SPACE BABIES

by Rena Marks

  SPACE

  BABIES

  Rena Marks

  Space Babies

  Rena Marks

  An antiquated ship, rotating through the galaxy of a deserted planet, bears immediate investigation.

  Helian Six boards the abandoned vessel to find the long-lost inhabitants in a state of stasis. But the systems are failing, and half a dozen have woken up. The planet below shows long dead bodies, poisoned by the scum of space, a species known as Gorgians.

  Strangely, the few who have awakened are much smaller than their planetary predecessors. And not very intelligent. Determined to believe the cute, tiny beings are not pets, the crew of Helian Six decides to train the small warriors to defend the planet. They become the laughingstock of patrol, however, after they commit and realize it will take twenty-two cycles to “rear” the inhabitants.

  So they do what any intelligent males would do. Kidnap teachers. And if the females can’t manage to avert their eyes from their buff physiques, well, score!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chasing Violet

  Abducted

  Stranded

  Taken

  Captive

  Stargazer Series

  The Hunter

  Kiss Me Before I Die

  Shared By Wolves

  About the Author

  Also by Rena Marks

  Chapter One

  “Incoming report. The planet has been deemed non-hospitable.”

  “Why not? It’s floating. It hasn’t been destroyed.” Tristan, captain of the Frejian starship hovering above the strange planet’s orbit, realized his question was automatic. It was what he’d asked hundreds of times before. Their primary function was to search the galaxies for liveable planets and clear the way for those so damaged by the Gorgians they were considered useless.

  The Gorgians. A worthless excuse for a species. Not even humanoid, and that was what made them so dangerous. Planets never suspected they infiltrated the darkened night to slither into homes and obliterate the space from the inside out.

  “A poisonous gas had been released…slowly. All inhabitants were aware of their impending deaths.”

  He grimaced. What a way to die. To know it was coming, and not have any way to avert the disaster.

  “How long has the planet been drenched in the gas?”

  “Three hundred years.”

  Three centuries? Would it be so damaged now they’d have to destroy it? Damn the Gorgians.

  He sighed. “Analyze the poison and let’s see if we can salvage it.”

  “Captain? There’s a space device floating up in the atmosphere.”

  “Scan it for life forms.”

  “Thirteen in stasis. Six are not.”

  “Why not?”

  There was a pause while more information was collected.

  “It appears all nineteen were in stasis until recently. The vessel is starting to lose energy and the inhabitants are waking. I would assume it carries a few of the inhabitants in hopes of repopulating the planet someday.”

  “Open hail.”

  “The vessel is three hundred years old. It does not have that capability.”

  Tristan sighed, long and drawn out. “Okay, send a crew to board it. This is a status two precaution. In the meantime, let’s see if the rest of us can clean up this dismal planet.”

  Several of the men stood, leaving the room to board a capsule for the exploration of the other vessel. The others spread out to carry out the rest of the orders. There were small clicks as various buttons on the control panels were pushed.

  “Planet scanned,” Bajoc said. “The air is neutralized and cleaned. We can use reverse osmosis for the water to rid it of any traces of the poison. The soil is being decontaminated as we speak.”

  “So it will be a liveable planet.”

  “Looks that way.”

  Tristan rubbed his chin. It was much easier that way. He hated destroying planets, but it was a necessary evil. One he’d been created for. His entire crew, as a matter of fact.

  They were from a planet more advanced than other life forms. On his, beings were created by growing cells in a laboratory and manipulating genes to give the perfect skills for the job the being was created to do. In his case, to police the universe.

  There were whispers and shudders that his crew was lacking somehow. They were too curious, exploring more than they policed. He’d taken a stricter turn with them lately, since the last debacle in which they freed gorgeous women. In return, the ladies taught his men pleasures of the bed.

  A bead of sweat dotted his brow just thinking about it. There was no way they could explain to the elders of their planet the sins of the flesh. That ancient need had been wiped out among their advanced civilization.

  But honestly, was that really a good thing? Sometimes, one should return to the old ways.

  “Incoming message from the rescue team.”

  “Transmit.”

  “Captain?” Over the loudspeaker, the voice of Chastien sounded confused. “This is unlike anything we’ve ever seen. The creatures are a smallish type of humanoid, but there is nothing in the databases that matches their description. They do not seem to be extremely intelligent, and have no social skills. They are more like pets. Ouch!”

  Tristan jumped to his feet. “Chastien? What is it? Have you been attacked?”

  “Yes,” his crew member groaned. “But it is all right. I am fine. That one had no teeth.”

  “No teeth?” Tristan asked, horrified. “They bite?”

  “Only the—ungh—smallest one.” A loud wailing drowned out Chastien’s voice.

  “What is that? What’s going on?”

  “I’m—I’m not sure. But the others that are awake are surrounding it. It seems to be some sort of calling ritual.”

  “Calling? What is it calling for?”

  “I don’t know! I think I need another team here. More of the creatures are beginning to revive.”

  Chapter Two

  “Forward…march.”

  “I gotta potty.”

  “Halt.” The voice of his commander sounded exasperated. “Someone get that one to the waste station again.”

  Tristan groaned. Several of the tiny warriors sat on the ground to…play.

  “Attention, men. And…women. Stand at attention.”

  Several of the tiny creatures stood up—and held still. For all of three seconds.

  “I’m booored now. Can we go play?”

  He ignored that one and looked down his nose at the tiny creature he knew instead. “Mark time, march!” he bellowed, loudly now.

  She made a small movement, not a march in place but a half-dance wiggle.

  “What is that?” he asked, exasperated.

  Bajoc, his commander, held a stiff face. He did not want to insult that one. Because that one was Tristan’s responsibility, and Bajoc would be smart to avoid insulting his leader. “That one cannot seem to get the concept of walking without going anywhere.”

  Tristan released a long, deep sigh. They called her that one frequently. “This is not working. How are we to train these creatures to protect themselves if they are unintelligent?”

  “I do not think they are necessarily unintelligent,” his first mate and commander said. “My research indicates they are perhaps a race that does not mature quickly? Hence their short stature.”

  “What? Explai
n yourself.”

  “There are certain races that take eighteen cycles to mature. Others take twenty-two. We are unsure of this one.”

  Twenty two cycles? Good Lord. They’d been alive for so many centuries, the concept of rearing someone for that long was foreign. Warriors from their planet were grown in laboratories, and emerged full grown. He had never been an inch smaller than he was today.

  “What have we taken on?” he murmured.

  “They’re cute,” Bajoc said, as he picked up the one he’d claimed.

  His warriors had grown soft. After decades of flying through the skies, repairing the damage that the dreaded Gorgians had dealt, they’d petitioned for some much needed time off. They’d each chosen an orphan from the lone, floating spaceship to adopt. However, when they discussed that plan, they had no idea how long this break would be. The possibility of twenty-two cycles? No wonder headquarters had snickered when they’d petitioned.

  “We need females,” Tristan said, suddenly slapping his thigh. “That’s what other species do.”

  “Up.” His own tiny female humanoid held out her chubby, purple arms. He sighed, doing as she requested, well aware of the wails she would let out otherwise. The loud shrieks would trigger the others. There was something wrong with his adoptee, she was half the size of some of the small creatures. The smallest there was. He’d wanted to balance out the power. It seemed fitting that the strongest warrior should have the weakest to care for. But he’d taken to tying thickened, padded short pants on his, because she couldn’t seem to understand basic needs. Or didn’t care. He hoped her intelligence wasn’t compromised by the three hundred years in stasis.

  “That is a great idea,” Chastien said. “A humanoid species would be warm and nurturing. Perhaps that one we’d come across a decade ago.”

  Tristan snorted, and his small creature mimicked the sound. A decade ago, that humanoid species had taught his men all the intricacies of the pleasures of the sack. Then, they’d decided to base their profession on selling those services.

  “I doubt they’d be willing to give up the money they earn for the meager salary we could pay them.” Plus, he didn’t want his sweet, little, simple humanoid learning about how to service men for a living. He wanted a strong offspring, one who could someday command her own vessel, much like he had. That was how they learned to think of the new planet’s inhabitants—as offspring.

  “It would be nice if we could petition for a master trainer. I believe most of these simply need basic training…not soldier training, but basic survival instincts. Ouch!” Bajoc stopped suddenly. His tiny humanoid—a male—tugged his ear, and then giggled.

  “Bad Reese,” Bajoc mumbled.

  It was that giggling that convinced his team the tiny humanoid species they’d discovered was helpless and needed training on how to defend their practically new, cleaned up planet. He had no idea how the smaller creatures were shot off into space in stasis. There were larger bodies on the planet, reduced to bones now, showing that the creatures used to be much larger than these leftovers. It made no sense that they would send their small ones into space. They had a much lesser chance of survival. No, the strong, large ones should have left instead. But perhaps there were other factors involved. Maybe a lack of nourishment on the stasis vessel for the larger bodies. Who knew?

  “Let’s go petition the council for master teachers. And, keep this under the radar.” They’d again be the laughingstock of headquarters if it would be found out they couldn’t train these simpletons.

  After commandeering the stasis vessel, they’d lived on their ship for a while. It took a bit of time to clean up the air on the planet. Then the plan was to erect dwellings for the small ones. It shouldn’t have taken long, since the buildings would only have to be four feet tall or so. The original planetary buildings were much taller, of course, but those were in shambles. Also, they were no longer needed since the larger inhabitants had perished. It was best to turn a laser loose on the surface of the planet, reducing the bones, ash and rubble to composted soil. They managed to clean the water sources at the same time.

  That was as far as they got. Without the stasis capsule functioning at full capacity, the rest of the planet’s humanoids had woken, wailing in confusion. His team had become the joke of headquarters when a hail was triggered by the creatures running every which way, and the noise and confusion had transmitted over an open line. They smoothed over the misunderstanding, landed on the surface of the planet and erected a small village for the purple peoples.

  There was worry that perhaps the humanoids were not quite normal. They seemed oddly emotional, crying when hungry instead of simply asking where the replicators were located. They tried to uphold the Universal language, but many of them couldn’t quite form words properly, choosing to grunt and whine. Still, each species was unique and who were they to judge this new one?

  At that point, they were forced to contact headquarters for help. It became apparent that these new peoples were not able to survive on their own. His men were ready to rebel from searching the skies, refusing to leave the small ones alone on the planet. They’d had a great many discussions.

  “Perhaps we were wrong,” Tristan said. “They could possibly be pets. That would account for the language barrier.”

  “They are not pets!” Chastien said. Just then, one of the creatures licked his boot. “Don’t do that. It’s dirty.” The humanoid gurgled and grabbed his tongue, flopping backward onto the ground.

  “Quick! I think he’s been poisoned.” All attention was on the struggling creature and no one noticed when the largest one of the new species made his way to the control panel and contacted headquarters. Again.

  “He’s not dying,” Aello said, relief apparent.

  “How can you tell?” Calian had said. “There’s so much drool covering your fingers.”

  The sound of a throat clearing made them all aware of the presence of the Supreme Commander.

  After a notable butt reaming, another ship of laughing males had been dispatched to quickly erect liveable buildings, while his team controlled the squalling planet inhabitants, since it was apparent they couldn’t do both. Had his own vessel also been so cocky once as to laugh at a fellow officer?

  It was even worse when the other team pointed out that perhaps these weren’t a mature species. That they would need to be reared into maturity. They had tossed around that idea, but rejected it. Now it made perfect sense.

  How could his team not have noticed that? With a stiff upper lip, Tristan said they would be the ones to rear them. He’d seen the relief on his crew’s faces. They longed for families, but that wasn’t plausible with their work. None of the females on their planet would ever agree to be enclosed on a space vessel for centuries, breathing recycled air and eating tasteless food. And truth was, none of his warriors would ever have another chance at a family life.

  “You’ll have to rear them without supplies,” Captain Serecone, his arch nemesis, said. “Headquarters has already doled out the last of the planetary start-up kits. The budget was small this year.” He said this with a grin that left Tristan with no doubt that he’d purposely given the last kit away prior to arriving here.

  Now his ship—the Helian Six—lay docked and they lived on the planet surface. Gardens were planted, and someday he’d hope to teach the small warriors to grow their own food.

  Perhaps twenty-two cycles from now.

  His small female had wet trailing down her leg. He held her out, away from squirting him this time.

  “She’s released her liquid waste center,” one of his men screamed. Pansy. Everyone else slowly backed away.

  “Let me know what the training council says,” he snarled, and walked stiffly toward his dwelling with his small offspring.

  “Titi, we talked about this,” he whispered under his breath. “You merely have to say the word potty, and I’ll understand to stop and take you.”

  “Potty!” she mimicked, and flailed her fat lit
tle legs.

  “Too late.”

  On the front porch, he shook her slightly to get any drips off her legs, and then pushed open the door with his boot. Inside the front door, he had a station set up for this purpose. He laid her down on the table, and now suddenly well-trained, she raised her own legs. They appeared fatter than usual, like sausages. He eased the striped coverings over them.

  Again, he cursed their stupidity. This should have been one of the clues that the small species was not done developing. Their clothing had grown tighter and shorter in the legs. No, nothing had ever dawned on him and his crew. Instead they simply traded clothing back and forth, trying to find some to fit others.

  His eye roved to a small shelf where he kept her clothing. Dronan had given him a small shirt that his offspring had recently outgrown. It was still too big, but none of the other planet inhabitants fit into it. Perhaps he could modify it somehow.

  He wiped off the small wiggling legs and her bottom, dumped her drenched stuffing into a pail of water to take to the sink and wash out. He’d learned from past experience that it would reek of death otherwise.

  He packed her with additional stuffing, tore the sleeves off the shirt and whipped it over her head. Then he set her carefully on her feet.

  She wobbled slightly, and then toddled off on those fat little sausages. The shirt fell to nearly her knees, covering her padded bottom perfectly. Success! And it would be much easier the next time she messed her pants.

  Especially when she released her solid waste system.

  He shuddered.

  His tiny female was rummaging through a drawer of snacks that he kept. She didn’t have a lot of teeth—another obvious sign that they’d missed indicating they were not fully developed humanoids—but she loved the dried up protein bars replicated on his ship. He’d cut them into long, slender pieces that fit her small fists better, and she gnawed on the end until it was gummed and softened enough to swallow.

  She was learning manners though, he acknowledged as she held out a grubby hand to offer him a bite. He smiled, shaking his head.