Page 2 of Claimed By the Alien Mercenary

Chapter 2

Danitalin

The sight that met me through the microscope was beyond disappointing. “Another failure,” I muttered aloud, and with a sigh, I sank back into my chair, my hand going up to cover my eyes and rub away the strain of staying up this late. What now? I felt like I’d exhausted all my options with this particular strain, and the hopeful results of my initial tests were proving to be failures with each increasingly lengthy trial.

Enough of this. I could wallow in self-pity, I could sit in this stuffy lab and wish the results were different, or I could try to change tactics. Rising, I felt my spine protest, a sure sign I’d been bent over my microscope too long. So I swept from between the lab tables to the break room, which was blessedly empty at this time of night. Sinking into a Yadasca pose of relaxation, I made my body dance through each phase of the routine until all the kinks had smoothed from my muscles.

Then I headed for my locker, a refreshing shower, and a change of clothes. Sleep was going to elude me—it usually did these days—so I decided to go for a walk to clear my head. Perhaps I could take my sample collection kit with me and locate some new specimens of the pale purple flower I’d been using as the base for my latest experiments. Perhaps the key was not the flower itself, but some other part of the plant. I had not yet tested the root or leaf, since the interesting chemical mix was less pronounced in those parts than in the flower.

After my shower, I stood in front of the floor-length mirror to brush out my long hair. It was a bit of a luxury to have these accommodations, and I knew it wouldn’t be much longer that we could stay here. The planet had only recently become part of the Kertinillian Empire, and though the Kertinal military presence kept assuring us we were safe, I knew the Aderian government would soon pull us out. Rebel unrest was growing stronger, and it could result in war again.

I winced as I recalled the last time I’d been in what I’d consider a warzone. As an exceptionally powerful empath, my talents had required me to go into medical science, and I’d always considered it a path well chosen, even if the choice hadn’t been mine. I’d been considered especially suited for immediate triage, for emergency service, because my character had been appraised as steady and collected. Steady, collected—hah! I gave a humorless laugh that echoed hollowly against the tile. Those descriptors did not prepare you for the reality of so much death and destruction.

My mirror reflection showed me the figure of a slender, delicate Aderian woman in her early thirties. Long black hair lay in drying waves around my narrow shoulders, draping all the way down to the hollow of my spine. I’d lost muscle tone over the past few weeks, which made my ribs pronounced beneath the anthracite of my skin. Maybe my diet had also been lacking—in that I’d been forgetting to eat far too often.

Dressed in trou and shirt, I tugged on sturdy boots before grabbing my collection kit. I would pass the mess hall on the way outside, so I told myself I’d grab a bowl of noodles on the way. But then I saw the faint starlight filtering through the windows at the end of the hallway, and any thought of food was lost in the rush to get outside.

My breathing shuddered as I pulled in the thick, moist night air. This planet was wet, muggy, and it was always summer, unlike the much cooler climate of Llykhe, where I’d grown up. Something I had in common with my head assistant: Jeltom. I was beginning to miss the tall, white-capped mountains and fields of endless green, the smell of Aderian vineyards, and even the hum of the energy shields when a meteor storm lashed the planet.

Outside was still better than inside, even when it was a bit too warm and my shirt had already begun to stick to my back between my shoulder blades. I needed to walk off this tension and find a new thread to pull on this research. If I didn’t, I’d never silence the screams, the moans, the pain that greeted me in my dreams. With a shudder, I yanked my thoughts away from that backwater planet and the medical relief mission that had been supposed to be the start of my promising career.

Birds chirped in the trees and wheeled and dove beneath the branches as they snatched insects from the air in an aerial dance that took my breath away. Their wings shimmered with golden bioluminescence; they were gorgeous. Then there were the stars—bright and huge—because the planet was still mostly unpolluted with cities and spaceports.

The research compound had been assembled from quickly movable hubs that clicked together like building bricks. Depending on need and location, their order and layout could be changed on a whim. Around the facility, a fence had been erected, and Kertinal guards accompanied our Aderian escort in securing the location, hidden deep within the jungle.

Radin was not a densely populated world, but the locals were strong, and they were supposed to be dangerous. We weren’t actually allowed to go anywhere without an armed escort, but the thought of calling for one caused panic to spike in my chest. I did not like any of our Kertinal protectors. My empathic senses kept telling me they weren’t here for our protection, but rather there to keep us out of Kertinal business.

One male had a notch in his horn—sharp and jagged—right across the base. He wore the same Kertinillian uniform as the rest, but I was dead certain that notch meant he should have been discharged. Perhaps it was natural damage, perhaps I was misjudging him, but I didn’t think so. My senses were too sharp, too finely tuned for that, even after the emotional whiplash, the burnout, the relief mission on that poor world had caused.

I walked with confidence, chin up, spine ramrod straight, and crossed the compound’s courtyard to the gate like I meant business. That was a trick I’d learned long ago, when I needed to sneak out of my university dorm on a regular basis to avoid sensory overload. Walk like you had every right to be there, and people tended to believe you.

The gate was locked, but my security clearance gave me access to everything here. This was my mission, my research, and my funding. The others were all here to follow my lead, to assist me in the crucial research I was performing. Until someone told me otherwise, I assumed that meant I could also order any guards away. But there was no one at the gate, and I slipped out without being stopped.

It felt a bit like freedom when I followed the path outside the gate and then ducked between two tall jungle giants. Off the beaten path, I knew there were no cameras, no spying eyes. Oddly enough, it felt a little bit like I was finally safe. I trailed my hand over the trunk, rubbed the moss between my fingers with a thoughtful expression, and then abruptly froze.

I sensed them before I saw them. The tangle of their emotions—rigid, sharp—defined the way only military men had their feelings sharpened to hard points. It shouldn’t have made me feel the instant need to hide, but before I could consider how valid the impulse was, I found myself ducking for cover. My heart pounded in my chest, fiercely warning me that this was life or death, this was serious.

Their voices came to me then, filtering through the trees along with the steady crunch of boot steps. “I am telling you, Litarun, all is well. I have passed on your communication, and this was the answer. All is well. You can hold your position and let those brainiacs do what they came here for.” That was the voice of our Kertinal head of security, Commander D’aron. He might not have a notch in his horn, but he made me even more uneasy than the Kertinal who did. That man was a liar, a man of secrets and darkness.

“I see,” Litarun responded in that same slightly mewling tone he’d used just this morning to complain about my progress. Everyone was on my case to hurry up and get results, but they didn’t seem to understand how fragile these early phases were. From the sound of it, evacuation was still far out, though, and I drew in a relieved breath at that knowledge. Good, because I was nowhere near done.

I considered rising and slipping away or calling out so they could escort me as I retrieved more samples. Litarun shifted on his feet, and I held my breath. “What about Koratalin’s orders?” he hissed then, and I had never been more glad that I’d ducked and hidden. Why were they talking about my sister Koratalin? Her orders? Koratalin was about as far removed from Aderian medical science as I was from holding a gun right now. I also had not seen my half-sister in at least five years, not since I’d severed ties with our father.

At the time, I had not meant for that to also mean losing contact with Koratalin, but in hindsight, I knew I should have been relieved. She was ambitious, she was bright, and she lacked all the empathic sides of an Aderian, even though her mixed heritage barely showed in her outward appearance. Hearing her name was no coincidence, and I also didn’t once doubt that they were talking about her, not someone else with the same name.

Brushing a lock of hair behind my pointed ear, I angled it toward the two heads of security in case they said more. The Kertinal, D’aron, rumbled something in his deep subharmonic voice that I couldn’t fully hear. The accompanying feelings were sick and twisted, and cold fear washed down my spine. This was bad, I knew that even without the words, nothing good could come of a male feeling that kind of darkness.

Shortly after the hushed comment, they walked on, but I didn’t draw breath until I was certain they’d passed through the gate at the research facility. I had a feeling I was no longer the one in charge, but then, I’d known that all along, hadn’t I? This research mission had been greenlit and funded fast, much faster than I was used to. Red tape had been cut with lightning speed to get me on this newly conquered Kertinal world, too. At the time, I’d been so focused on reaching my goal that I hadn’t cared why or how it was happening, just that I got there—to this promising plant I’d become aware of, which might just be the key to the cure I wanted to create.

I took a deep breath when I rose, my eyes shifting back to the path toward the research facility. Now what? I was certain that D’aron was lying when he said we had more time. Rumors were flying left and right that hostilities were mounting, and if the natives discovered us here, we’d be the ultimate target—hostages they could take and leverage against the Kertinellian Empire. Not just the empire, but because we were Aderians, Aderia would put pressure on Kertinal for our safe return.

My brain was spinning, and later I might blame this choice on a chronic lack of sleep, but I turned away from the facility and headed deeper into the jungle. If time was running out and the danger was mounting, I needed to get my samples—many of them—and quickly. Perhaps if I had enough material to work with, I could continue my research elsewhere.

As I walked, I kept puzzling over Koratalin’s connection to this. We shared the same father but had not been raised together. My mom had always kept me far away from him, and it hadn’t been until I’d come of age and gone to study at the university in the capital that he’d reached out to me to form a bond. At the time—lost and strange, even by Aderian standards—I’d been desperate for meaningful connections. Hadralin hadn’t come alone; he’d brought with him an eager sister for me to bond with. For a time, it had felt amazing, and it had pained me greatly to lose Koratalin when I’d discovered the truth about Hadralin and cut him out of my life.

I tried to picture my half-sister as I picked my way through the jungle toward the flower field that had made this site ideal for the temporary research facility. She was tall and beautiful, with a sweet smile that could light up a room and a certain kind of earnestness that made you want to believe every word she said. I recalled that she had been engaged to a very promising doctor-surgeon at one point, but that had fallen through with no explanation.

My foot caught on a root, and my tired body struggled to right itself for a moment. I wobbled in the muck, but a sturdy branch offered me the support to keep going. Koratalin had been a friend more than a sister, the kind of woman who would draw me from my dorm and take me shopping, who would laugh over simple things and delight in the delicious Keftir ice cream. I gazed at the clearing of flowers and saw in them my sister: sweet and delightful, warm and caring.