Dante’s Command: Scifi Alien Abduction Romance (Science Fiction Alien Romance) (Survival Wars Book 1)
Authors: Hana Starr
Dante’s Command
By Hana Starr
Copyright
©
2016 by Hana Starr – All
rights reserved.
The author holds exclusive
rights to this work. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed, or transmitted in any form including photocopying, recording or
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publisher.
WARNING: This book contains
sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to
some readers. This book is intended for adults 18+ ONLY. Please ensure this
book is stored somewhere that cannot be accessed by underage readers.
This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are used in a
fictitious manner and not to be construed as real. Similarities to real
people, places or events are entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Thanks to Mariella Robertson’s invention, the whole of
planet Earth is about to change. The nuclear scientist has revolutionized solar
power, and shares her invention freely with the whole world. However, Earth
isn’t the only place she can help change.
In the middle of the night, an alien who calls himself Dante
abducts Mariella in the hopes of getting her invention back to his home. His
people are suffering, running out of time and resources because of a parasitic
race laying siege on them. Uncertain at first, Mariella quickly finds herself
drawn in by Dante and his predicament.
She agrees to help, knowing all the risks of this journey.
However, will she even be able to assist them? And will all her efforts be
wasted when the enemy attacks?
If a year ago someone told Mariella she would be standing up
on stage in front of the largest Progressive Science Seminar in the history of
the world, she would have called them crazy and suggested they get themselves
tested. However, now that it was a reality she felt like the crazy one. All
these people, a sea of heads stretching further back than she could see, their
attention narrowed down to two things: her, and the currently-blank screen
behind her. The lights were dim and growing dimmer all the time, mere seconds
until the Seminar began.
She was used to speaking in front of a crowd ever since her
first Speech class in 6
th
grade, and her experience in the past
twelve months had seen leaps and bounds in the audience attendance records,
shattering one after another, but this? It was unprecedented. It was almost
horrific in the sheer scale of brilliant minds, all of them probably dozens of
times her intelligence-level.
Yet, they were here for her and it was mind-boggling.
The nuclear scientist took a deep breath as the enormous
auditorium went fully dark. Closing her eyes, she touched the notecards tucked
away in the breast pocket of her lady’s tuxedo –cards she had never needed
through all her years, but which she believed firmly in preparing anyway- and
steeled herself.
I deserve this. I can do this. With this lecture today,
I change the world.
No, she never wanted to be a hero but this breakthrough was
already changing the world. These minds here today would ensure her prototype
continued to grow and shape the future.
As she opened her eyes again, the spotlight over her on the
stage came to life. The screen behind her whirred with inaudible static, and
then blazed to life with an image of herself that she knew very well. Seeing
as how it was the image most often associated with her, placed beside articles
and news clips about her despite its age, she couldn’t escape knowing all about
it: five years old at least, the image showed her in her crowded university
lab, smiling as she looked up at the photographer. Though it was hard to tell,
she leaned over a modified solar panel, currently dismantled and fitted with
extra odds-and-ends. It was her pet project, an area of research she funded
all on her own when her requests failed to be approved.
And now, it was the image of the century, a turning point in
world history.
A man sitting down in the front row gave her a thumbs-up.
She was ready. The microphone clipped to her collar went life.
“Thank you all so much for coming out here tonight,” she
said, speaking calmly and evenly. She fell into the rhythm she practiced for
over two decades, all her nervousness fading away into the moment. “It means a
lot to me, and to the world, that so many of you, of all ages, can be here for
this Fourteenth Annual Progressive Sciences Seminar. The fact that I’m here
now, as the one and only speaker, is something I never imagined would happen.”
Mariella gestured to the picture behind her, large enough
for the vast ocean of eyes to all glimpse. “But, as much of an honor as this
is, I know it’s not for me.” She chuckled a little, spurring light amusement
from some of the older attendants. “But, neither are we here just so I can
tell you about my project. We’re here because knowledge is valuable.
Knowledge is the
real
fuel of the universe. And if we can sit here
tonight with electrical lights and picture-screens, I can’t wait to see where
our future takes us –a future we can only obtain by working together and
sharing our knowledge.
“That’s why I have refused to patent the Zenith Grid. This
knowledge is for the world, and we’re going to make it that way.”
The picture behind her changed to what seemed to be a field
covered in solar panels, but these were different, somehow. They were sleek
and transparent, interlocked like fish scales or rose petals. Each panel was
angled to catch as much sun as consistently throughout the day was possible.
She gestured to it. “After 5 years of hard work and
dedication, this is the stage of the Zenith Grid which I will be sharing with
all of you tonight. I will show you how I built it, with what materials, and
what we can hope to accomplish with it. And furthermore, we will think about
where this takes our future.”
And just like that, it began. The technical process of how
she took a single panel and modified it so intensely that the panel powered its
own
power magnification, until the electrical output of that one panel
equaled that of five, was a crude and blundering thing she outlined with great
pleasure. Things grew more complicated from there. Cameras were clicking.
Video footage was running. Thousands of people were recording her, furiously
scribbling everything she said, or pouring over copies of the reports she made
while she spoke now of the exact material covered within.
Soon, the power of a single panel was actually too great.
It shattered itself. From there, she went through hundreds of designs and
redesigns to figure out that if she interlocked the panels so they shared
energy, the current result was a diffuse which drastically cut down on
breakage. Each solar panel could now produce nearly 100 times its original
output, and she saw the numbers only growing higher from there while hopefully
her normal, bulker design would be adjusted and compacted.
There were no end to the implications.
Eventually, he finished covering the process of building the
parts of the Zenith Grid –as of yet, the “Grid” part was still a concept at
best. She hoped within 20 years, a network of solar energy would replace the
current electrical grid. She had designs drawn up, though they weren’t perfect,
and she just
knew
that if all these people put their minds together…it
would be magical.
And where did one go from here?
The slideshow behind her, which had been playing through
images of her designs and the steps involved to build them, suddenly slid over
to an image of a newspaper headline.
“Zenith Goes Live Today!”
Her first real-world experiment, a months-long trip with
only herself, a reporter, and her supplies, as they set out to a broken and
poverty-ravaged African village. Setting up the Zenith changed their lives.
Homes could suddenly be warmed. Fuel to cook and boil safer water became
reachable at a moment’s notice. Indeed, the power from Zenith was enough to
actually build and sustain a network of water pipes.
In fact, it was too powerful to supply just the one
village. It had to be dispersed, involving the nearest
three
other
villages.
By the end of that experiment, an entire 100 square miles of
previously desolate desert land could almost be said to thrive. At the very
least, the children were no longer sick or thirsty.
And that was only the first.
There had been dozens more of experiments, slowly weaning
her own self away from electric companies and then supplying the neighborhood
around her. As word grew, she gladly spread her ideas with other groups, who
then took the Zenith’s blueprints home with them. All across the global, there
were beautiful, magical changes as the cost of living suddenly plummeted in
certain key areas. And as the cost went down, the quality of life went up.
Gradually, the media took notice.
And there was no turning back from there.
Mariella led her audience through the entire journey. She
missed nothing, left out no detail to describe how one woman’s stubbornness was
connecting and bettering life across the planet. Solar power was affordable,
simple, always available. And she asked of them, what would this mean for
war? For weaponry? For farming, for transportation?
It was a new age. An Age of Sunlight. And they could help
bring it.
And yes, she did not hesitate to lay out her main flaw:
that as of yet, the Zenith was so terribly efficient at drawing and harnessing
solar power that she couldn’t figure out a way to store any of that energy
without triggering a breakage of some kind. And she did not hide this truth,
because she knew they would find a solution.
As she wound down towards the end of her speech, the screen
once again displaying that iconic image of herself, she noticed her cheeks were
wet. Her voice shook. Shame crept up her spine.
I’m supposed to be a woman of mind, not emotion.
Yet, when she looked out across the audience, she saw hardly
a dry face and felt immensely better for it. These were her people. They
understood.
And just like that, she knew things would turn around for
Earth.
Swallowing hard, she thanked them again for their time,
though she was quieter and more hoarse than before after hours of speaking.
A member of the Science Board came up to thank her and
relieve her, and she took her seat for the remaining hour. The men on either
side of her congratulated her softly but then left her alone.
And she was glad for it, because now that she was in the
dark and away from illumination, she let five years’ worth of tears come
running down her face. Stress, pride, failure and success all mingled hotly on
her cheeks, flowing freely.
Fortunately, by the time the lights came on again, her
cheeks were mostly dry.
With everyone else in the auditorium, she stood and filed
out. The press of bodies and mingling bodily odors of sweat and perfume, along
with clashing voices in every language, pressed at her. It wasn’t quite
claustrophobia, but she was incredibly glad when they all reached the grand
party room. Heading away from the thickness, she mingled in with the thinner
waters and headed over to a catering table to grab a glass of punch.
It wasn’t quite a party so much as a reception, a
celebration, but she could already see some of her peers getting drunk.
Realizing the punch was spiked, she sipped lighter at it. Even if she wouldn’t
begrudge others their vices, it was no reason to indulge in them herself.
For yet another hour, she was perfect. Silently thanking
her religious schoolteachers for all those boring classes on manners and
etiquette, Mariella made sure she was gracious and humble, perfectly polite.
These were the moments she would be remembered for, and she knew better than to
temper her advances with small failures. So, when hands were offered, she
shook them.
Flirts were accepted daintily, not returned.
The six hugs forced upon her, she accepted them all.
Presents, she refused. Signatures, she refused.
Stay humble.
At long last, the Head of the Board finally found her. He
was a grizzled German man, with a thick accent and bushy eyebrows.
He offered her a glass of wine, which she accepted and used
to toast him. Letting the liquid touch her lips but not enter, as she’d
already had one full glass of that punch, she smiled as he spoke.
“You were very charming up there, Dr. Robertson.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice, sir,” she replied. Her smile
widened a bit. “I’m glad it’s over, though.”
To her delight, he cracked a slight wobbling at the corner
of his lips. “Yes, as am I. You are very not boring and pretty to look at,
but my old bones do not like to sit for so long.”
Mariella accepted the flirt without comment, though she
raised an eyebrow to let him know she caught it. “Really, I’m exhausted.”
“Yes,” he nodded agreeably. “I would say your day has been
quite full enough. If I do not see you again before you leave, I wish you all
the best.”
“And you, sir.”
Though not spoken exactly outright, the Head of the Board
had given her permission to leave whenever she wanted. As exhausted as she
said she was, she took the chance and slunk out the side doors of the enormous
building as soon as she had a chance.
The parking lot was overflowing, every inch of the way a
tight squeeze, but she was one of the only people of thousands leaving so
early. While slow, the drive in her rented little Jeep was uneventful.
Germany was quite a nice little place at night. Berlin
itself wasn’t so little, but at such a late hour she came across what was
probably considered only light traffic on her way back to the hotel.
At least they drive on the right side of the road,
she
thought. That was something she fretted over for ages, and was delighted to
find out her fears were unfounded.
Heading back up to her hotel room, she quickly got ready for
bed. Tomorrow in the evening there was another gathering for the sciences, one
which was more of a social fair than a lecture, and she hadn’t quite decided
whether she would go or not. It depended on how she felt in the morning, and
how quickly she could sleep off this nagging tiredness which came only when
she’d used up all her brain power.
Within five minutes of shutting the door behind her, she
collapsed into the bed and pulled the covers up over her pajamaed body.
Sleep was quick to come, but it wasn’t as deep as she
wanted. It was fitful and half-awake, filtered through a skein of stars.
Voices spoke, and she smelled something like burning before it faded away and
left her with the scent of clean linen. And in the midst of this tossing and
turning, she thought she dreamed of a dusky-skinned man with a handsome,
impassive face. And he was speaking, though she couldn’t hear him.
