Page 60 of Alien’s Retrieved Mate

She was right. The Saurok attacking a frontier outpost to recapture one escaped captive changed the political calculus, escalating a protocol dispute into an interstellar incident.

We reached the relay station. The Chelani operator was huddled under her console. Zhara convinced her to restore the uplink, then walked her out into the corridor and stood in the doorway while I transmitted on the Authority priority channel.

Renn answered. "Kel? We received reports of weapons fire at⁠—"

"Saurok hunters. Five. Draxis sent an extraction team for the human. They're down but more will follow."

"Draxis attacked a neutral outpost? That's⁠—"

"An act of aggression against a civilian station. Document it. Report it to the Galactic Mediation Council. And Renn — tell Commander Veska that the situation has changed."

"Changed how?"

"The Saurok are committing acts of violence to recapture a being who is under Valorian protection. Standard processing protocol is no longer viable. If the Authority processes Taylor and returns her to Earth, the Saurok will find her there. An uncontacted world. With no defenses against interstellar predators."

Silence. I could hear Renn processing the implication.

"The memory wipe doesn't protect her," he said slowly. "If Draxis wants her badly enough to attack an outpost, he'll track her to Earth."

"Correct. The only way to protect her, and to protect her planet's uncontacted status, is to ensure she remains under Valorian jurisdiction."

"Which means..."

"Which means the bond declaration is not just personal. It's strategic. A formally bonded Valorian mate is a Valorian citizen. An attack on a Valorian citizen is an act of war. Draxis can threaten a frontier outpost. He cannot threaten the Valorian military."

More silence. Then Renn's low laugh cut through the static. "You magnificent bastard. You're not asking for permission. You're building a case."

"I'm building the truth. She needs protection that exceeds what standard protocol can provide. The resonance bond is the mechanism. The political reality is the context. But the choice—" I looked at Taylor, who was leaning against the corridor wall, watching me with those brown-and-green eyes. "The choice is hers."

"You know what this means for your commission. Bonded specialists are automatically reassigned to administrative⁠—"

"I know what it means."

A pause. "Eight years, Kel. Top of the roster. You'll be filing reports at a desk."

"I know what it means, Renn."

"Get to the transport point. I'll have a ship there by morning. And Kel — make the declaration before you board. Once you're on an Authority vessel, the bureaucracy takes over. Do it on the station. Civilian witnesses. It's binding even without Council presence."

Renn paused. Then, more quietly: "One thing. Civilian-witness declarations have been challenged before. Council Member Thrane is the Council's senior traditionalist, and the one who will care most about this. His faction overturned one forty years ago. Frontier outpost, non-Valorian witnesses, and the Council ruled insufficient cultural standing to verify bond authenticity."

My chest went cold. "What are you telling me?"

"I'm telling you to make sure you have at least one witness who can speak to the bond itself. Someone who's seen the markings respond to her. Someone who can testify not just that words were spoken, but that the resonance is real. A stranger saying 'I saw them do the ritual' won't survive Thrane's scrutiny. Someone who's watched you together — that's harder to dismiss."

Zhara. She had seen us in the jungle. She had watched my markings flare. She had been the one to explain resonance to Taylor when I'd been too much of a coward to do it myself.

"I have someone," I said.

"Good. Because if Thrane challenges and wins, the declaration is void. And then she's just an uncontacted species individual on a Valorian station with no legal standing."

That settled in my chest like stone.

Through the bond, beside me, she was steady. Not the fear I expected, not the anger from earlier. Something quieter. She was still leaning against the corridor wall, Zhara a silent shadow at the junction beyond her, and the emotion coming through the resonance had settled into a low, steady certainty. I read it as a decision, but I would not turn my hope into her answer before she spoke it. It settled against my ribs like a hand pressed flat over my heart.

I held onto that feeling while the political machinery threatened to grind us both to dust.

"Good luck," Renn said.