“With the help of my friends.” Alina’s smile was almost impish. “My original research grant come with extensive administrative access. And I have developed a rather extensive network of contacts.”
She laughed despite herself. “You’re full of surprises, Dr. Falkner.”
“Alina. And yes, I am.” She pushed away from the table and moved to one of her data terminals. “Here’s what I’m thinking. Jaz Kour died in the avalanche that blocked the valley pass—the one Adjar triggered to stop the GenCon pursuit. The cyborg rangers recovered debris from the site, and found evidence of a snow crawler caught in the slide. Tragic accident. Case closed.”
“But I’m obviously not dead.”
“Obviously not. But as far as the official records are concerned, Jaz Kour is. Which means a new prospector with a different name and a different history can file for a new claim and have a perfectly legitimate reason to be exactly where GenCon doesn’t expect you to be.”
The elegance of it was almost breathtaking. A clean slate. A fresh start. All the advantages of her previous life without any of the baggage that GenCon could use to track her.
“What about Adjar?”
“What about him? With any luck GenCon will believe that whatever they were looking for was also buried in that avalanche.”
“I was thinking more about hiding him. He can’t exactly blend in. Even when he hides his wings, he’s…” She gestured vaguely. “Over seven feet tall. Covered in scales. Obviously not human.”
“He’s not human,” Alina agreed. “But as long as he’s registered as your partner and stays out of populated areas, no one will look too closely.”
Partner.The word sent an unexpected warmth through her chest. That’s what he was, wasn’t he? Not just whatever a mate meant in dragon terms, but a true partner. Someone she was choosing to build a life with.
“This is a lot,” she said slowly. “The documentation, the registration, covering up my ‘death’… You’re putting yourself at risk.”
“I’m helping a friend.” Alina’s voice was matter-of-fact, but her eyes were soft. “And it’s not as much of a risk as you think. The cyborgs have been hiding things from GenCon for years. Also having someone in the polar territory who may be able to identify emergence sites before GenCon does? Who can reach survivors and bring them to safety? That’s not risk, Jaz. That’s strategy.”
“Strategy that could get you in serious trouble if anyone looks too closely.”
“Then we make sure no one looks too closely.” Alina turned back to her terminal, her fingers already flying across the interface. “I’ll need a week to get everything in place. The claim registration, the identity documents, and the supply chain access. In the meantime, you and Adjar should stay here and keep a low profile.”
“A week of Adjar trying not to murder Rhyx every time he walks into a room.”
“A week of the two of them learning to coexist.” Alina glanced over her shoulder with a wry smile. “Consider it diplomatic training. They’re both going to need it if more dragons start waking up.”
She had a point. Multiple dragons, each with their own territorial instincts… The coordination required would make colony politics look simple.
“Alina.”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. For everything.” Her voice was rough with an emotion she didn’t quite know how to express. “I’m not… I’m not good at this. Asking for help. Accepting it. I’ve spent most of my life making sure I didn’t need anyone.”
Alina stopped typing and turned to face her.
“Choosing to trust someone, choosing to let them help you—that’s not weakness. It’s the hardest kind of strength there is.”
All those years alone on the ice, telling herself it was freedom. All those walls she’d built, convinced they were protecting her.Adjar sees through them, she thought.He sees me. And he stays anyway.
“Found family,” she said quietly.
“What?”
“Something Adjar and I talked about last night. Building connections by choice rather than circumstance. Creating a family because you want to, not because you have to.”
Alina’s smile was luminous. “I like that. Found family.” She turned back to her terminal. “Now let me work. You have a new life to prepare for.”
The week passed fasterthan she expected.
There were documents to review, signatures to forge, and cover stories to memorize. Her new name was Jasmine Allende, and her backstory was appropriately dull. She was a former equipment technician from the southern mining belt, looking for a fresh start after a corporate restructure eliminated her position. Nothing that would attract attention or invite questions.
