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One of the aliens stepped forward, and Blythe’s amusement faded as she studied him. He was big and looked as dangerous as hell, just like Rann and the white-blond one, Ryke, did.

Then she frowned.

Hang on.

He was bigger than Martel, considerably bigger, but there was something about his face… about his features… She looked from one man to the other, trying to place it.

The mouth. The shape of⁠—

“Brother.” The big man stopped in front of Martel. “What are you doing here?”

Blythe blinked.

Brothers? Martel’s brother was an alien? Holy shit. Was Maxim Martel an alien too?

Martel’s smile widened as he looked up at his brother. Now she’d seen the resemblance, she couldn’t unsee it.

She turned toward Stevie, hoping for some indication that at least one of them understood what the hell was happening.

No luck there. Stevie’s eyebrows had winged toward her hairline, her gun still aimed in Maxim’s general direction. Her attention flicked sideways as Ryke stepped up beside her.

“Want me to take that?” Ryke asked, holding out a hand toward the weapon she’d liberated from the guards on their rampage through the ship.

Stevie gave him a hard look. “I’ll keep it, thanks.”

His hand dropped, and he smiled. Stevie carried on watching him out of the corner of her eye, which Blythe would have found interesting under other circumstances.

Under these circumstances, she had enough to deal with.

Rann’s hand was still warm at the back of her neck, and she leaned into it before she could stop herself, then straightened as a much more pressing thought hit.

“We still have to find Callie⁠—”

“I already have her,” another voice answered from the doorway.

Layla came through first, stepping around a goat. Myla and Hope followed, with Callie right there among them.

Relief hit Blythe hard and fast. They were all here, upright and moving under their own power. The tightness beneath her ribs loosened, and she managed to draw a full breath.

Then the thing behind them ducked through the doorway, and her eyes widened.

Metal. Armor. A whole fucking lot of it.

She knew a Scorperio when she saw one, even if she’d never expected to stand in the same room as one of the heavy-tanker units. Her gaze traveled up the suit, taking in its bulk. Aliens, and now tankers?

Blythe looked at Rann, then Ryke.

“Explain. fast.”

Rann rubbed his thumb along her neck. “We’re the Reaper mercenary unit. Mostly Lathar.”

“I’m vorrtan, thank you very much.” That came from another of the biggest of the aliens.

“I used to be human,” Maxim’s brother added.

The Scorperio shifted in the doorway. “Cyborg actually.”

“I’m B’Kaar,” said a dark-haired slender guy, the same height as Rann. If not for his height and the way he had actual glowing freaking lines under his skin, she might have mistaken him for human. “We don’t consider ourselves latharian.”