Sinth Savior – A Sci-Fi Alien Romance

Chapter One
Amy
Well, this is definitely not how I planned to spend my evening. I'm hanging out in my car somewhere on the outskirts of Yosemite National Park—because I'm a chicken. What's the matter with me?
Why can't I be better at facing things head-on?
When my waste of space boyfriend told me he'd managed to land a job earlier tonight, I was shocked. For real? He's only been looking for five… no, almost six months now.
Shifting the blanket that's way too short to cover my feet, I try to move my butt up so the bump in the middle of the backseat isn't right in my mid-back, but it seems to follow me. It's not comfortable, and neither am I. But I wouldn't be here if I could just address things like a grownup.
To say Brad and I had a little blowout is putting it mildly. Why is it that men always expect you to just up and relocate for them? Why is it that their careers are always first or more important?
Yeah, I don't have a "career" per se… but that doesn't mean that when he gets a job halfway across the country, I'm going to move. Come on!
The ringtone for Brad begins in my purse on the floorboard to my right, and it only takes a second for me to snatch it out and see the cute photo of us from when we visited the vineyard last summer. My friend Samantha took it for us when we double-dated the tour together. Smiling at each other lovingly, the snapshot portrays a couple head over heels in love, which is such a crock of shit and an unrealistic reality.
"Yes?" I try my damndest not to sound as tired as I feel. My job at the temp service often has fluctuating hours depending on the office I'm filling in at, and this week has been no different. For some reason, concrete companies think office hours are six-thirty to three.
"Where are you, Amy?" Brad's sigh of relief at me answering my phone turns sour as his anger ramps up—again. "Why're you doing this? You had to know there was a real possibility I'd have to move for work."
Did I? Oh yeah. Of course, I did.
I was actually kind of thankful for that and crossing my fingers that it'd be sooner rather than later. "Yes." My voice is a whisper as I'm mindful of the quiet forest I'm parked in. Most national parks have signs saying camping only in designated areas, and I'm definitely not in one of them.
"So, what's the problem?" I can hear Brad pouring himself another drink as he waits for me to answer. There's the telltale clink of ice before I hear him set down the large bottle of Crown he picked up earlier to "celebrate". It clatters against the table… or countertop… or nightstand…. Wherever it happens to be while his personal party continues.
"There's not really a problem…" My voice wavers as it drifts off. What the fuck is wrong with me? This is my chance to air it all. He can't find me right now, and he'll be gone within days. "It's just… I never agreed that I'd go wherever your employment took you. I'm not ready for that next step in our relationship--"
"Living together? We already live together, Amy." I hate how he repeats my name over and over when he's drunk… or mad at me… or, in this case, probably both...
Taking a deep breath, I let all the frustration at his controlling nature finally come out. "I know. And I thought I'd be okay with that--"
"Thought you'd be okay with that? Amy, really?" Brad roars through the phone, and I can envision the spit shooting out of his mouth.
This is exactly what I hate. It doesn't matter what "it" is. If it isn't Brad's way, it's wrong.
Listening to him continue to rant, I realized that even though he started out calm and appeared to honestly want to know what was going on in my head, he really didn't.
He may even think he wants to know, but from the nastiness he's spewing now, he's just drunk. Not even bothering to wait for him to finish, I cut in, stating, "Maybe I'll talk to you tomorrow," before hanging up.
Fuck me.
I'm the one with red hair. You'd think I'd be the hothead, but Brad takes the cake.
Before he calls me back, I dial my friend Jen, who's been waiting for this call for months. "Did you do it? Tell me you did it… Amy, you did it, right?"
Rolling my eyes, I don't let her presumptuousness put me out. She's right. She's always right.
"Yes, but what if I hadn't? And before you say it, let me just add on… you're right."
"Thank you." There's a long pause before she continues, during which time I roll to my side, trying to get more comfortable. "Are you okay, though?" Her sincere voice is quiet in my ear, and the stark difference between her and Brad's tone clarifies again I'm making the right decision by ending it with him.
Blinking, I consider her question. She's the one who told me three months ago she'd seen Brad out with another woman. I could have questioned him about it, but why?
By that time, I already knew things weren't the way I wanted them to be long-term.
And don't get me wrong, either. Jen said that they weren't just having a business dinner or something casual. There was kissing and groping, and it was very clear there was some kind of relationship going on.
Part of the problem is, I don't have anywhere to go but home with my father. Who wants to do that? Moving back in with my just-remarried parent and his new wife. Plus her kids.
No thanks.
"Yes, I'm okay. I'm more than okay… I'm relieved." Closing my eyes, I let my body relax and sink into the bench seat in the back of my old Dodge. This isn't that bad. I'll be able to sleep.
There's silence for a few more moments before Jen asks, "Where are you? I mean… it's kind of quiet."
Laughing softly, I have to agree. Living with Brad has been anything but quiet. He's a talker. And yeller. "I'm parked out in the woods at Yosemite. I'm going to crash here for the night, but I was hoping--"
"Of course! You should've come right over. I told you anytime." Her sincere reassurance helps my body relax even more. She really did mean it.
"I know, but I don't want to step on your toes—or Ken's." My voice goes up questioningly. This is the real crux of the issue. Her husband is super, but he's sick. Real sick.
Suffering from cancer, he's in his second round of chemo, and neither one of them needs my juvenile drama. Ken needs quiet and sleep, and certainly not me banging on the door in the middle of the night. They live about forty-five minutes away in Fresno, so when I left the house at almost midnight, I knew I wasn't going to want to drive all the way over there tonight.
"Oh, I have a temp job bright and early tomorrow morning. It's Friday and my last day. They wouldn't have been impressed if I didn't show."
"Ah. Okay. So, I'll see you after work tomorrow?" Jen's hopeful voice lets me know she could use me right now as much as I need her. I can't imagine what she's going through, watching the man that she loves and has pledged her life to suffer and get weaker every day.
"For sure. And it might be earlier than you'd expect." I yawn loudly as I explain. "I'll be done by three, so I can be there around four or so. Is that cool?"
"Yes. Actually, I can't wait." Jen's voice drops as she admits what I've suspected over the last six weeks. "I miss you. It's been… hard." Her voice breaks as she grinds out what I'm sure has been difficult to admit. It just makes me feel worse that I haven't been there for her. For support and to be the friend she needs right now.
"I'm sorry. I've been so sucked up in this bullshit with Brad--"
"No, no. I don't mean to make you feel bad--"
"But, it's true. And it's so silly. I don't know why I don't have the balls to just break up with him. I'm such a putz."
Jen's laughter is soft, and I know she's trying to keep it down and not wake up her sleeping husband. I should let her go. I'm sure she's up when he is, fixing him whatever it is he can tolerate to eat and keep down. Helping him get better.
"Listen, you go to bed, and I'll see you tomorrow. How about I bring us dinner?"
"Crazy Mike's?" Jen doesn't hide the excitement she feels at the prospect of our favorite fast-food chain. It's about fifteen miles outside of the city, so I'm sure she doesn't get out there very often.
"For sure!" I can hear her doing a happy dance on the other side of the phone as she squeals softly. "Let me let you go and just leave me a voicemail if you think of anything else you want me to bring, okay? This firm I'm working for is not flexible about personal calls."
"Sounds good. I will. And drive safe, okay? And Amy… I love you. I'm so proud you're leaving him."
Not bothering to correct her—because, I mean technically, he's leaving me. Instead, I murmur, "Love you, too." before pushing the end button for our call. I can explain it to her tomorrow. Jen's my best friend, and she'll forgive me.
Sitting up, I refold the sweater I'm using as a pillow as a strange glow out the front window catches my eye. It's blue and not a nice sky blue. No. This is a grating, neon teal color that's now flashing off the tops of the trees. I can't see what's making it because I'm not in the front seat, but I watch as the lights crawl slowly down the tree trunks and leaves in front of me, getting even lower.
Swiveling in the seat, I try to confirm that what I'm seeing isn't just a cop car or something with its flashing lights on behind me. Except for the same flashing reflection high above, I don't see anything that could be causing it. For some reason, I'm suddenly afraid.
What could it be?
A helicopter? Who'd be out here trying to set down a helicopter in a heavily forested area like this?
Crouching down in the back of the car, I try to flatten out on the floorboards to hide, but as soon as I do, the entire car floods with light. Bright light. Like daylight.
I can't see anything outside now, but no sooner does my tired, overactive imagination register that fact, than there's a big flash of green, my ears pop, and everything goes dark.

Chapter Two
Mavin
A high-pitched screech echoes against the canyon walls, pulling my attention from the squat buildings used for food trade storage. I watch a pulkay take down a mik. Both animals look evil with their milky eyes and drool covering their lower faces.
Turning away with disgust, I glance around at the waste around me. I can remember when this planet was beautiful—and healthy. It wasn't even that long ago. Maybe fifty of their annual rotations around their sun.
I was one of the original investigators of the contamination here on Teleplay. This planet has developed into a cautionary tale of what can go wrong—and just how quickly. All it took was a stupid Fakel to bring a Wen along for the ride while he was trolling new planets for gal.
Gal is valuable in almost every solar system due to its unique properties of conducting power, and discovering the mineral will make you rich. I can understand why it was tempting to take along a Wen since they have their own uncanny affinity to the ore. But if you do that—this dying world is what you end up with.
The Wen's bodies excrete a biological off-gas that bonds with other life forms. It doesn't kill them immediately. No, it changes them. Like the pulkay and mik. Two animals that should never be interested in each other.
Most species don't realize just how perfectly balanced many of these small, inhabited planets are. You can't just start shuffling in and out of them and not think you'll disrupt the balance in the ecosystem. When you do, you end up with the mess here.
"Mavin, report."
"I'm at food trade storage station three." I glance up again at the short building that's more of a temporary cage than anything else. During my entire shift, I've been ignoring the pull to this place. But I just can't any longer.
Once the planet was contaminated, there was no point in the Wen not being brought here to locate more gal. Of course, the asshole who originally contaminated the Teleplay knew what he was doing. He got off with just a fine—a fine I'm sure he was able to completely pay off after his first month's profit. That's not much of an incentive to never do it again.
"Three?" My partner and best friend, Trus, is as puzzled as I feel. I can't explain why I'm here. Something has drawn me, but I've never felt anything like it before.
"It's a hunch." That's the best I can do to explain why I'm here. I figure it can't hurt to look around. At this point, I can't even contemplate not going around the building to review the trade feed brought in. It's a constant cycle for the Wen species, who have an insatiable appetite.
The contaminate they transfer is a necessary evil for them to survive. Not only does it make them compatible to mate with each other, and it's a natural part of their metabolic cycle, but the off-gas we call the Wen virus also begins the process of breaking down the potential food sources around them so they can consume them. It's just an unfortunate side-effect that it's so potent. The virus almost always makes sentient beings exposed to it their prey.
"Check in after your review and swap out at nineteen perlay." Trus logs our agreed shift change time, always following the rules—as usual. I'm sure if he'd felt the pull I did, he would have managed to ignore it. Even now, I can't stop my feet from traveling to the building that's open on one side and enclosed on the other.
Already, I can see many familiar life forms on the contaminated end that are almost ready for transfer to the release side. Once the Wen virus really kicks in, it's best to release them to roam or they'll start to eat each other. Changing the victims to a sub-category form of the Wen themselves, they become slower and, by all intents and purposes, practically dead. They don't remember their former selves. At least, that's what I've been told by the scientists we have on Sinth.
When this planet was contaminated, we ran through all the possibilities to try to save it. The Wen themselves should never develop to a point where they'll have space travel so they won't get off-planet naturally. They just aren't that smart. More opportunistic. We never thought someone would be stupid enough to take one off their planet.
But you know what they say. Greed will make even the wisest man into an idiot. Not long before this occurred, the Wen planet received a lot of notoriety for the studies done on the creatures. Our scientists were trying to recreate the Wen homing capabilities into technology, and the story was picked up due to the escalating prices of gal across the solar system.
That's all it took.
Despite how clearly it was documented that the Wen virus is almost one hundred percent contagious, other alien species still took the chance of going to the planet Kaa where the Wen live. Hundreds died with more than one fool, killing their entire space crews when they climbed back on board. Another mess for the Sinth to clean up.
For whatever reason, we don't catch diseases. They are literally purged from our system every time we phase into our dimension. It's just the way we're made. As one of the few species who can do this, we have a biological advantage that most don't.
Circling the building, I'm exposed to all types of life forms, crying out in their own crude way. Due to the species translator implant all Sinth have in conjunction with their communicators, I'm able to understand the futile pleas. All basic and rudimentary, of course.
"Help," "sick," and "get out" are the most common. If a species is capable of more than that, they won't be here. The Coalition is clear on what level of comprehension constitutes the difference between being qualified as trade for food or the other end of the scale—captured as a slave, even if they're sold for food consumption.
Most of the animals here are almost past communication capabilities, but as I move deeper down the center aisle between the rows of cages, more coherent cries are translated. The virus hasn't eaten their brain to the point where pleas are impossible.
But that's not why I'm here. Something is pulling me to the back right of the building. Something strong that feels as if a long-awaited holiday has finally arrived. Without warning, my skin prickles in anticipation and my breathing accelerates. It's a fine line between excitement and fear as I reach the back corner pen and look in on the square view opening to the new arrivals.
I blink in horror as I see a species that looks eerily similar to the Sinth. Extremely close except for the coloring. This species appears to have beige skin, while ours is a pale grey.
They all appear much further along in exposure than you'd expect from their location in the building, but maybe that's because they shouldn't be here at all. Quickly, I access my communicator to flick through the closest humanoid species with similar characteristics.
My eyes are drawn to one of the species in captivity with fiery red hair and pale pink skin. It's female. That's easy to see, but I'm horrified too, noticing that the humanoid species' home planet is in the Ashen zone and under their protection.
This is bad.
Maybe that's why I've had this pull to come to review the arrivals in this building? Not that I've ever had that help me before. Actually the opposite, since one of my previous hunches landed my partner and me on this boring assignment.
Unfortunately, not much can be done for the poor species at this point. The three other males in the holding area with the female are clearly infected, and as I study her more closely, I see hints of grey in the shiny locks of her hair.
Just as I'm about to open up my communication to document what I've found, the red-haired creature opens her eyes. Looking up at me directly, she whispers, "Are you real?" Swallowing with difficulty, no doubt from the lack of proper hydration offered in these holding areas, she gasps out, "Are you an angel?"