Island Survival Prologue

Prologue

The airport was amazing! Well, at least it was to Nichole. Of course she had seen airports in movies or advertisements, but she had never been to an actual airport. She was never able to afford to visit an airport, to buy a ticket. It was hard enough to keep a decent paying job. Which she had just lost.
She couldn't keep living like this. Paycheck to paycheck, job to job. Her rent was high and the neighbors were loud. She always had to settle for the minimum wage job. For the long hours. For the asshole customers. From a cashier to a receptionist. From a receptionist to a fast food employee. From fast food to a gas station. None of these jobs were right. None of these jobs would work.
Her main problem wasn't her work ethic. She always tried her best to do things right, even when she hated the job. No, her problem was people. People were always to ignorant, or at least stuck up. They always looked down at her as if it was her fault that she was working a minimum wadge job. As if it was her fault she didn't have their food ready before they ordered it. As if it was her fault that prices went up. People were always looking for a scapegoat, and the “lazy” minimum wadge worker was the perfect scapegoat. But finally, Nichole would be that person no longer.
A week ago, that would be seven Earth days as Earth was the “best” place to live, her younger sister had called her. They had talked a little about the weather and the native races, of which there were two, the Sc'al and the Ra'kal, before they turned to the subject of work. Nichole broke the bad news to her sister, too which her sister began to laugh at. It turned out that Isabel had called Nichole because a job had recently opened up. The pay was good and the hours were fair. The only problem was that Nichole would have to leave her friends and home in the United States of Ra'kaln, the USR, and take up residence in Westerfield, Westerfield.
Then it was Nichole's turn to laugh. They both knew that the USR's economy, though it was the most successful commercial colony on Sc'al, was shit. The only reason the colony was so successful was because there was a massive gap between the wealthy upper class and the average middle class. Then there was the lower class where people like Nichole, along with synthetics, would do the work that nobody else wanted to. The middle class would work in offices and the upper class would watch their stocks grow from the comfort of their mansions, penthouses, and personal space stations.
As for friends, Nichole could've moved to the desolate Earth and still had contact with what few friends she actually had. So it wasn't long until Nichole was walking into the nearest airport with a suitcase and a ticket, which her sister had so graciously sent her.
And now she was staring with awe from the boarding lounge at the plane she was to board. Though maybe “plane” wasn't the best word. In reality the craft was a massive streamlined craft similar to the airliners of the early 21st century; however, instead of vast stretching wings this craft had two massive engines.
“Amazing isn't it,” came a voice from her left. She turned to she a Sc'al wearing an airport security uniform standing beside her. The Sc'al were a relatively interesting race and always intrigued her. On average they only stood around five feet tall, yet this stature didn't prevent them from taking up the majority of the USR's police force. What is probably most confusing about them is how closely they resemble the reptiles of Earth. Humans were astonished when they arrived on Sc'al to find that the dominant races were humanoid reptiles. Especially since humans deemed reptiles more primitive than mammals on Earth. What Nichole could never figure out is how the Sc'al or the Ra'kal wore pants and shoes. Both races had digitegrade legs, like those of a dog, cat, or T-Rex, and a tail. To her it seamed as if this would make it complicated for them to have any sort of clothing. But here one was, proof that it must not be as difficult as she thought it was for them to wear a full uniform.
“Yeah,” she responded. “This is my first time seeing one up close.”
“Ha,” the Sc'al exclaimed. “Your not going to freak out on me are you?”
“No. Why?”
“One time I had to deal with a woman that refused to ride on a plane that was piloted by a Synthetic. I tried to reassure her that Synths were perfectly safe and that they were the only pilots that could pilot the Sc'alen Ocean, but she wouldn't accept it. She claimed that she was going to stay right here in this lobby until we went and got a “living” pilot, a human pilot.”
“What happened?”
“We had to arrest her,” the Sc'al turned to look at Nichole. He looked her up and down and then dismissively looked back out the window. “Anyway, I hope you enjoy your first flight. What I wouldn't do to experience my first trip again.”
“Is it safe,” Nichole asked.
“Do you mean if it's safe to fly or to cross the ocean?
“To cross the ocean. I've heard that they've lost planes out there.”
“You know, I don't think I've got an answer to that. We Sc'al attempted to map our world years before you humans arrived, and it's still a feat that has yet to be accomplished. Anything could be hiding out there. Anything could happen out there.” He said it almost trance like. And then, blinking, he looked back at Nichole. “But I'm sure you've got nothing to worry about.”
Suddenly a voice broke through the noise of the lobby, “Flight 203 now boarding. All passengers please report to the boarding gate.”
It was time to board the plane...