The male wore a scowl, a scar through his eyebrow—which was unusual, as Baylans healed quickly and rarely scarred—and a tight, unadorned black uniform. “Deepest apologies for the intrusion, Saar-king, high physician,” the male said. “I lacked the time to explain myself to each of the guards at your checkpoints. My credentials allowed me access.”
Zade’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly are those credentials?”
The Baylan pulled down the corner of his uniform, revealing a set of ink-black soul markings that made Drace’s and Zade’s brows rise. “As you can see, I have access to every base ship by order of the Elder Council. But I do apologize for the abrupt intrusion.” The male nodded to the two of them. “I am Malak Drak-Nix, master tracker of the ship Syl-1.”
The Syl-1 belonged to a division of the Baylan military that was barely ever mentioned. It was the newest addition in the Baylan fleet and a highly advanced stealth ship. Its every mission was a secret one, directed by the Council of Elders, who were the only authority above the Saar-kings and Saar-queens.
“I understand that you, Zade Baru-Nok, are the physician treating the human survivor of the unknown attack on Earth.”
Zade crossed his arms with a skitter of trepidation. “You are correct, Malak Drak-Nix.”
“My sources say she has regained consciousness.”
“She has.” Zade wondered who or what his sources were. Of course, it would be an easy task for a Syl-1 agent to access the medical records of a patient. The fact that one of its operatives was here about Ashley was a sign that whatever had attacked her was a bigger problem than initially perceived.
“Previous efforts to locate and neutralize the being that attacked her and others have failed, so I am being sent to Earth to complete the mission. I need what information you have on it, including how the female describes it.”
“She does not describe it,” replied Zade. “She remembers nothing of her attack.”
Malak’s scowl deepened. “Is there a way you can retrieve the memories?”
“No. Memory loss is a common result for humans and Baylans with head injuries.” He raised an eyebrow. “I can send you my preliminary report, which profiles the creature, based on what we have learned so far. I have narrowed the possibilities to forty-seven known species. Some tests are ongoing and take time to complete.”
The male’s jaw hardened. “Earth and Bayla do not have time for tests. We need this being gone, and quickly. There have been more attacks, with unfortunate results.”
“More have died?” asked Drace.
“Two humans, in addition to animals,” Malak replied. “But we fear a fast escalation if the creature moves into populated areas. Certain regions are being evacuated. However, some of the surviving animals have fallen ill. Their subsequent slow deaths have been unnatural to the ecosystem there.”
Zade closed his eyes as dread uncoiled through him. “A rotting or dissolving of the body, resulting in a black, oily substance.”
Malak nodded, his gaze sharp on Zade. “I would be grateful for your preliminary report and anything you learn subsequently.” He tapped the device behind his ear. “I am sending you my secure link. Upload what you have. My rate of success will increase if I can identify it.” His eyes narrowed and he pulled in a deep breath through his nose. “Why do you suppress your body’s hormone production?” he asked abruptly.
Zade did not move, but his body tensed. “That is none of your concern.”
The tracker tilted his head. “It is if the success of my mission, and many lives—including my own—is dependent on data provided by an impaired male. I would know why you would do this to yourself, or I shall inquire with your Saar-king.”
Drace crossed his arms, also waiting for an explanation.
Zade drew in a sharp breath. Master trackers were trained to perceiveeverything. Their senses were naturally attuned, but it was said that technology on the stealth ships existed to medically augment them further, to pick up the slightest scent, the faintest sound, the tiniest speck of movement.
“I have recently discovered that the female survivor is my mate.” He suppressed a wince as he heard Drace’s indrawn breath. “I wear theenibandto suppress my urges, for her protection, until she is healed.”
“She does not know?” asked Drace.
“No,” Zade said through his teeth. “She is still recovering from traumatic injuries—mental and physical. She lost a leg and all four of her companions. Learning she has acquired an alien mate will not aid her recovery.”
The tracker held his gaze for several long moments. “Understood.” He brought his fist to the center of his chest, then extended his hand, palm outward, in the Baylan gesture of gratitude. “Thank you for your cooperation, Zade Baru-Nok.” He turned and began striding away.
“I have not announced my mating,” Zade said after him. The request to keep the information secret was unspoken, but hung in the air.
The tracker paused. He drew his fingers across his forehead. “It is already forgotten, high physician,” he said, and Zade half wondered if it were actually true.
“You could have told me,” Drace said quietly. “I understand this process.”
“But I do not,” Zade replied harshly. “No matter how many times I have given the diagnosis of a mate to a Baylan—including your own brother—it remains something I struggle to reconcile within myself.”
“Being mated is not a ‘diagnosis,’ Zade,” Drace murmured. “It is not a disease to treat. It is a biological function and a cause for celebration.”
