Page 16 of Signed, Sealed, Seduced (You’ve Got Alien Mail #1)
Chains and Choices
Henrok
The scent of battle clings to me like a second skin.
Bitter, metallic, familiar. I stand before the strategy table in my private war chamber, surrounded by holographic projections of the fortress’s defenses.
The beacon sits at the center, its black surface absorbing light like a miniature void.
Three cycles have passed since Suki brought it to me, three cycles of preparations and calculations.
Three cycles of her presence disrupting the ordered rhythm of my existence.
Even now, as I focus on tactical assessments and defensive protocols, part of my awareness remains fixed on the small blinking light of her tracking bracelet.
She is currently in the repair bay, likely examining the final modifications to her ship.
The thought of her running those competent hands over upgraded systems, her expression focused with professional satisfaction, sends an unwelcome heat through my chest.
I force my attention back to the matter at hand.
My warriors await my command, their crystalline markings pulsing with anticipation. Vex’ra stands to my right, her diplomatic facade stripped away to reveal the tactical mind beneath. To my left stands Krev, my second-in-command, his scarred face impassive but his eyes watchful.
“The trap is set,” Krev reports, his voice a low rumble that resonates through the chamber. “All non-essential personnel evacuated to the lower levels. Defense grid recalibrated to the secondary protocols. The beacon’s signal will trigger our countermeasures the moment it activates.”
I nod, satisfaction a cold weight in my chest. Whoever sent this device intended to cripple us. Instead, they will reveal themselves, and in doing so, seal their fate.
“And the courier?” Vex’ra asks, her tone carefully neutral.
The question sends a ripple of tension through me that I work to suppress. “What of her?”
“She has access to sensitive areas,” Vex’ra points out, her crystalline markings pulsing with subtle emphasis. “If she is involved—”
“She is not.” The words emerge with more force than intended, revealing more than I care to admit. I moderate my tone, aware of how my warriors’ attention sharpens at my reaction. “The courier was a tool, nothing more. Unwitting, but useful nonetheless.”
Even as I speak the words, they taste false on my tongue. Suki Vega has never been merely a tool. From the moment she stood before me and refused to be cowed, she has been something far more dangerous—a variable in an equation I thought I had mastered.
Vex’ra’s crystalline markings pulse with skepticism. “You seem... certain of this assessment.”
I turn to face her fully, allowing a fraction of my displeasure to show. “I am First Blade. Certainty is expected of me.”
She inclines her head, accepting the rebuke, but her eyes hold a knowledge I find unsettling. “Of course, First Blade. I merely suggest caution. The human has proven... unpredictable.”
An understatement that borders on the comical.
In her brief time here, Suki has breached our security, repaired an ancient droid no one bothered to fix for decades, and discovered a plot that my own security forces missed.
She has also, I realize with growing awareness, begun to occupy my thoughts in ways that have nothing to do with tactical concerns.
The memory of her on the observation platform during the ion storm surfaces unbidden—the wonder in her expression, the way she’d leaned toward me during our conversation, the warmth of her presence beside me in that cocoon of light and energy.
I had felt more myself in those moments than I had in cycles, as if her presence had somehow reminded me of who I was before duty and command consumed everything else.
“The courier will be contained during the operation,” I assure them, though the words feel hollow. Suki has proven remarkably difficult to contain in any meaningful way. “Her ship is nearly repaired. Once our trap is sprung, she will depart.”
Something shifts in my chest at these words—a discomfort I cannot name and refuse to examine. The tracking bracelet shows her still in the repair bay, likely making final preparations for departure. The thought should bring relief. Instead, it creates a hollow sensation that resembles loss.
“Preparations are complete,” I announce, bringing the briefing to a close. “Return to your positions. The signal will be given when—”
The chamber door slides open without announcement, a breach of protocol so unexpected that every warrior in the room reaches for their weapons. But it is not an enemy who enters.
It is Suki.
She strides in as if she belongs here, as if my war chamber is simply another corridor to navigate.
Her hair is pulled back in a practical braid, her borrowed Zaterran attire modified in ways that should look absurd but somehow enhance rather than detract from her natural grace.
She carries a small device in one hand, her expression set in lines of determination I have come to recognize—and, I admit, admire.
The sight of her here, in my most private sanctum, sends a jolt through me that has nothing to do with security concerns. She looks... right, somehow. As if this place has been waiting for her presence to make it complete.
“Sorry to crash the war council,” she says, not sounding sorry at all, “but we have a problem.”
Krev moves to intercept her, but I stop him with a gesture. My warriors watch the exchange with barely concealed curiosity, and I realize they have never seen me defer to anyone during a tactical briefing. The precedent is dangerous, yet I find myself unable to care.
“Explain,” I command, though my tone is gentler than I would use with any of my officers.
She approaches the strategy table, seemingly oblivious to the tension rippling through my warriors.
Up close, I can see the flush of exertion on her cheeks, the way her modified attire clings to her form in ways that make concentration difficult.
She smells of engine coolant and that sharp, clean scent that is uniquely hers.
“Your trap won’t work,” she says, placing her device beside the beacon. “Because this isn’t just an override beacon. It’s a transmitter.”
I narrow my eyes, studying the small device she’s brought. It appears to be a scanner of some sort, cobbled together from parts likely scavenged from her ship. The ingenuity required to create such a device from available materials is impressive, another reminder of her remarkable competence.
“Elaborate.”
“I’ve been analyzing the beacon’s energy signature,” she explains, activating her device.
A holographic display springs to life, showing wavelength patterns I recognize as quantum resonance fields.
“It’s not just designed to override your defenses.
It’s meant to transmit their specifications to an external receiver. ”
The implications hit me immediately, but I find myself more fascinated by watching her work than alarmed by the tactical revelation.
Her fingers move with practiced precision over the improvised controls, her expression focused with the same intensity I’ve observed during her repair work.
There is something compelling about competence, regardless of the task.
Vex’ra leans forward, her scientific curiosity overriding her diplomatic reserve. “That is... not possible. Our defensive schematics are isolated from all external networks.” Her crystalline markings pulse with suspicion. “How would a mere courier recognize quantum resonance patterns?”
Suki’s mouth quirks into a half-smile that does dangerous things to my equilibrium.
“Before OOPS, I did two years in the Orion Outpost’s Engineering Dock.
Specialized in signal intelligence before a disagreement with command about ethical hacking practices.
” She taps the display, expanding a section with casual expertise.
“When you deliver to the kinds of places OOPS sends us, you either maintain your technical edge or you don’t survive long. ”
Another piece of the puzzle that is Suki Vega falls into place.
Not just a courier, but a trained engineer.
Not just competent, but skilled in ways that complement her natural intelligence.
The revelation should not affect me as it does, yet I find myself reassessing everything I thought I knew about her.
“What makes you believe our defensive grid is vulnerable to such a crude device?” I ask, though I suspect I already know the answer.
“Maybe normal tech wouldn’t work against your defensive grid,” Suki agrees, manipulating the display to zoom in on a particular pattern.
“But this isn’t normal. See this resonance pattern?
It’s designed to read and transmit quantum states.
Your defenses might be isolated, but they still operate on quantum principles, right? ”
I exchange a glance with Krev, whose expression has shifted from dismissal to concern. He understands, as I do, the implications of what she’s saying. More importantly, he recognizes the technical expertise required to reach such a conclusion.
“The beacon would not simply disable our defenses,” I say slowly, the full scope of the threat becoming clear. “It would provide our enemies with the exact specifications needed to bypass them permanently.”
“Bingo.” Suki nods, her expression grim. “One-time override would be bad enough. But this? This is like handing over the keys to your kingdom. Forever.”
The chamber falls silent as my warriors absorb this information. It is Krev who finally speaks, his voice tight with controlled rage.
“How did you determine this? The beacon has been under guard since its discovery.”
Suki gives him a look that, on a Zaterran, would be considered insubordinate enough to warrant disciplinary action. On her, it is merely... Suki. The defiance that first caught my attention, now focused on protecting us rather than defying us.