Page 16 of Alien’s Love Child

CHAPTER 16

TYREN

T he Boss' office reeks of cheap cigars and expensive cologne. I stand at attention, my military training kicking in despite the gaps in my memory.

"Tyren, you're my best man for this job." The Boss leans back in his leather chair, smoke curling around his face. "That smuggler I told you about, Jesse, she's got something we need. Data. Bioweapon schematics."

"Why now?" My head throbs. Every time I try to remember anything before three years ago, it's like hitting a wall.

"Because money's getting tight. Our usual shakedowns aren't turning profits. And when they suffer, we suffer, which makes them suffer more. That bioweapon was our ticket to the highlife. But Xander's dead, blown to bits in that explosion. The one you did everything to prevent. This is our last shot at getting those plans." He taps ash into a crystal tray. "Word is she's holed up on a remote station, playing house."

"And you're sure she has the data?"

"Has to be. Xander uploaded everything to her ship's computer before we grabbed him. Probably thought he was being clever, having a backup." The Boss slides a data chip across his desk. "Here's her last known location, credentials, everything you need."

I pocket the chip. Something doesn't sit right, but I can't place what. "Simple grab and bag?"

"Get creative if you have to, but I want her alive. She's the only one who might know where those files are hidden."

"Consider it done." I turn to leave, but he calls after me.

"Oh, and Tyren? Don't let that pretty face fool you. She's craftier than she looks. Real mind games, that one. And not afraid to use her pretty face either."

The corridor outside his office stretches long and empty. My boots echo against metal flooring as I head for the docking bay. A ship waits, sleek and dark, ready for immediate departure. The guard nods as I board, no questions asked. That's how things work in the Lightyear gang - do your job, keep your mouth shut.

As I break atmosphere, I study Jesse's file. Red hair, green eyes, known associates. But something about her image makes my chest tighten. Must be the headache again. They've gotten worse lately, along with these strange flashes of... something. Memories that don't feel like mine.

I punch the coordinates into the autopilot, before going back to Jesse's picture. This should be a straightforward job. So why does it feel like I'm missing something crucial?

I trace the scar tissue across my chest. The Boss saved my life that day. At least, that's what they tell me.

"You were a mess when we found you," The Doc had said while changing my bandages those first few weeks. "Third-degree burns, skull fracture. The explosion nearly killed you."

My fingers find the ridge where synthetic skin meets real flesh. "Lucky you boys were there."

"Lucky the Boss believes in loyalty." Doc's words echo in my memory. "Most would've left you for dead."

The gang spent a fortune on my recovery - reconstructive surgery, physical therapy, cognitive rehabilitation. A lifetime of memories, gone in an instant. But they gave me purpose, an identity. Tyren, their most effective enforcer.

"Your name's Tyren," the Boss had told me when I first woke up. "You're family."

The headaches spike whenever I try to remember anything before that day. Doc says it's normal, that traumatic brain injuries take time to heal. But sometimes...

I pull up Jesse's file again, studying her face. Something tugs at the edges of my consciousness, like a word stuck on the tip of my tongue.

"You're one of us now," the Boss reminded me during our weekly check-ins. "We take care of our own."

And they have. They gave me a home when I had nothing, not even memories. The least I can do is bring them what they need. This woman, this smuggler - she's just another job.

The headache intensifies. I close the file and press my palms against my eyes until stars burst behind my eyelids.

The throbbing in my skull becomes unbearable. I fumble through my pack for pain meds, dry-swallowing two tablets. The tiny cabin feels like it's spinning, so I stretch out on the narrow bunk.

Space debris pelts against the viewport, creating a rhythmic pattern that lulls me under. My consciousness drifts, and suddenly I'm in a dark alley. Water streams down my face, but I'm not cold. Heat radiates between two bodies pressed together.

Red hair slides through my fingers like silk. Green eyes, bright even in the darkness, stare up at me. Her breath catches as I push her against the wet brick wall. The scent of her skin fills my nose - sweet with a hint of engine grease.

She whispers against my mouth. Her fingers trace patterns on my chest, setting my nerves on fire.

I capture her lips, drinking in her taste. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I support her weight easily. Our clothes are soaked through, clinging to skin, but we don't care. Nothing exists except this moment, this woman, this burning need.

The dream shifts, fragments. Flashes of pale skin decorated with freckles. The sound of my name breathed like a prayer. The feeling of coming home.

I jolt awake, covered in sweat. The headache has dulled to a manageable ache, but my heart pounds against my ribs. The viewport shows we're still in hyperspace, stars streaking past in endless lines.

"Just a dream," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. Must be the isolation getting to me. Can't remember the last time I was with a woman.

But something about it felt so real. The way she said my name...

But that wasn't my name. What was it? The memory is fading, fast.

Probably for the best.

My PerComm flickers to life, casting a blue glow across my face in the dim cabin. Jesse's file expands into a network of connections, faces floating like ghostly markers in the holographic display.

A furry face catches my attention - Paraxan, an Odex. Something about those whiskers... A flash of memory: the smell of spiced meat, fur floating in soup. My stomach growls in response.

"Display crew manifest," I command, and more faces materialize.

Rena, the pilot. Blonde hair pulled back tight, expression no-nonsense even in her ID photo. The way she holds herself screams military training. A tickle of recognition makes my head throb. Had she been at the controls that day?

Taluk's photo shows a young Vakutan trying too hard to look tough. His red scales gleam under artificial light, but there's something off about his pose. Like he's playing a part.

"Cross-reference: explosion on Glimner, three years ago."

My PerComm chirps, pulling up news articles. Most mention Xander's death, but what caused it... no word. Investigation closed. No bodies found. They must have slipped away with the data while I lay burning in the wreckage.

The Boss was right. They're the key to everything. My fingers trace the scar on my chest as determination solidifies in my gut. Whatever games Jesse's playing, whatever tricks she has planned - I'll find those files.

The headache spikes again, but I ignore it. The mission is all that matters now.

I track Jesse from the shadows of the station's maintenance corridors. Her work clothes are stained with grease, red hair tied back in a messy knot. She moves with purpose through the cramped streets, dodging vendors and avoiding eye contact.

My head pounds watching her. Something about the way she walks, the swing of her hips...

"Fresh bread!" A vendor's cry breaks my concentration. "Still warm!"

Jesse pauses at her apartment complex, an aging structure that's seen better days. The security panel beeps as she enters her code. I memorize the pattern of her fingers.

After she disappears inside, I find a shadowed alcove across the street. The wait stretches on, my muscles cramping from staying still. Just as I consider moving in, the door slides open.

Jesse emerges with a small boy clutching her hand. My breath catches. His skin is pale blue like mine, silver hair falling into eyes that match his mother's. He can't be more than three.

They turn down an alley - a shortcut to the transport hub. I circle around, cutting through a maintenance shaft to get ahead of them. The familiar weight of my stunner presses against my hip.

The alley opens into a small courtyard. Perfect. I step out of the shadows just as they round the corner.

Jesse freezes. The boy peers around her legs, curious. Her face drains of color as she takes me in, those green eyes widening with recognition and fear.

The boy, all innocence and unable to comprehend his situation, greets me with a cheerful smile. Jesse's eyes go wide in both recognition and fear.

Just as I thought. She must have assumed she'd left me for dead.

Jesse snatches up the boy and bolts down a side passage. My training kicks in as I pursue, tracking their footsteps echoing off metal walls. The station's maintenance corridors twist like a maze, but I know these routes better than she does.

A flash of red hair whips around a corner. The boy's crying now, his sobs bouncing off the walls. My chest tightens at the sound.

I cut through a service tunnel, emerging ahead of them. Jesse skids to a stop, clutching the boy to her chest. Her eyes dart around, seeking escape.

"Nowhere to run." I draw my stunner, keeping it low but visible. "Come quietly."

"Please." Her voice breaks. "He's just a child."

The boy buries his face in her neck, silver hair exactly like mine catching the light. Something tugs at my mind, but I push it away.

"Then don't make me use this. You're coming with me, one way or another."

She backs away, shielding the boy with her body. "I'll scream."

"And security will find a known smuggler trying to flee. How well do you think that'll work out?" I take a step closer. "Your son doesn't need to see his mother stunned and dragged away. Make this easy."

Her shoulders slump. Defeat crosses her face as she sets the boy down.

"Leo, baby, stay right here. Mommy needs to talk to this man."

She approaches slowly, hands raised. When she's within reach, I grab her bare arm to secure her - and the world stops.

Electric shock races up my arm. My skin burns where we touch. I know this feeling; something that's been etched in my blood since birth. A warning of what's to come passed down from generation to generation.

This criminal smuggler is my Jalshagar. My fated mate.