Page 33 of Alien Mercenary’s Wife (Lathar Mercenaries: Warborne #7)

T he medical bay felt like a sardine can with four people crammed inside.

Reese sat on the examination table while Tal operated the scanner, its quiet hum lost beneath the conversations around her.

Eric stood at the secondary console, expression locked on the readouts scrolling past. Lina worked the corner station, fingers flying across the data interface.

"Neural pathway support is proceeding better than expected," Tal said, manipulating the holographic display. "The stimulator's encouraging natural repair."

"The enhancement is remarkable," Eric added, an odd extra rattle to his deep voice. "This cellular regeneration shouldn't be possible with human physiology. Krynassis, yes… but not human."

Lina snorted from the corner. "Yeah, yeah, Eric… we get it. You think Krynassis DNA is better than everything out there."

He looked at the other scientist over the top of his glasses, one eyebrow quirked up. "Well, of course it issss. Why do you think I spliced it into my DNA?"

"More likely you spliced it in so Zad would notice you," Lina threw back, their banter that of old colleagues.

Reese tuned it out as she watched the medical data scroll past. It was all just alien symbols to her. But the improvement was noticeable. There were more green areas where there had been red, connected lines where there were gaps before. Even a grunt like her could read things like that.

"Still…" Tal's voice tightened. "We're treating symptoms, not the root cause. The Imperial treatment protocols I've studied could?—"

"No." Reese cut him off, making all three scientists look up. "We've discussed this. I'm not interested in Imperial intervention."

"But the cellular reconstruction techniques—" Tal began.

"Are off the table." She kept her voice level despite her irritation. "I'm sure you three can figure this out without the Empire."

Tal looked doubtful, but he returned to his scans without arguing. Eric and Lina exchanged a glance.

"What is it?" Reese demanded, looking between the pair of them.

"Actually," Eric paused, pursing his lips as he considered his words, "there might be an alternative."

"What kind of alternative?" she asked, not sure she wanted to hear another complex explanation about genetic mods and experimental procedures.

"Zero's brother," Eric replied, folding his arms over his broad chest. "Jex. He's an expert in the tech that Scorperio units were based on."

"Eris's Zero?" She blinked. "He has a brother?"

"He does," Lina said, looking up. "It was news to us as well. We thought Zero and his sister were the only two of their kind."

"Jex has been studying the systems used to create the original Scorperio prototypes," Eric continued. "If anyone understands how these implants work, it's him."

More cyborgs working on her case should've set off alarm bells. Instead, something loosened in her chest. These people knew the tech from the inside out, not from some manual.

"And he's not Imperial?"

She refused to put T'Raal on the spot, especially after everything he'd done for her.

"Definitely not." Lina gave her a slight smile. "He's with the Reapers, another mercenary unit. They're not Imperial. More like... aggressively independent?"

"What would getting him involved mean?" she asked.

"Consultation, initially," Tal said, his earlier frustration replaced by interest. "Analysis of your neural damage patterns, comparison with the data he's already collected."

Eric nodded. "Jex has access to all the research data on the Scorperio units, stuff we can't get anywhere else. The development files, tech specs, and the failure reports from the earlier prototypes."

"The kind of info that might help us figure out why your implants are failing while those from other batches are different," Lina added.

Forget more treatments—she wanted intel. Why were she and Hughes falling apart when other veterans were still mission-capable? There had to be a reason.

"No procedures," she said finally. "Consultation and analysis only."

"Of course." Eric nodded immediately. "Jex doesn't work that way. He's very methodical, cautious about informed consent."

She nodded. "Then contact him." The decision felt right, though she couldn't say why.

"I'll coordinate with him on your medical data." Tal turned to his console. "Share scan results, treatments, progression analysis."

"Good." Reese slid off the examination table, testing her balance. The neural stimulator continued its quiet work, sending pulses through her damaged nervous system. "How long before we can set this up?"

"A few days, probably," Eric said, already moving to the comms console. "Jex will need time to analyse the data and put something together."

"And in the meantime?" she asked.

"Continue current treatment," Tal replied. "The neural stimulator's working well, and we're seeing steady improvement in your mobility."

"Steady." She caught the implied timeline. "But not fast enough to help with the court case."

"No," Tal admitted. "Unless Jex is a miracle worker, this is long-term rehab, not a quick fix."

The reminder of her upcoming Earth trip sent tension up her spine. In just a few days, she'd be in a courtroom presenting evidence while her opponents smiled and made nice, while all the time planning to take her out.

"Then we go with what we've got," she said, channeling T'Raal's practical approach. "Thank you. All of you."

"We'll find answers," Lina said with confidence. "Between Jex's expertise and what we're learning from your treatment, we'll figure out how to help the other veterans as well."

Reese nodded, but wondered if those answers would come too late for Hughes, Ryans, and the others. They were running out of time, just like her.

But hope beat giving up. And if Zero's brother could help save even one more veteran...

Then the risk was worth it.

She could still feel T'Raal's goodbye kiss on her lips.

They'd stood on the Sprite's cargo ramp, Earth behind them. His hands had cupped her face, memorizing her.

"You don't have to do this alone," he'd said, his voice tight.

"Yes, I do." She'd pressed her forehead against his. "This is my fight, T'Raal. My people. I can't have someone else swoop in and save the day."

He'd understood. She'd seen it in his eyes—the struggle between protecting her and respecting her choice. Respect had won, though it cost him.

"Come back to me," he'd whispered.

"I'll do my best."

Now she stood alone on courthouse steps, the cold wind biting through her jacket. Her best would have to be enough.

Shit. The place looked like a fucking fortress. Reese stopped at the bottom of the courthouse steps, watching the stream of suits and reporters flowing through the entrance. Lawyers, journalists, bureaucrats. And somewhere in that crowd, corporate sharks were circling.

The neural stimulator hummed against her spine as she climbed toward the entrance. Tal's tech couldn't help her fight the corporate lawyers, but it could help her stand on her own two feet and look the assholes in the eye while she did.

The lobby buzzed. Lawyers clustered around data terminals. Court reporters moved between groups. Security personnel watched from positions near high-tech security scanners.

Hughes stood near the information kiosk, his face drawn with exhaustion. The tremor in his left hand had worsened since their last call. Beside him stood Mason, a tall woman with sharp cheekbones and a jagged scar running from her left temple to the corner of her mouth.

"Captain," Hughes said as she approached. Relief flooded his features. "Wasn't sure you'd make it."

"Wouldn't miss it." She kept her voice level despite the concern his appearance triggered. "How are you holding up?"

"Same shit, different day." His attempt at humor fell flat. "Some mornings I can't feel my left arm. But I'm still breathing."

Mason's expression was grimmer. "Williams never showed."

The words punched through Reese's gut like a blade. Williams had been scheduled to testify about the systematic elimination of lawsuit participants.

"When did you last hear from him?" Reese asked.

"Three days ago. Said he was en route, had new evidence about the corporate cleanup operations." Mason's hands clenched into fists. "His transport never arrived."

Shit. Another veteran silenced. Another voice eliminated. The cold rage that had fueled her through months of legal battles built in her chest like pressure behind a dam.

"How many witnesses do we have left?"

"Three. Us." Hughes managed a bitter smile. "We're it I'm afraid. And we wouldn't be here if they hadn't accepted that you are actually alive rather than dead like Nexus claimed you were."

"The lawyers? Did that change their minds?"

"Now. They dropped us yesterday." Mason shook her head. "Cited security concerns and diminishing witness pool. Recommended we accept the revised settlement."

"Which is?"

"Enough to cover basic medical expenses for three months. No admission of wrongdoing. No recall of defective units. No justice for the veterans who died fighting this." Mason's hand touched the scar on her cheek. "Barely enough to keep us alive while they finish the cleanup."

Fuck. These people had followed her into this mess, trusted her to know what she was doing. Now they were down to three witnesses and a public defender against an army of corporate lawyers. But she'd been in worse spots before.

"We proceed as planned." Reese squared her shoulders. "Present the evidence. Make the case. Force them to respond to charges they can't dismiss."

"The batch numbers they erased—" Hughes began.

"Are gone. But not the medical records showing identical symptoms across multiple veterans." She adjusted her document case, pulling out a dataflex. "We prove the pattern exists. Force them to explain how so many veterans developed identical damage from supposedly different sources."