Page 16 of Alien Mercenary’s Wife (Lathar Mercenaries: Warborne #7)

The corridor was quiet as she stepped out, with solid deck plates and no vibration. The Sprite was a good ship, just like T'Raal had said.

The smell of bacon hit her halfway to the galley. It was rich and smoky, with the sound of eggs frying underneath. Her stomach growled loud enough to embarrass her. She hadn't eaten anything real since yesterday morning. Protein bars didn't count.

She followed the smell through corridors that were starting to feel familiar. The galley door was open, and light spilled out, along with the sounds of cooking.

T'Raal stood with his back to her, working over multiple pans. The cooking area stretched along one wall, efficient and organized. Three tables were bolted to the opposite wall and could seat around twenty people. It felt intimate despite being designed for the whole crew.

"Morning," she said, not wanting to startle him.

He looked over his shoulder. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in months." She moved closer, drawn by the smells. "What's all this?"

"Full human breakfast." He gestured toward the pans. "Figured you might be hungry."

The spread was impressive. There was bacon in one pan, eggs in another. Sausages and grilled tomatoes, with beans warming in a smaller pot. Toast was waiting in a warmer.

"You know how to cook human food?"

"Eris taught me this one. Says it's traditional human comfort food." T'Raal flipped the bacon with practiced ease. "Tea or coffee?"

"Coffee. Strong, if you have it."

He nodded toward a machine that looked more sophisticated than anything she'd used in months. "Help yourself. Mugs are in the cabinet above."

She poured coffee into a ceramic mug. The brew was strong, with a rich flavor that made her close her eyes. It was real coffee, not the synthetic crap her pension budget allowed.

"This is excellent."

"Sparky insists on quality coffee. Says life's too short for bad stimulants." T'Raal arranged food on two plates with the same precision he'd shown during yesterday's firefight. "Though he usually adds enough sugar to kill a Vraxian."

"Where is everyone?" She settled onto one of the benches, testing her mobility. Moving felt natural instead of requiring careful planning.

"Ship's on night cycle for another hour. Most of the crew won't surface until then." He set a plate in front of her, loaded with enough food for three people. "Thought you might appreciate a quiet breakfast."

The consideration should have made her suspicious. When was the last time someone had done something nice without expecting payment? But the smell of real food killed her skepticism.

"Thank you." The words felt inadequate for everything he'd done. Not just for breakfast, but for everything. Yesterday's rescue, the medical care, and a safe place to sleep. "I know you didn't have to?—"

"Yes, I did." Same intensity as last night, cutting through her attempt at politeness. "Eat. You need the calories."

She took a bite of bacon and had to stop herself from groaning. It had a perfect crispy texture with just the right amount of salt. The eggs were just as good, with yolks still runny. Even the beans tasted better than anything she'd managed to afford in recent months.

"How's the leg?" T'Raal asked, settling across from her with his plate.

"Better. Much better." She flexed her foot under the table. "Whatever Tal did, it's working."

"Good. He knows his business."

They ate quietly for several minutes. The food settled warm in her stomach, chasing away the hollow ache of too many missed meals.

She watched T'Raal cut his sausage with the same controlled movements he used for everything else.

His dark hair had come loose during cooking, framing his face in a way that made her pulse quicken.

"Can I ask you something?" she said finally.

"Depends on the question."

"Why help me at all? You didn't know me. Eris asked, but you could have said no."

T'Raal set down his fork, fixing her with those blue-green eyes. "Because Eris asked. And because everyone deserves a chance to fight back."

"But I'm not your responsibility."

"You are now."

The simple statement hit harder than any grand declaration. No conditions, no negotiations. Just acceptance.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." He resumed eating like he hadn't just redefined her world. “Eris asked for help. That makes you family. Family looks out for each other."

She stared at her plate. Hope was dangerous territory, but this felt different. More solid.

"What happens now?"

"Now we figure out how to keep you alive while you finish what you started." T'Raal's tone was matter-of-fact, like discussing ship maintenance. "Eris mentioned you have evidence?"

"Boxes of it. Medical records, correspondence, financial documents." She took another bite. "Enough to prove the implants are defective and the company knew it. But every time we get close to court, something happens to witnesses."

"Accidents?"

"Car crashes, equipment failures, sudden illnesses." Bitterness crept in despite her efforts to stay neutral. "Always plausible, never provable."

T'Raal nodded grimly. "Professional killers. They know how to make it look accidental."

"You sound like you've dealt with this before."

"Different companies, same tactics. When you have enough money, problems disappear." He met her eyes across the table. "But they're about to discover that the Warborne don't disappear easily."

The quiet confidence in his voice sent warmth through her chest. Here was someone who'd looked at her situation—a broken veteran with a failing body and powerful enemies—and decided to help anyway.

"Why?" The word escaped before she could stop it. "Why risk your crew for someone you barely know?"

"Because it's the right thing to do." T'Raal leaned back slightly. "And because anyone who can put three rounds center mass while under heavy fire deserves a chance to finish what they started."

Heat rose in her cheeks. "You noticed that."

"I notice everything." His voice dropped slightly. "Especially when it involves someone fighting impossible odds."

The air between them shifted. Gold flecks in his eyes caught the light, and morning stubble shadowed his jaw. He sat perfectly still, but she could sense the controlled strength underneath.

The galley felt smaller suddenly, and heat pooled low in her stomach.

"I should..." She started to rise.

"Stay." The word stopped her. "Finish your breakfast. We've got time before the others wake up."

She settled back, hyperaware of every movement. The coffee tasted richer, the food more substantial. Her newly functional nervous system was rediscovering things that had nothing to do with medical treatment.

"This is good," she said, needing to fill the silence.

"Glad you approve." T'Raal's smile was slight but genuine. "Breakfast is important. Sets the tone for everything that follows."

Something in the way he said it made her focus on her plate instead, on finishing her breakfast. The quiet between them wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't simple either.

Too much had changed too fast, and she still didn't know what it meant.