Page 14 of Alien Mercenary’s Wife (Lathar Mercenaries: Warborne #7)

T he shuttle's engines wound down with a mechanical sigh as they settled onto the Sprite's cargo bay deck. Through the viewports, Reese caught glimpses of the larger ship's interior. Clean metal walls, overhead lighting, and signs written in an alien language she couldn’t read.

The cargo ramp lowered with a hydraulic hiss, revealing the Warborne ship's bay. Everything looked military-precise without the sterile coldness of government installations. This was a working ship owned by people who took pride in their equipment.

Reese tested her weight on both legs as she stood. The left exo-servo sparked ominously, sending a jolt of electricity up her thigh. She bit back a curse and took a careful step toward the ramp.

"Medical bay's this way," T'Raal said, moving beside her with that fluid grace that made her feel clumsy. Especially at the moment.

"I can manage." The words came out more defensive than she'd intended, but accepting help from strangers, especially attractive alien strangers who made her pulse spike in entirely unprofessional ways, went against every survival instinct she'd developed.

The second step proved her wrong. The damaged servo seized completely, her leg buckling as pain exploded up her spine. She stumbled forward, a strangled cry escaping before she could bite it back.

"Draanthing stubborn females," T'Raal muttered as he swept her up before she could hit the deck plating.

"Put me down." The words came out breathier than she'd intended. The solid warmth of him surrounded her, the broad planes of his shoulders shifting under her arms as he adjusted his grip. "I can walk."

"No, you can't." His voice rumbled through his chest, vibrations she felt as much as heard. "And I'm not watching you fall on your face because you're too stubborn to accept help."

She should have been insulted. Should have been furious at the casual dismissal of her capabilities.

Instead, she found herself cataloging details she had no business noticing.

The way his arms held her steady without visible effort, the clean scent of weapon oil, and something purely masculine that made her want to breathe deeper.

Dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and this close, she could see gold flecks scattered through his blue-green eyes, which were currently fixed on the corridor ahead with determined focus.

"I've been walking just fine for months," she argued.

"That was before someone put a sniper round through your equipment." His grip tightened slightly as they moved through the ship's corridors. "Equipment you needed to stay mobile."

The reminder of her limitations stung more than it should have. "I don't need you to carry me like some damsel in distress."

That earned her a snort of amusement. "Lady, anyone with aim that accurate is nobody's damsel. You're injured. There's a difference."

Heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment crawled up her neck. When was the last time someone had complimented her marksmanship instead of focusing on her disability? "You noticed that?"

"I notice everything." His eyes flicked down to meet hers for a heartbeat. "Especially when it involves keeping my people alive."

His people. Like she belonged here, like she was part of something instead of just a problem to be solved. The unfamiliar warmth that spread through her chest had nothing to do with being carried and everything to do with the matter-of-fact acceptance in his voice.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, partly to distract herself from the way his thumb was unconsciously stroking against her ribs where he held her and partly because she wanted to know.

"Medical bay. My ship's medic needs to look at that leg, and probably run some scans on those implants." T'Raal navigated a corner with easy confidence. "Tal knows his business."

"Tal?"

"Ship's medic. Former imperial, knows more about alien physiology than most hall-trained doctors.

" He paused outside a door marked with medical symbols.

She arched an eyebrow. Apparently, some things were universal across the galaxy.

"He's also mated to a human, so he understands your species' particular brand of stubbornness well. "

The door slid open to reveal a compact medical bay that managed to look both high-tech and somehow welcoming at the same time. Clean surfaces, advanced equipment, but none of the cold sterility that made most medical facilities feel like processing centers for the dying.

T'Raal set her down carefully on one of the examination beds, his hands lingering a moment longer than strictly necessary. "Try not to be too difficult for him. Tal's one of the good ones."

She looked up at him. "Are you staying?"

Something flickered across his expression—surprise, maybe. "Do you want me to?"

"Someone should make sure your medic doesn't try anything I haven't agreed to," she said finally, the excuse feeling thin even as she voiced it.

T'Raal's smile was slight but genuine. "Copy that, Captain. I'll keep him honest."

As if summoned by their conversation, footsteps approached from the corridor beyond. Time to see if alien medical technology could accomplish what human doctors had declared impossible.

Time to see if hope was just another luxury she couldn't afford.

The medic who walked through the door looked nothing like she had expected an alien doctor to look.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a stubbled jaw that suggested he'd been working long hours.

Another Lathar, she realized, noting the same muscular build and height as T'Raal, though his bearing was different.

Where T'Raal carried himself like a weapon waiting to be deployed, this one moved carefully.

"Tal," T'Raal said by way of introduction. "This is Captain Reese Payne. The one Eris mentioned."

Tal's smile didn’t hide the way he assessed her, taking in the damage to her pants and the exo-leg beneath. "Captain.” His voice was deep with a pleasant burr and an unusual accent that was different from T’Raal’s. “I heard you've had some excitement today."

"Yeah, you could say that." She kept her voice neutral, even as every instinct she had screamed at her to get off this table and find the nearest exit. The medical bay smelled like antiseptic and ozone, clean in a way that reminded her of too many hospital appointments.

As she spoke with the doctor, she saw T'Raal settling against the wall near the door out of the corner of her eye.

"May I?" Tal gestured toward her damaged leg.

”Of course.” She nodded as he approached.

She held her breath, bracing herself against the usual pain of examination.

But Tal’s hands were steady and gentle as he examined the destroyed servo mechanism through the hole in her pants.

The exo-frame was twisted around her leg like a metallic cage under the fabric, and after a moment of careful assessment, he looked up at her.

"I'll need to remove the pants leg to get a proper look at this," he said, reaching for scissors off a nearby equipment table.

T'Raal growled low in his throat from the corner.

She shot him a look. "Be quiet if you want to stay."

He gave her a mulish look, and for a moment, she thought he was going to argue, but then he nodded, and his big frame relaxed. Relief washed through her, which was odd. What did she care if an alien she’d just met kicked off in medical?

Shaking the thought away, she watched as the doctor began cutting through the fabric of her pants, his movements careful and precise.

He peeled away the damaged material, revealing the mangled cage of the exo-leg and her skin beneath.

His touch was clinical, professional. A frown creased his brow as his fingers brushed against the neural interface connection points, his expression intent and focused.

"Sniper round?" he asked, reaching for another tool to cut the damaged servo away.

She gritted her teeth as he pulled it free from her skin, shards of pain shooting up her thigh.

He apologised softly as she winced, then looked down as the servo came apart in his hands, revealing the extent of the damage.

"High-velocity. Looks like it took out the primary servo and half the stabilization matrix." The destroyed components looked even worse under the medical bay's bright lighting, charred and melted beyond any hope of repair.

“You know your equipment.” Tal set the servo aside and pulled a scanner from the nearby equipment array. The device hummed to life.

“Yeah… had to do a lot of jury-rigging in the field with the early Scorperio models. Gave us a good grounding in this kind of shit. That was before Tank’s time,” she added, looking at T’Raal.

Tal nodded, frowning as he cut the rest of the exo-leg away and ran a scanner over her leg.

"These neural interfaces... They’re very expansive."

"Yeah, they’re specialised for a Scorperio unit." The words came out harder than she'd intended. "I was a tank commander."

Tal nodded. "I've treated plenty of soldiers before. Imperial military."

“Yeah? Those are the dickheads who took the Sentinel base, aren’t they?” She’d never understood why the government had agreed to an alliance with them, not after they’d been the aggressors. But who was she to argue? She was just a washed-up veteran, not the president.

Tal chuckled. “Yeah, dickheads are right. Why do you think I’m with this lot now?”

He activated another machine, its blue light washing over her leg in waves that she felt as much as saw. The sensation was warm, almost pleasant, like sunlight filtered through water. "I also treated Eris when she first came aboard. Similar implants, but her damage was nowhere near this extensive."

The warmth traveled up her leg, and she fought back the sigh of relief. The constant ache in her leg eased slightly for the first time in months. Behind the relief came hope. Perhaps these aliens really could help her…

No, that was dangerous territory. She’d hoped before, and it always went bad.

She focused on T'Raal instead, using him as an anchor against stupid emotions she had no business feeling.

He watched the examination intently, those unusual blue-green eyes tracking Tal's every movement.

The gold flecks she'd noticed earlier caught the medical bay's lighting, and she found herself noticing things about him.

The way he breathed so carefully, like he was controlling some internal response.

The slight tension in his shoulders suggested he was ready to move if she needed him to.

Why did that thought send heat curling through her stomach?

"Captain?" Tal's voice brought her back to the present. "The scans show significant nerve damage. How long have you been experiencing symptoms?"

"Six months. Maybe longer." She watched the readouts on his scanner, alien symbols that meant nothing to her. Everything here looked way more sophisticated than anything human medicine had to offer. "The doctors say it's psychological. Combat stress manifesting as physical symptoms."

Tal snorted, a sound so dismissive it made her smile. "Human doctors are idiots."

He moved the scanner higher, focusing on her spine, and the warmth followed. "This isn't psychological. Your neural pathways are deteriorating. The interfaces are breaking down and taking your nervous system with them."

She sucked in a breath. Hearing it out loud hit harder than she'd expected. And hearing it from an alien doctor somehow made it more real than years and months of human specialists dismissing her symptoms. Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the edge of the bed.

"Can you fix it?"

Tal was quiet for a long moment, studying the scanner readouts with a focus that made her stomach clench. She'd seen that expression before on the faces of doctors who were trying to figure out how to deliver bad news gently.

"I don't know yet," he said finally, and the honesty in his voice was somehow worse than a comfortable lie would have been. "The damage is extensive. Much worse than Eris’s."

He set the scanner aside to look at her, and the loss of its warming presence left her feeling cold. "I'll need to run more comprehensive tests, compare your condition to what I know about healthy human neural architecture."

The silence stretched. T'Raal watched her from the corner, ready to step in if needed. Having backup should have felt good.

It didn't. It scared the shit out of her. When was the last time she'd let herself lean on anyone?

"What I can do right now," Tal continued, reaching for a small injector that gleamed silver under the lights, "is give you something for the pain. And there's a neural stimulator that might help with basic nerve function while I figure out the rest."

She eyed the injector like it might bite her. "What kind of stimulator?"

"External device. Encourages nerve impulse transmission, might give you better mobility." No bullshit medical speak. She appreciated that. "It's temporary, but it should help until I figure out our other options."

He didn't have all the answers. That should have pissed her off. Instead, she was grateful he wasn't feeding her some line about miracle cures. She'd had enough doctors who promised the moon and delivered jack shit.

"The pain medication... what are the side effects?"

"Drowsiness, possibly some nausea. Nothing that should mess with normal function." Tal held up the injector. Her reflection stared back from its polished surface, distorted and strange. "It's designed for multi-species use. Won't screw with your existing physiology."

Better than the human alternatives that had either done nothing or left her feeling like her head was stuffed with cotton. "And the stimulator?"

"Attaches to your spine, sends targeted electrical impulses to encourage nerve response. You'll feel some tingling, but it shouldn't hurt."

She glanced at T'Raal. His expression gave nothing away, but his stance said he'd back whatever call she made.

When was the last time someone had given her a choice about her own medical care?

"Will it interfere with... anything else? Other treatments?"

"No. Both are temporary fixes while we work on the bigger picture." Tal met her eyes directly. "I want to be clear, Captain. This isn't a cure. It's pain management and basic function support while I research your condition."

Straight talk. No sugar-coating, no false promises. She'd forgotten what that felt like from a doctor.

She pushed herself straighter on the table. Her leg screamed in protest, pain shooting up her spine sharp enough to steal her breath. But she'd ignored worse.

Pain was familiar. Pain was honest.

Hope was dangerous.

But maybe she could handle a little less pain while they figured out what came next.

"Let's do it."