Page 29 of Alien Mercenary’s Wife (Lathar Mercenaries: Warborne #7)

T he galley was empty and quiet except for the soft hum of the coffee maker and the distant sounds of ship operations. Reese poured herself a mug of the strong brew T'Raal's crew favored, noting how her left hand barely trembled as she lifted it.

"Captain Payne to the communications room," A deep voice rumbled through the ship's intercom. Skinny, she thought, although she wasn't sure. She hadn't been aboard long enough to recognise all the crew by their voices yet. "You have an incoming message."

"Thank you," she answered, looking up to the corner of the room where she thought the voice had come from. "I'll head down there now."

Mug in hand, she made her way through the corridors to the communications room. There was no one in there, so she settled in the chair, a frown on her face as she glanced at the console. Okay, she was going to have to call Eris to help her figure this out.

Before she could stand up again, though, the display flickered to life as the encrypted connection was established. Hughes appeared, and he looked like hell. His hands trembled as he adjusted his screen.

"Captain," he said, relief in his voice. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm good, thanks." She kept her voice level, though seeing his deterioration hit harder than she'd expected. "How about you?"

"Same shit, different day. Some mornings I can't feel my left side at all." He managed a weak smile. "But I'm still here to cause trouble for the corporate bastards, so there's that."

Mason appeared on a second screen, looking pissed as usual. The scar cutting across her left cheek stood out starkly against her pale skin.

"Captain," she said by way of greeting. "We've got problems."

"When don't we?" Reese took a sip of coffee, bracing herself for whatever fresh hell she was about to hear. "What kind of problems?"

Mason leaned forward, her expression grim. "The fuckers aren't just attacking us anymore… they're going after our fucking credibility."

Reese frowned, sitting up straighter. "Meaning?"

"The batch numbers," Hughes said, with a sigh of defeat.

Ice formed in Reese's stomach. "What about them?"

"They're gone," Mason said flatly. "Disappeared from the military records overnight. No trace they ever existed."

For a moment, Reese's brain froze. Their whole case was screwed without those numbers.

"How is that possible?"

"We must've rattled the cage of someone with very high clearance," Mason replied, bite in her voice. "The kind of someone who can rewrite military procurement records without leaving fingerprints. I… don't even know what level of security clearance that would need."

Hughes rubbed his face with trembling hands. "It gets worse, Captain. They're not just denying the batch numbers existed… they're claiming we never received military implants at all."

"What?"

"According to the revised records," Mason continued, pulling up documents and sharing them on the screen, "our neural interface units were black market purchases made by individual soldiers who wanted 'performance enhancements beyond standard military issue'."

"What the fuck?"

Reese stared at the documents. "So they're saying we bought defective implants illegally?"

Mason nodded. "That's about the size of it, captain."

Reese shook her head, trying to wrap her head around it. "So… So how the fuck were we supposed to operate our suits, if they didn't give us implants? Scorperios require a direct interface with the pilot's nervous system. Everyone knows that."

Not only did everyone know that, but it was the main selling point of the Scoperio program when it launched.

With a direct interface to the suit, training time was significantly reduced.

It meant that they could field Scorperio units at the rate it took a soldier to heal from the surgery…

far less time than it took to train a pilot to use the tank units before.

"Exactly." Mason's smile held nothing to do with amusement.

"But… No military procurement means no government liability.

No Nexus Dynamics contract means no corporate responsibility.

As far as they're concerned, as far as the courts are concerned, we're just a bunch of veterans who made bad decisions and are now trying to game the system for compensation. "

" Fucking hell ." Reese almost dropped her coffee cup on the desk by the console. "How many people bought this bullshit?"

"Enough," Hughes said, almost hunched in on himself. "The judge reviewing our motion accepted their argument. Apparently, it's not unheard of for soldiers to seek unofficial enhancement technology."

"Unofficial enhancement technology," Reese repeated the words with disgust. "Fuck's sake. Is that what they're calling it?"

"It gets better," Mason growled. "They've produced documentation showing that several veterans in similar lawsuits had previously been disciplined for unauthorized equipment modifications.

Makes it look like we're part of a pattern of soldiers who ignored regulations and are now facing the consequences. "

Reese closed her eyes for a moment. Shit . It was a perfect setup job. Turned them from victims into criminals.

"How many of those disciplinary actions are real?" she asked, sitting up.

"No idea." Mason's expression hardened. "But I'd assume they're about as genuine as our black market procurement records."

"So what's our next move?"

Hughes shifted uncomfortably on screen. "That's where things get complicated, Captain. Our lawyers are reconsidering their involvement."

"Reconsidering how ?"

"They've dropped us," Mason said bluntly. "Cited concerns about representing clients who may have engaged in illegal procurement activities. Apparently, their reputation couldn't survive being associated with our case."

And there went their last hope. They had no lawyers, no evidence… nothing.

"Fuck." The word escaped before Reese could stop it.

"My thoughts exactly," Mason agreed. "Though I've been using considerably more colorful language since I got off the call with our former legal representation."

"There's more," Hughes said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Williams is missing."

The bottom dropped out of Reese's world. Williams had been one of their most vocal members, a former sergeant with a gift for organizing resistance and a stubborn refusal to accept defeat. If they'd gotten to him...

"Missing how?" Her voice came out steadier than she felt.

"Didn't show up for our scheduled check-in three days ago," Mason replied. "His apartment's been cleaned out. Neighbors say they saw moving trucks, but Williams never mentioned relocating."

"Could he have cut and run?"

"Williams?" Mason's laugh was bitter. "The man who once spent six hours in a firefight with a broken leg because he refused to abandon his post? Not a chance in hell."

The communications room door slid open with a soft hiss, and Red stepped inside. T'Raal's daughter moved with fluid grace, settling into the chair just outside the camera's field of view.

Reese acknowledged her presence with a small nod and mouthed, "Won't be long."

Red made her feel painfully human just by being in the room. Those rippling scales under her skin were a reminder that Reese was just a broken soldier while Red was something else entirely—strong, alien, and definitely not dying from faulty tech.

"We'll figure something out," Reese said finally, though the words felt hollow. "We always do."

"Copy that, Captain," Hughes said. "Stay safe out there."

"You too. Both of you. Keep your heads down and watch your backs."

"Always do," Mason replied. "Talk soon."

"Soon," Reese agreed, though she wondered if either of them would live long enough to make good on that promise.

Red cleared her throat softly, drawing Reese's attention away from the dark screens. The sound was deliberate, careful, like someone trying to signal their presence without being too intrusive.

"So... how are you settling in? On the ship, I mean."

The question came out stiff, formal. Like someone reading from a script they weren't entirely comfortable with. Red's posture was too straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap like she was at a job interview.

"Fine," Reese replied, studying the younger woman's face. Red was utterly beautiful, with high cheekbones and sculpted features Reese would have died for. "Everyone's been very welcoming."

"Good. That's... good." Red shifted in her chair, scales rippling beneath her skin. "Everyone can be a bit overwhelming at first. Especially Sparky. But they mean well."

"The ship's not what I expected," Reese said, offering a neutral response while she tried to figure out what Red was really after. "Smaller than the military vessels I'm used to, but better maintained."

"T'Raal insists on proper maintenance. Says a ship that can't run when you need it to is just an expensive coffin.

" Red smiled when she mentioned her father, the careful formality slipping for just a moment.

Then she caught herself, returning to that stilted politeness. "And Tal? Is his treatment helping?"

"Yes. Much better than anything I've had before." Reese shifted in her chair, feeling the adhesive sticker pull against the skin of her back. "I can walk without worrying I'm going to hit the deck now."

"That's wonderful. Really." Red's smile didn't quite reach her unusual eyes. "Being in space, it's okay for you? No side effects or complications?"

Reese leaned back in her chair, amusement replacing confusion. The other woman was clearly working through some mental checklist. Now it made sense. Red wasn't here for casual chitchat. She had an agenda.

"Why don't you just come out with whatever you really want to know?"

Red's shoulders sagged, as scales flared over her cheeks. "That bad, huh?"

Reese bit back her smile and nodded. "Pretty obvious, yeah. Though I appreciate the effort."