"You're attached to that jacket," Kirr observed, and she heard the smile in his voice even though she refused to turn around and confirm it.
Heat flooded her cheeks. "It's warm."
"Mmm."
The sound rumbled through his chest, warm with amusement, and she wanted to be annoyed but couldn't quite manage it. Not when exhaustion dragged at her bones, guilt sat like lead in her stomach and Delilah's heartbeat kept climbing on the monitor—fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty?—
"Commander." A new voice cut through Harper's spiraling thoughts. Female. Crisp. Official.
Harper's head snapped up.
A Latharian woman stood in the medical bay entrance, datapad in hand, wearing what had to be some kind of uniform. Not medical scrubs. Something more formal. Navy fabric with silver trim that screamed bureaucrat.
Oh shit.
Harper's pulse kicked against her throat.
"I need to speak with Ms. Sawyer regarding her status with the Latharian Mate Program." The woman's Terran was perfect, no accent, each word precisely enunciated.
Kirr shifted, moving to stand beside Harper rather than behind her. His presence was solid, grounding, but she barely noticed. All her attention had locked onto the woman with the datapad and the official uniform and the expression that promised nothing good.
"She's not available." Kirr's voice had gone flat. Professional. Nothing like the warmth he'd used with Harper moments ago. "This needs to wait until?—"
"This matter requires immediate attention." The woman's gaze found Harper, cataloged her with the efficiency of someone used to processing problems. "Ms. Sawyer, I'm with the Latharian Mate Program administrative division. We need to discuss your contract status."
Contract status.
The words landed like a punch to her already bruised ribs.
She forced herself to stand even though her legs shook. Forced herself to meet the woman's eyes even though every instinct screamed to run. "What about my contract?"
"You missed your scheduled pickup." The woman consulted her datapad, tapped something that made the screen glow. "You and Ms. Delilah Sawyer were assigned to report to LMP offices for processing and transport yesterday evening. You failed to appear."
"We had an accident." Harper's voice came out steady despite the panic clawing up her throat. "The crash?—"
"The crash occurred because you and Ms. Sawyer took the signing bonus and went on what I believe humans call a 'bender' rather than waiting for authorized pickup." The woman's tone stayed professional but Harper heard the judgment underneath. "You breached your contract. Both of you."
The floor tilted. Harper locked her knees to keep from swaying.
Breached the contract.
Oh god. Oh god, she'd breached the contract.
"That wasn't—I didn't—" Her thoughts scattered. She grabbed for words, for explanations, for anything that might make this not be happening. "Delilah wanted to go out. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen and I couldn't just leave her alone, so I went with her to make sure she didn't?—"
"Your motivations are irrelevant." The woman's expression didn't soften. "You signed a binding agreement. You accepted the signing bonus. You were required to report for processing and transport. You failed to fulfill those obligations."
Her hands clenched in Kirr's jacket. The leather creaked under her grip.
"What does that mean?" But she already knew. Already felt the answer sitting cold and heavy in her gut.
"It means your application to the Latharian Mate Program has been rejected due to contract breach." The woman tapped her datapad again. "You'll be transported back to Earth within the next twelve hours. Ms. Delilah Sawyer will be transported once she's medically cleared for travel."
No.
The word screamed through Harper's mind, but she couldn't force the words out.
Back to Earth. Back to the data center that was laying people off. Back to the tiny apartment she couldn't afford. Back to poverty and failure and the endless grinding weight of barely surviving.
