Desert World Savages: The Complete Series

Tracy Walsh is stuck in her job and longs for something more. She never knew that being abducted by aliens would be her opportunity to shine. After going to a bar with her best friend, Tracy finds herself on an alien spaceship, trapped with other women from around the galaxy. To escape, she needs the help of a hot man she met the night before.

Reven is an interstellar police officer who is trying to find out what happened to his brother. He's tracked his last location to a gang of slavers who are picking up women from primitive planets. When he meets Tracy, his priorities change. He has to find a way to help this beautiful woman get away her captors before they dispose of her.

As they learn to start trusting each other to survive the danger all around them, Tracy must find and rescue her friend. Reven must decide if he should act upon his forbidden feelings for an Earth girl, and what to do when he learns the truth about his sibling.

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TRACY

Dawn streaked rosy streaks against the gray and blue-black sky when Tracy Walsh reached the loading dock. A single glance on the loading platform on the dock confirmed what she had suspected. The carrier hadn't shown up again. The newspapers he was supposed to deliver sat untended, the edges of the strapped bundles curling up from a cool morning breeze.

Tracy sighed.

Carriers were independent contractors, not employees. They bought newspapers and kept all the profits. Yesterday, when the carrier refused to pay his bill, she told him to show up at the dock today with the money, or not show up at all. So he chose not to show up.

Tracy shook her head. She knew people tried to take advantage of her because she was a woman, but she didn't put up with it.

The man had just forfeited his bond money. Unlike other district managers, she didn't let her carriers go too long without paying the bill, and the newspaper wouldn't be out a single cent. Unfortunately, she would be busy doing the boring tasks of delivering the papers, changing the locks on vending boxes, and finding a new carrier for the route.

She had a cup of coffee in one hand, her briefcase tucked under her arm, and a freshly dry-cleaned suit as she climbed the stairs. The balancing act was precarious but under control until the loading dock door flew open and hit her outstretched hand. Her coffee cup went flying through the air and lukewarm liquid splashed onto her, dripping down her shirt.

"God damn," she swore, "don't you know—" then she looked up from the mess to see the over-groomed hair cut of Bob Hamilton, amusement crinkling around his eyes.

"Sorry, " said Bob with a smirk. "I was coming out to see if you showed up. One of your carriers hasn't shown."

Tracy chucked her now empty coffee cup into the garbage can at the steel door entrance and seeing Bob still standing there door glared at him. He was her colleague, not her boss, and he had no business "checking up" on her.

"I 'show up' at the same time each day, Bob. Just as I've done for the past four years. And I can see that a carrier hasn't shown and I know why."

"In case you didn't know, these papers need to be delivered by the deadline." He spoke slowly as if he didn't believe her.

"Gee," she said dryly. "I didn't know. Thanks for telling me."

"You don't have to be sarcastic," he said. Hamilton stood in front of her, blocking the door, looking her up and down, his eyes settling on her breasts.

"You know," he said, his voice low, "I've got a remedy for that crankiness of yours."

She leveled her gaze to meet him eye-to-eye. "I hope that remedy works for your wife because living with you, I can see why she'd be cranky. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

Tracy pushed past Hamilton, and walked quickly up through the hall to the transportation counter. Eddie, the transportation night supervisor, leaned back in his chair, his potbelly poking up between his suspenders. His gray beard hung down to his chest and surrounded his gaped-toothed smile.

"Hiya, kiddo. Whoah, looks like you had a run-in with a latte."

She looked down at her coffee-stained shirt and sighed.

"Yeah."

"What's the suit for?"

"I'm applying today for the Zone Manager position that just opened up."

"Yeah? Well good luck, girl."

"Thanks. I'll need the master key for the Downtown route, a set of forty locks, and a car."

"Another one bites the dust, eh?"

"No one wants to work anymore," she said.

"I can help you with the master key and the locks, but Hamilton took the last company car."

"What? Why?"

Eddie shrugged. "He said he was doing a market tour."

Tracy shook her head. The idiot knew she had a route to deliver and decided to do a market tour that was useless at this time of day. There was only one
reason for that. "More like he's hiding his extracurricular activities from his wife by using a company car."

"Now, Tracy," chided Eddie. "There's no proof of that."

"All his market tours say the same thing."

"What's that?"

"All racks serviced."

Eddie looked at her quizzically, broke out into a big smile, and then started laughing.

"Yes," he said. "I suppose they are."

REVEN

Reven stood in a line of a motley crew of men and beasts. His shoulder was sore and he adjusted the weight of the duffle bag hanging from it, waiting for his turn to talk to the captain of the merchant ship. He was pissed, and the heat and dust of this forsaken backwater planet did not improve his mood.

Another thing that ticked him off was the insects-crawling-on-skin feeling generated from his holo disguise. He hoped that adopting the appearance of the Captain's species would increase his chances of getting a berth on this ship. In addition, it was a standard operating procedure from his previous line of work.

It seemed like a representative of every creature type from the Aligned Worlds was shuffling along in the queue with him. He saw things with wings, multiple arms, and appendages with functions he could only guess at.

I can't believe these are all sentient beings, he thought to himself. But how sentient did you have to be to work as crew on a space ship? Not very. You only need strong arms, strong backs, and the ability to follow orders. Even though he had recently defected, he was pretty good at following orders.

Looking around, he noticed that the spaceport was so small it only had a landing area and a few buildings that housed maintenance and storage. Beads of sweat form on Reven's brow as he waited to face the captain, and his stomach tightened. He needed to get on that ship NOW.

Hurry, he silently urged. The longer he stood out in the open, the more he risked exposure. Even now, he felt his disguise spit and crackle from the interaction of his sweat with the device. Every strange looking creature pleading their case with the captain increased the possibly of it failing.

His enhanced hearing allowed him to keep track of the vetting of the hopefuls. Most were turned away.

Finally, he stood before the captain, who took Reven's forged papers without even glancing at his face. Reven stood silently, sweat dripping down his back, but the captain acted like he didn't notice.

"A Deneb?" the captain said with some surprise. He was a foul looking man, thin and short. His nose was broken and unset to the usual straight line. Not a single genetic enhancement marked his features, unlike Rev who was graced with everyone possible. "How did you land on this shit hole?"

"Bad luck," said Reven.

The captain shrugged. "We make our own luck on this ship. You look like you'll do. From your papers, you know the rules. No drinking or substance use while in flight. This isn't a pleasure cruise. You'll bunk with the crew in the common quarters, and you need your own amenities. There is no ship's store on this boat, so make sure you have soap if you want it. There's me, the second and third mate to report to and no one else. Their names are Bris and Cax. If anyone else says they're the boss, they're lying. Avoid the restricted areas on the ship. They are marked in red. You can see colors, can't you?"

"Of course," said Reven.

"Good. Some of these fellows wouldn't know the colors of their own mother's eyes. Anyway, if you're found in one of them we'll space you immediately. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

The captain cocked an eyebrow at him. "'Yes, sir?' I like the sound of that, but on this ship I'm Jaal, got it?"

Reven almost shook his head, but caught himself in time. The lack of formality was a sign of the man's incompetence at running a ship.

"Yes, Jaal."

"Good. We leave in an hour. Be ready to board then."

"I'm ready now," Reven said.

"Can't wait to leave this pit, eh? I don't blame you." He pointed to a man that stepped forward from the shadows under the ship "Bris will settle you in." Jaal handed Reven's papers to Bris, then made a waving off motion to the rest of the men standing in line. "The rest of you shove off. Crew's filled!"

Amid the sighs and grumbles of the turned away men, Bris walked briskly away towards the nose of the ship. He walked with a slight bounce, a sign that his body found the gravity of this world too weak. Reven took note of this and the considerable development of the man's muscles. He gauged the man's strength, and the quickness of reflexes. Reven thought he could take Bris in a fight because his enhancements making him stronger than he looked. His training taught him to hide his strength until it was needed, so he shuffled along the length of the boat, clutching his duffel.

"Come on, then," said Bris looking over his shoulder. "I'm the first mate, Cax, is second." Bris then repeated word-for-word the captain's spiel, putting special emphasis on the restricted sections. Rev nodded his head. "You don't have to tell me twice," said Rev.

Bris stopped short, and turned, his eyes boring into Rev's.

"This is serious. Why do you think that we're looking for crew here in this backwater planet? It's because some idiot decided to poke his nose where it didn't belong."

Reven knew. That was why he was here in the first place, against orders. He smiled his most obedient smile.

"Don't worry, Bris. I'm here to work. I'll follow the rules."

Every word that Reven spoke was a lie. He couldn't wait until he got into the restricted section.

TRACY

Tracy sunk into her sofa, clutching her phone. Her head was spinning with everything that had happened during the last two brutal weeks at work.

Besides finding a new carrier for the route that went down, Hamilton upped the competition for the Zone Manager job by claiming to do market tours every day. She found herself doing the same thing, cleaning off graffiti off the vending boxes, putting in rack cards, and making sure the boxes had at least one paper showing in the window. This was on top of doing collections from carriers, attending department meetings, and filling out paper work.

The last straw was the Circulation Director calling for a document update of all carrier contracts. She had to chase carriers to produce new copies of all their documents: insurance cards, driver's license and social security cards. Since most carriers had day jobs, she had to spend extra hours on the docks to catch them, and it took forever. Despite all her hard work, she was disappointed when Bob Hamilton snagged the promotion she deserved.

"Come on, Tracy," pleaded her friend Carol over the phone. "All you do is work. It will be fun."

"You know I have to get up early," said Tracy.

"Just two drinks."

Tracy snorted.

"Then one drink. Please. I don't want to go there alone."

"I'll do it, for you, but it is ginger ale for me. You know I have drive in the morning."

"That's a stupid job you have. You work all the time, you can't have any fun, and they don't appreciate you."

Carol was right on all points.

"Well, pick me up, girlfriend, and we'll light up the night."

"No, you pick me up. If I get lucky, I won't be driving home."

Tracy rolled her eyes. Carol didn't even realize she was assuming Tracy wouldn't get lucky.

"Fine. What time?"

"Nine."

"See you then."

She had half a mind to get drunk and call in sick the next morning. It wasn't as if she didn't have the sick time. She never took any. The more she thought about it, the better it sounded.

Before she knew it, she dialed the number for the Single Copy Manager, Richard Dawes. She'd be damned if she called Hamilton. Fortunately, it went to voicemail.

She coughed into the phone. "Hey, Richard," she said feigning a gravelly voice. "I'm sorry, but I can't make it in tonight. I've got a fever of one hundred and one, and oh God, gotta go!" She made a retching noise as she clicked off the phone.