat. Out of the millions of people that lived on planet Earth, there had to be a healthy handful that actually wanted to participate in such a ridiculous endeavor. Marci herself just couldn’t wrap her head around it. She couldn’t help but think this was the act of the ultimate Big Brother, sending an alien being to watch her every move and report back to their leader. Why? What good could this outrageous act of espionage accomplish? She knew the politically correct response, which was peace. With more knowledge about the things that were different came peace, which in return provided the temporary relief that there weren’t six galaxies out there plotting how to destroy Earth and all its pathetic human occupants. Marci had her own response. Fuck peace in the Galactic Alliance, fuck aliens, and most importantly, fuck Dr. Wilson!

  Back at her tiny one-bedroom apartment, Marci sunk into the middle of her worn out couch to wallow in her own self-pity. She was still seething over her current life situation, but there was little to nothing she could do about it now. So she did what any Earth woman would do and drowned her sorrows in a bottle of wine.

  The next morning, she woke up late for work and with a ridiculous wine headache. After a lot of deep breathing in the shower, she convinced herself she was going to live and threw on an outfit fit for a health insurance call center worker. She was living every psych major’s dream. That awkward time of having no money because her student loans kicked in and needing to save money to go to grad school. Grad school was the only option for psych majors who actually wanted to do something in their field. Until then, she was stuck spending her days living in call center paradise.

  Truthfully, the call center wasn’t terrible. Marci had a quota of calls to make. After she was done begging people to pay their bills or getting hung up on, the rest of her eight-hour shift was hers. She was allowed extra breaks if she fulfilled her quota, so she found herself with extra time outside, sitting on a bench in the sunshine. Marci pulled out the crumpled Alien Exchange Program acceptance letter to examine it. This time, she was no longer experiencing the same anger and panic. This time, she read each word over and over, thinking about what she had gotten into and processing the details.

  Once she got over the initial irritation that this situation was really going to put a damper on her entire life, she started imagining what it would be like to share every part of her life with an alien being. The way the AEP was designed, Marci would be receiving an information packet shortly that would give her all the information she would need to know about her alien guest. She would also receive her date and pick up time to get the alien from her local docking station. It was all very convenient, just like picking up your distant relative from another galaxy to stay here for a month. One month, she could handle one more.

  But as she dragged her finger over every word, reading it for probably the tenth time, she realized there was a seal stamped into the back of the paper.

  “What the hell?” She took a closer look and immediately saw the symbol for the Celestial Mates Dating Agency. “You have got to be kidding me.” So now not only did Dr. Wilson sign her up for peace and prosperity, but she tried to get her a mate? This was some truly archaic bullshit.

  An alien was going to come live with her. One who thought they were destined to be together. Great. Just fucking great.

  Marci spent the rest of her day researching alien beings. She might not have been thrilled about this so-called adventure, but she surely was going to be well versed in what was about to show up at her door. After a few hours scrolling through cyberspace, Marci knew more than she ever wanted to know about galactic space. She learned that there were two types of aliens that she could potentially be hosting for her part of the world. Good old USA. The first were the Chezzarians, from four of the six galaxies: Frov, Porq, Svar, and Qar. The other two distant galaxies were Saldovia and Dalivaro.

  The Chezzarians were the most popular alien type in the AEP. These beings were everything you expected from an alien. They were the short, green guys with big triangle shaped heads and those large black oblong eyes. The Chezzarians were the aliens that they made movies about. Their race was very in touch with nature and the elements. Basically, they were a bunch of green, awkward, tree-hugging hippies.

  Just in case the thought of hosting a troll like a Chezzarian wasn’t appealing enough, they were also known for their stellar personalities. The AEP reviews Marci read on the Chezzarians were like reading horror stories. They were said to be gross little creatures with a horrible stench. The type of trash-like smell that didn’t wash out easy, more like the kind that made you replace all your belongings. The reviews also made the Chezzarians out to be rude little bastards, constantly asking questions like a toddler who repeatedly asks why, over and over again. One last review warned AEP hosts to hide all their booze, because all the previous warnings were child’s play when compared to a Chezzarian who had even an ounce of alcohol. And there was a good chance Marci was supposed to be mated to one of these little devils? Great.

  The other type of alien represented from only two of the six galaxies other than the one that contained Earth were the Humavrians. Humavrians were the absolute opposite of everything a Chezzarian embodied. The reviews Marci read described Humavrians as the ultimate human with expert hearing. The Humavrian one AEP member hosted was tall, muscular, and statuesque, with the most striking yellow eyes. Marci clicked on the picture of the being and made a gasp so loud she had to hide her computer screen from her on-looking coworkers. Sure, she had seen both types of aliens walking around the city, probably with others members of the AEP, but this planet was full of weird oddities.

  She had never stopped to take note of how beautiful the Humavrians were. Marci looked at the other pictures from the host reviews. Each Humavrian was just as gorgeous as the last and all with the same striking yellow eyes. All were tall, had bulging shiny looking muscles, and stood with a stoic military-like stance. After prying her eyes off the pictures, Marci felt the flushing in her cheeks. She felt the same flushing in other parts of her body too. She had to cross her legs to control herself. Marci had to take a minute to fan herself, as she could hardly believe just looking at these gorgeous aliens was causing her body to have such a reaction.

  Marci continued her research only to find out the Humavrians offered more than just good looks and bodies the gods would have envied. Their race was military driven. They were strong, both physically and emotionally. They carried themselves with the strict regimen that came from a galaxy that expected respect. The reviews noted the Humavrians were quiet beings, focused on their work of collecting intel from their human hosts. While there were plenty of Chezzarian reviews from previous hosts, there were significantly less on the Humavrians, probably because there were so many less in the AEP. Not a single review mentioned being matched via the Celestial Mates way. She sighed with disappointment.

  On the way home from work, Marci tried to make sense of the new information she had overwhelmed herself with. As she walked through the door, she knew one thing was sure. There was no way in hell she would be lucky enough to host a Humavrian, the being that instantly made her feel warm inside and instantly wet in between her legs. Just the thought of hosting one of those yellow eyed muscle men was enough to put her over the edge and make her need a cool shower.

  It was then she saw the envelope sitting on the floor outside her apartment. The envelope that determined her destiny. Would she really have the chance to go on the adventure of a lifetime or would she be stuck with a smelly littl
e nugget of nuisance? The anticipation was too much. She threw the envelope on the coffee table and opened up a new bottle of wine. She sunk into her familiar spot on her well broken in couch, drank, and stared at the envelope.

  As she dumped the last of the wine bottle into her glass, she finally did it. She opened the envelope and pulled out the packet. She skipped right over the pamphlets and introductory letters to get right to the good stuff; page five contained a photo of the being she would be hosting. Could it be possible she would be lucky enough? Was the picture lurking on page five that of the Humavrian of her dreams?

  And then she saw it. She squealed with excitement like a teenager, no doubt fueled by the wine. There he was, her very own Humavrian alien with piercing yellow eyes and the broadest shoulders she had ever seen. Marci melted into her familiar couch and couldn’t believe what a crazy turn she had just been dealt. “Thank you, Dr. Wilson,” Marci smugly muttered as she finished her glass of wine.

  Chapter 2

  Raelor

  By 5:45 in the morning, Raelor had practically put in a full day’s work. He had just finished up drills with a group of new cadets after waking up bright and early for his daily workout routine. Every morning, he woke up to go straight to the fitness center to pump some iron, then he would go off for a run around the Titan. The hallways around the ship were about five miles long and he ran around it every day. Some days, if he was feeling ambitious, he would run the route twice. This was his daily routine, and for Raelor, routine was key.

  Raelor was the son of the high commander of his planet Urdiv in the Saldovian Galaxy. But most of the other Trekkers didn’t know this about him. They just knew him as the expert pilot with great hearing. A gift of his people. But together with the position he was born into and his Humavrian ancestry, he was not only used to the military life but had also come to love the rules and strict routines. Raelor was the eldest in his family, and therefore the next high commander when his father would retire, though he wasn’t sure he was ready for the responsibility. He had come to enjoy the Titan and his Trekker brothers. Leaving them felt like it would be too difficult to do.