Page 1 of Alien Warrior’s Claim (Nyxari Bondmates #1)

MIRELLE

T he alarms shrieked through the corridors of The Seraphyne, red emergency lights pulsing in rhythm with each ear-splitting wail. I braced myself against my console as the ship lurched violently, sending several crew members tumbling to the deck.

"Hull integrity failing in sections twelve through fifteen," a mechanised voice announced with maddening calm. "Catastrophic engine failure imminent."

Around me, the control center had descended into controlled chaos. Status screens flashed crimson warnings, and the acrid smell of burned circuitry filled the air. Through the viewport, I caught glimpses of a planet below—swirls of blue and green beneath angry storm clouds.

The ship gave another violent shudder beneath my feet as I gripped the comm system. "This is Logistics Officer Duvane. All personnel proceed to emergency evacuation points. This is not a drill."

Captain Reeves appeared at my side, his face ashen. ", reroute power to the escape pod launch systems. We're losing reactor containment."

My fingers flew across the console, overriding safety protocols and diverting emergency power. The ship pitched again, nearly sending me sprawling.

"How many pods are operational?" the captain asked, steadying himself against my station.

I checked the readouts, my stomach sinking. "Thirty-two. But we've got almost ten thousand colonists."

"It'll have to do." He turned to address the bridge crew. "Begin emergency evacuation procedures. Priority to children and medical personnel."

I activated the ship-wide evacuation alert while continuing to stabilise what systems I could. The Seraphyne had been my home for three years—watching it die around me felt like losing a piece of myself.

Through the viewport, the planet grew larger. We were caught in its gravitational pull, plummeting toward the surface at a speed that made my heart stutter.

", get to the evacuation station in section seven," Captain Reeves ordered. "Coordinate the loading procedures."

I hesitated. "What about you, sir?"

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I'll be right behind you."

We both knew it was a lie.

I made my way through corridors choked with panicked colonists, shouting directions and trying to maintain order. "Section B through F, to evacuation point three! Families with children to the front!"

A woman clutched at my sleeve, eyes wild with terror. "My husband—he's trapped in engineering!"

"I'll send a rescue team," I promised, knowing it was likely futile. "Get to the escape pods now."

As I directed the evacuation, the ship entered the planet's atmosphere. The hull screamed in protest, metal warping under the intense heat and pressure. I braced against a bulkhead as the deck tilted sharply, sending people sliding across the floor.

"Everyone hold on to something!" I shouted.

That's when it hit—a wave of energy unlike anything I'd ever experienced, rippling through the ship's hull and washing over us. It felt like being struck by lightning, every nerve ending suddenly aflame.

I gasped, dropping to my knees as a burning sensation spread across my skin. It concentrated beneath the surface, tracing patterns up my arms and across my torso. Through tear-blurred vision, I saw others affected too—some of the women cried out, clutching at their arms or faces.

There was no time to process what had happened. The ship gave a final, catastrophic lurch, and the world around me dissolved into a cacophony of twisting metal and shattering glass.

"Brace for impact!" someone screamed, the words barely audible over the ship's death throes.

The Seraphyne struck the planet's surface with devastating force. I was thrown against a bulkhead, pain exploding in my shoulder before darkness claimed me.

I woke to dirt and blood in my mouth. Smoke burned my lungs, and something heavy pinned my legs. Blinking away grit, I found myself staring up at an alien sky—twin suns hanging low on the horizon, casting the landscape in an otherworldly amber glow.

With a grunt of effort, I pushed aside the debris trapping me and struggled to my feet. The world swam momentarily, and I grabbed a twisted piece of hull plating to steady myself.

The ship had broken apart on impact, scattering wreckage across a vast clearing. Smaller fires burned amidst the debris, and the air was thick with smoke and the moans of the injured.

Focus, . People need you.

Ignoring the throbbing in my shoulder, I went over to the nearest cluster of survivors. A young man sat cradling a bloodied arm, his eyes vacant with shock.

"Can you walk?" I asked, crouching beside him.

He nodded mutely.

"Good. I need your help. We need to get the injured away from the wreckage in case the power core destabilises."

Working methodically, I began organising the survivors into groups. Those with medical training were assigned to tend the wounded. The stronger ones I sent to search for supplies and more survivors trapped in the wreckage.

Hours passed in a blur of activity. The extent of the disaster became clearer with each passing moment—of the thousands aboard The Seraphyne, we’d lost so many. No sign of Captain Reeves or most of the bridge crew.

As I was helping establish a makeshift medical area, a towering figure approached—Security Chief Hammond, his uniform torn and dirty but his bearing as rigid as ever. Blood streaked one side of his face, giving him a fearsome appearance.

"Officer Duvane," he barked. "Report."

I straightened, automatically responding to the authority in his voice despite my exhaustion. "Three hundred and eighty-seven survivors accounted for so far by the various teams that I’ve coordinated with. Twenty-three critically injured. We've salvaged some medical supplies and emergency rations, but most of the ship's stores were destroyed in sections that burned."

“How many survivors do you think we’ll have?”

“At this point, I think the very best we’ll have is slightly less than a thousand.”

“There were ten thousand humans on that ship,” he said looking to the distance. “And now only a tenth of us are alive, if that.”

Hammond surveyed our makeshift camp with narrowed eyes. "And the rest of the command staff?"

"No sign of the captain or first officer. Dr. Selene is treating the wounded, but she's the only senior medical personnel we've found alive."

He nodded, as if this merely confirmed what he'd already concluded. "We need to establish a perimeter. This planet is an unknown—could be hostile fauna or worse."

I gestured to the devastation around us. "These people need medical attention and shelter, not military drills."

Hammond's eyes hardened. "These people need to survive, Officer Duvane. And I intend to make sure they do, with or without your approval."

Before I could respond, he turned and began barking orders at a group of dazed security personnel who had gravitated to his side. "Drake, Rickard—salvage what weapons you can find. Martinez, organise a scouting party. I want to know what's in those woods."

I bit back my retort. Now wasn't the time for leadership disputes.

As the alien suns sank lower, we managed to establish a rudimentary camp. The injured lay on makeshift pallets beneath shelters constructed from debris. Small fires provided light and warmth as the temperature began to drop.

I was distributing emergency rations when I felt it again—a strange tingling beneath my skin. Finding a secluded spot behind a section of wreckage, I rolled up my sleeve and examined my arm in the fading light.

Silvery patterns shimmered just beneath the surface, like liquid metal had been injected into my veins. The marks formed intricate swirls and lines that reminded me of circuit pathways or ancient glyphs. I traced one with my finger, finding the skin smooth and unchanged despite the alien appearance beneath.

Fear clutched at me. What was this? Radiation poisoning? Some strange effect of the planet's atmosphere?

"Gathering the survivors for an address."

I jumped at Hammond's voice, hastily rolling down my sleeve. He stood a few paces away, watching me with an unreadable expression.

"I'll be right there," I said, making sure the cuff of my sleeve was securely fastened at the wrist.

Hammond had positioned himself atop a large piece of hull plating, looming over the gathered survivors. The firelight cast harsh shadows across his face, making him look more imposing than usual.

"Listen up," he called, his voice carrying easily across the hushed crowd. "I am Security Chief Hammond, the highest-ranking officer to survive the crash. As of this moment, I am taking command of our situation."

A murmur ran through the crowd, but no one openly objected. The shell-shocked colonists looked relieved that someone was taking charge, their expressions a mixture of grief and desperate hope as they turned to Hammond for direction.

"We find ourselves in hostile, unknown territory," Hammond continued. "Our priority is survival. As such, I am implementing emergency protocols. Security personnel will maintain a watch rotation. All salvaged weapons and supplies will be centrally managed and distributed as needed."

His gaze swept the crowd. "Each of you will be assigned duties according to your skills and our collective needs. This is not a democracy—it is a survival situation, and I expect complete compliance with orders."

I shifted uncomfortably, noting how quickly he'd established his authority. While structure was necessary, his tone felt unnecessarily militaristic for a group of traumatised civilians.

"Officer Duvane will continue to manage logistics and supply distribution," Hammond added, nodding in my direction. "Report any issues or needs to her directly."

As the meeting broke up, I found myself staring at the alien forest surrounding our crash site. Strange calls echoed from its depths—trills and howls unlike any Earth creature. The trees themselves were odd—massive trunks with iridescent leaves that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

We were stranded on an alien world with limited supplies, no communication with Earth, and no real understanding of the dangers we faced. And now, to complicate matters further, these mysterious markings had appeared beneath my skin.

In the firelight, I noticed other women doing the same—discreetly examining their arms or necks before concealing them again, their expressions a mixture of confusion and fear. A medical technician named Rivera caught my eye as she pulled her collar higher, covering similar patterns along her collarbone. We exchanged a brief, understanding glance before looking away.

Whatever was happening, it wasn't isolated to me alone. The patterns affected multiple women but, interestingly, none of the men I'd observed.

Hammond passed by, pausing briefly at my side. "Get some rest, Duvane. Tomorrow we begin establishing a more permanent camp. And I’ll need you to start running some foraging missions."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without challenging his self-appointed leadership. As he walked away, I couldn't help but note how his gaze lingered on a group of women huddled near one of the fires, all of whom wore their sleeves pulled down despite the evening's warmth.

The air grew colder as night fully descended. Wrapped in a salvaged thermal blanket, I stared up at an alien sky, where unfamiliar stars glittered between twin moons—one silver, one a haunting blood-red.

Whatever strangeness had marked my skin, whatever dangers lurked in the forests around us, whatever power struggles might emerge among the survivors---none of it changed the fundamental truth of our situation.

We were stranded, far from home, with no rescue in sight.

And something told me our troubles were only beginning.

Tomorrow we’d begin to explore this land in earnest.