Alien Orc for Christmas, page 1
Table of Contents
NOTICES
Alien Orc for Christmas
CHAPTER ONE | Maggie
CHAPTER TWO | Maggie
CHAPTER THREE | Archie
CHAPTER FOUR | Maggie
CHAPTER FIVE | Archie
CHAPTER SIX | Maggie
CHAPTER SEVEN | Maggie
CHAPTER EIGHT | Archie
CHAPTER NINE | Maggie
CHAPTER TEN | Maggie
CHAPTER ELEVEN | Archie
CHAPTER TWELVE | Maggie
CHAPTER THIRTEEN | Maggie
EPILOGUE | Archie
NOTICES
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, used, transmitted, or shared via any means without express authorization from the author, except for small passages and quotations used for review and marketing purposes.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and incidents in this novel are fictitious and not to be construed as reality or fact.
Alien Orc for Christmas Copyright © 2022 Veronica Doran
Alien Orc for Christmas
A Scifi Holiday Alien Romance
Ursa Dax
CHAPTER ONE
Maggie
“It’s perfect,” Sophie said.
“It’s kind of a mess,” I replied, laughing.
Sophie’s two-year-old, Theo, echoed the end of my sentence, shouting, “A mess! So messy!” as he careened around the mostly empty, dusty shop.
“Theo!” Sophie called to him. “Don’t eat that!”
Theo, the half-human, half-Chimera toddler narrowed his bright yellow eyes at his mother before finally dropping a chunk of what looked like plaster that had been retrieved from somewhere on the floor.
Sophie smirked, rolling her eyes at me, before jogging into the space to catch up with her let-me-get-my-claws-into-everything child. I watched them fondly, then let the field of my gaze widen, taking in the entire shop.
I hadn’t exaggerated. It was a mess. But that didn’t bother me one bit. Because it was mine. Already, my mind was churning with what it would look like soon. The cluttered floors would be cleaned until they shone. The counters would be polished, the walls painted with fresh, bright colours. Luckily, this place had been a confectionary store at some point before I took over the lease, so it already had the bones of what I needed – the counter space, the cash area, and the small but efficient commercial kitchen in the back. All I needed was to clean it up, put my own stamp on it, and turn it into the bakery I’d dreamed of running since I was a kid back in dreary New Toronto on Terratribe 1.
We’ve come a long way since then, I thought, shaking my head as Sophie once again told Theo not to eat something he’d found. Sophie and I had both lived in the human colony of Terratribe 1, in the manufacturing district of New Toronto. We’d been good friends throughout our lives – lives that now looked completely different from our old ones.
I turned, placing my hands on my hips as I faced outward from the shop, taking in the grand, glittering interior of Elora Station. Yup – this was certainly no New Toronto. Where New Toronto had been cold and snowy with clunky old tech and endless hours of labouring in the shuttle engine factory Sophie and I had both worked at, Elora Station was its opposite in nearly every way. Elora Station was a tourism hub – a human-run commerce station that worked on the Old-Earth calendar. It was busy year-round, but we were approaching its busiest season yet – the season that aligned with the Old-Earth winter holidays. All manner of human holidays made the station sparkle at this time of year – Yalda, Hanukkah, St Lucia Day, Dong Zhi, Omisaka. But the station had been founded by the United States faction of the Terratribe Alliance, which meant that one holiday in particular was what Elora Station was known for:
Christmas.
It was only early December, but Christmas was in full swing on the station. Above the chatter of smiling people whose arms were laden with sugary drinks and shopping bags, I could hear the jingling tune of Christmas carols playing. Shimmering Christmas trees stood every ten meters on this level. This level, like all the levels of the station, was huge and ring-shaped. The shops faced inward from the outer edge of the ring, and the very centre of the ring was a huge column of open air, zinging with spherical hover-vators that whisked shoppers from one circular level to the next. If you went to the centre of the ring, held onto the bars and looked up or down, you’d be greeted by the dizzying sight of all the levels stacked on top of each other, seemingly endless in their splendour.
I’d gotten lucky with my shop’s location – this level was busy, with lots of foot traffic, but not as hectic as some of the other levels. And, a bonus, it was the same floor that Sophie and X’s coffee shop, Hallowed be thy Bean, was on.
“You know you’re going to have to give me all your tips,” I said as Sophie dragged Theo back to my side. She hoisted him onto her hip. He may have only been two, but he’d certainly inherited his father’s stature. He looked about the size of a human five-year-old in Sophie’s soft arms.
“Of course I will!” Sophie replied cheerily. She and her husband X had bought Hallowed be thy Bean from its previous owner recently, and it was a relief to have a friend who already knew the ins and outs of running a business on Elora Station.
“Plus,” Sophie continued, shifting Theo to her other hip, “you know X is going to be here non-stop cleaning everything up and getting it all fixed for you.”
“Oh, no, it’s OK. I’m ready to get to work on all that stuff,” I said. This was going to be my bakery – I was more than ready to put some human elbow grease into the project. “I don’t want to burden you guys.”
“Stop! You’re my best friend. It’s not a burden. Literally. X loves to work. He cannot get enough. He was genetically modified to work non-stop. He’s been excited about this project for months!”
I couldn’t really imagine the brooding X being excited. I’d visited Sophie and X several times over the years on the station and could count the times I’d seen the guy smile on one hand (and those times were usually when he’d been looking at Sophie or Theo). It had taken me some time to get used to the fact that my dimpled, always-happy, sunshine-in-human-form friend had fallen in love with an ex-member of the Chimera guard. The Chimera Guard was the Galkor Empire’s army of genetically modified super-soldiers. They weren’t exactly known for showing their emotions, or even having emotions, to be honest. No, they were known for killing things, ruthless in their efficiency. But if anyone could crack a Chimera’s shielded heart, it would be Sophie.
As if our conversation had conjured him, X approached from the direction of Hallowed be thy Bean. Their coffee shop was tiny, and I couldn’t really see it from here. It was all the way across the ring of level 1200. But I knew where it was because the chocolaterie beside it had gigantic, eye-catching gold pillars outside its storefront, decorated with velvety crimson ribbons.
“Dada!”
Sophie let her wiggly toddler down, and he immediately took off running towards his gigantic father. I was worried about the crowds of people between them, but soon realized I didn’t need to be. The crowds parted way for X like Terratribe 2 goat butter sliced with a searing hot knife. People peeled away from him on all sides, his Chimera reputation forging a path before his hulking, seven-foot-tall body. He scooped Theo up and plopped him onto his broad shoulders before closing the remaining distance with precise, powerful strides.
It was oddly adorable to see him with Theo on his shoulders. The father and son were a lot alike in some ways – the same piercing yellow eyes, the same reptilian-looking tails and feet, the same dark claws. But Theo had also gotten some of his mother’s human softness, too. His face was basically human apart from the odd eye colour. His cheeks were rounded and dimpled like Sophie’s. Theo had horns, but his were tiny, blunted, baby-fawn versions of his father’s prominent black ones. Theo had Sophie’s glossy black hair, and had a toned-down version of X’s grey-ish green hide.
Honestly, Theo looked like a mashup of an Old-Earth cherub and a baby demon. In the cutest possible way.
“Have you been good for Maggie and your mother?” X rumbled upwards at their tot, stopping before us.
“Yeah!” Theo cried with the earnest enthusiasm only toddlers seemed to be able to manage.
Sophie laughed. “He tried to eat half the crap in this place,” she snorted.
X made a grumbly hmmphing sound that was a perfectly stereotypical grumpy-but-loving dad sound. I smiled, listening absentmindedly as X reminded Theo that Chimeras were meant to be disciplined and that they also weren’t meant to eat metal and plaster. Theo babbled happily back.
“We’d better get him back to our place for bedtime,” Sophie said.
I nodded, glancing at my personal data tablet.
“Yeah. It’s almost ten pm station time. Isn’t that a little late for a toddler’s bedtime?” I asked. I didn’t mean it in a judgmental way. I didn’t have much experience with human kids, let alone half-alien ones, so I wasn’t exactly sure what constituted a normal bedtime around here.
Sophie sighed and rolled her eyes. “He inherited his father’s lack of need for sleep. Combined with general toddler developmental stuff, his sleep schedule is insane. But, luckily, X does the overnight stuff since, unlike me, he can get by on just an hour or two of sleep.”
“This not only benefits my perfect wife, but you, too,” X said, focusing his bright yellow eyes on me. “I can be here late into the evenings, ready to work on the place. I’ll come back af
I held back my expression of amused shock at the image of this hulking, horned chimera reading bedtime stories.
“Thanks so much. I really appreciate it. But tonight, I think I’m going to just do some stuff on my own. Get acquainted with the place.”
Today had been a long day of getting settled on the station, and tonight was my first night here. I wanted some alone time with my new bakery, even if it wasn’t a bakery quite yet. I wanted the chance to revel in the quiet of the empty space. To breathe in the shimmer of the place’s potential.
“We’ll be at Hallowed tomorrow,” Sophie said, giving me a quick hug. “Come by the second you need anything. And, of course, coffee’s on us.”
I hugged her back tightly, glad to have a friend here. Starting a new business, a whole new life, in a new place was frankly terrifying. Having support made it slightly less so.
I watched the little family disappear beyond the crowds still milling about the station despite the late hour. Many businesses were open 24/7 around here, shop fronts and windows still lit up and glowing.
I definitely won’t be able to manage that, at least at first.
My carefully counted-out budget left no wiggle room for a paid employee. Nope, it was just going to be me working my Terratribe ass off. I’d be doing the baking in the early morning hours, then would be the customer service behind the counter during open hours.
It was going to be a hell of a lot of work.
And I couldn’t fucking wait.
A loud grumble from my stomach interrupted my thoughts.
I’d been so busy getting oriented in my new digs that evening that I’d completely forgotten about dinner.
Time to check out the neighbours.
CHAPTER TWO
Maggie
Facing outward from the bakery, the business to my right was a XrkXrk candle and lantern shop. The beetle people of XrkXrk lived in tunnels and cave systems on their home planet and were renowned for their exquisitely crafted lighting systems. The beetleman owner, Grakby, had been polite, if a little quiet, when I’d met him earlier today.
I hadn’t met my neighbours on the other side yet, but when my stomach rumbled insistently again, I realized I was about to. The shop to the left of my bakery was a pub, and a quick meal there sounded like just the ticket. I didn’t have the energy to cook or to go find somewhere else to eat right now, so the pub next door would be a perfect option for tonight. There was so much choice (and therefore competition) on Elora Station that every eatery was pretty much guaranteed to be good, otherwise, it wouldn’t survive. So I knew the meal would be decent.
I raised my personal data tablet and tapped it on the small lock screen built into the wall outside my bakery. Immediately, a shimmering forcefield rippled into existence, blocking off my store from the main station walkway. I nodded, satisfied that everything would remain secure while I was gone, then hustled over to the pub next door.
I stopped outside the pub, the late-night shoppers winding around me as I stared. I hadn’t had a good look at this place, yet. I hadn’t even gotten to visit my unit before I’d signed the lease agreement for my bakery. Units on Elora Station were snapped up too quickly for me to make the trek from Terratribe 1 to view it, so I’d signed the lease site unseen. The only thing I’d asked was about what kind of businesses were beside me so that I wasn’t leasing a bakery beside an already established competing sweets shop. So, I already knew about the XrkXrk lighting store on the one side and the pub on the other. But seeing the pub in person, up close for the first time, was a whole different story.
It was a whole different story and all I was seeing was the door.
There were no windows, no open space to allow glimpses into the pub from the outside. All you could see was a gigantic, ornate, perfectly circular door. It shone so pure and black I thought it was made of some kind of metal or smooth stone, only noticing upon closer inspection the subtle whorls that told me the door was actually made of dense, highly polished wood. Intricate images were carved into the door, rimming it like a wreath – little depictions of flowers and fearsome swords, berries and battleaxes. The unique combination of beautiful nature imagery and weaponry, combined with the unmistakable runic writing above the door, told me this had to be an orc-run pub. I wrinkled my nose in concentration, staring upward at the name of the establishment. Back at the shuttle factory in New Toronto, we’d had several suppliers sending us parts from Orc-Orok. I’d read enough supply lists and shipping notices in Orc-Orokish to have a rudimentary understanding of their alphabet and some vocabulary. I wasn’t sure what the name of the pub would translate to in Terratribe Standard, though. I spoke the name out loud, hoping my inner ear translator would be able to muddle through my terrible accent.
The translation echoed inside my head.
The Middle’s Guardian.
What the hell did that mean?
Either my accent truly was so bad that my translator couldn’t adequately translate the audio it had picked up, or it was a classic Orc-Orokish riddle. Orc-Orokish was a language known for its metaphors, imagery, and wordplay. Even advanced translators often failed to capture the actual meaning of Orc-Orokish phrases, instead translating the words literally, which is what I suspected had probably happened just now.
I’m too hungry to worry about this now. I’d never figure out the damn name of this place if I fainted in the middle of the station. Food first. Then riddles.
I grasped the golden doorknob at the right side of the circle door and tugged hard, assuming the huge door would be heavy and hard to budge. But it wasn’t, and I almost fell flat on my ass. Holding tight to the doorknob saved me. I regained my footing, breathing out harshly and tucking a kinky curl that had sprung loose from the bun on the top of my head back into its place.
I was almost immediately toppled again, though, by two different things.
The sounds.
And the smells.
I noticed the sounds first. Hearty guffaws, cheerful conversation, the clinking of glasses, and deep, resonating, yet somehow jovial music. The music reminded me of Old-Earth bagpipe music, but the sound was much deeper. It reverberated chaotically through the air, weaving a toe-tapping melody with its powerfully bellowed notes.
The music rumbled in my ribcage, making my breath catch. That’s when I smelled everything.
My mouth instantly began to water.
I recognized some of the fragrances. As this was a human-run station, with many of the tourists and customers being human, the first fragrances I detected were human in origin – garlic, butter, potatoes. Other scents were foreign, though. The scent of a type of charred meat I couldn’t quite place. Herbs that tracked bitter yet tantalizing ribbons through the air.
I stepped into the pub, letting the huge but light door close behind me. It did so soundlessly. Or maybe I just didn’t hear it over the jaunty din of the pub.
I felt a smile unfurling over my face as I took in the place. We had pubs in New Toronto, but not like this. They were usually grey, grungy little places you’d stop for a quick beer after pulling a 12-hour shift at the shuttle factory. The kind of place that provided only the cheapest alcohol, no atmosphere, and barely anything that passed for decent food.
I could already tell that The Middle’s Guardian was completely different from that.
The inside stretched outward and back from the door I’d come through – much larger than I’d anticipated. Two, no, three times the size of my unit. Probably even larger than that when you considered the kitchen at the back, which I assumed lay beyond the holoscreen door I could see.
To my right were tables and chairs clearly meant for orcs or other aliens of significant size. The tables stood high off the ground, and the red leather-looking armchairs had sturdy wide bases and tall, curving backs. I was already dying to sink into one of them, no matter how goofy I looked hauling my little human ass up there.
To the left were more tables, these ones set into the floor of the restaurant, with delightfully huge and squishy-looking pillows around them for sitting.
