Page 2 of Salvation for the Alien Mercenary
"Imperial salvage is regulated for a reason," the alien said, lowering his voice to a wet rasp. "Some of that shit is still active. You get yourselves killed, that's your problem. But if you blow up my yard, I'll hunt down whatever's left of you."
Ryke's mouth twitched in amusement. "Understood."
A buzz and clank signaled the gate unlocking. The Reapers filed through, and Mira followed, very aware that she was the smallest and most breakable person in the group. Fourteen days aboard the Lady's Dream, and she still felt like she was walking among giants.
The salvage yard stretched out, a massive graveyard of spacecraft parts and military tech. Mountains of twisted metal rose like jagged islands from a sea of smaller debris. The distant edges of the yard disappeared into heat haze, despite the relatively mild temperature. Everything glinted with a film of condensation, making the rusted edges gleam deceptively beautiful in the thin sunlight.
Where do I even fit here?The thought ambushed her as she caught her reflection in a polished piece of hull plating—small, fragile, unmistakably human. Unlike Jesh with her cybernetic enhancements or even Davis with his huge human-but-not-quite physique, she was just... Mira. Former assistant. Former victim. Current what, exactly?
"You all have your lists," Ryke said, his voice cutting through her thoughts, carrying easily over the wind whistling through metal canyons. "We're looking for parts compatible with the Dream, so priority on propulsion control circuits and shield harmonizers. Stick to your assigned sections. Two hours."
The team began to pair off—Ryke with Rann, Covak with Jesh, Anson with Jex's Scorperio suit. Which left...
Davis Tell stood a few feet away, scanning something on his wrist device. He didn't look at her as the others dispersed, the metal under their boots sending hollow echoes across the yard.
She swallowed. Hard. Davis was technically human, but it was easy to forget that fact. At six-foot-five with shoulders that could fill a doorway, he made her feel even smaller than the aliens did. And unlike them, he was difficult to read—his expressions always carefully controlled, his words measured. Difficult to read, and the most drop-dead handsome man she’d ever met. Handsome, intense, and utterly unreadable. Just being near him tied her thoughts in knots, a confusing mix of the fear he’d inspired when they’d first met and the electric awareness that had sparked when he’d first touched her.
He looked up suddenly, catching her staring. Something flickered behind his eyes—but it was gone so quickly she might have imagined it. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. He retreated behind that professional mask so quickly, leaving her feeling wrong-footed, like she was always one step behind understanding him.
"Come on," he said, nodding toward the eastern section of the yard. "We've got a lot of ground to cover."
She was forced to run to keep up. The silence between them stretched out as they picked their way through the debris. It wasn't comfortable—it feltcharged. She risked a sideways glance, but his face was impassive. Perhaps she was imagining it?
"So," she ventured a few minutes later, "What are we looking for first?"
He glanced at her. "Shield regulator assembly. They're too delicate to fabricate with our equipment. Easier to pick them up and retcon them."
"Makes sense." She stepped over a twisted piece of metal, her nose wrinkling as she caught the sharp tang of scorched wiring. "I thought Latharian tech lasted centuries, though?"
“Yeah.” He gave a sharp nod. "When it's maintained properly. And not jury-rigged into something it was never meant to be in."
More silence. She bit her lip, tasting salt and dust. Two weeks aboard the Lady's Dream, and he was just as much a mystery when he'd grabbed her by the throat in Dr. Rettnor's office. While the other Reapers had gradually warmed to her, Davis maintained a careful distance—professional but never friendly.
Why did that bother her so much?
He stopped suddenly, checking the device in his hand. "We're close to something on the list."
Turning in a slow circle, he frowned as the device emitted a soft beeping. One that sped up as he pointed it toward a smaller pile of scrap.
"There." He strode toward it, and Mira trailed behind.
They spent the next few minutes digging through the pile, occasionally finding usable parts that Davis stored in his pack.
"Hold this." He handed her the scanning device and began to dig out something buried deeper in the pile. "It's showing something important underneath all this."
She took the scanner, trying not to stare as his muscles flexed under his tight-fitting shirt. He lifted heavy pieces of metal aside with an effortless grace that belied his size. When he turned to toss aside a particularly large chunk of debris, she bit her lip at the way all the muscles in his back tightened. God, the man had an ass that could crack walnuts in those combats. Why did he have to be so damn attractive? It was distracting as hell.
She looked down at the scanner, heat flaring over her cheeks as she forced herself to concentrate on something, anything, else.
The device in her hands was fascinating. The screen glowed with a faint blue light that cast shadows across her fingers, and the display showed a three-dimensional rendering of their surroundings with various hotspots highlighted. One blinking dot represented whatever Davis was digging for.
But there were other buttons along the side. Curiosity got the better of her. She pressed one and the display changed, showing different energy signatures rather than physical components.
A new ping appeared on the screen, not far away from where they were.
"Huh," she murmured, tapping the display. The energy signature was unusual. At least, she thought it was unusual, for all she knew it could be an alien toaster. But, if she squinted her eyes and kind of looked sideways at it, all the alien words and the interface kind of made sense to her. And the pattern on screen reminded her of the neural-interface gaming systems she'd worked with before Rettnor had smashed her rig. And her confidence right along with it.
Davis muttered something under his breath as he reached deeper into the pile. He wasn't paying any attention to her, but she still hesitated for a moment. She really should tell him… but he was busy. Fuck it. She took off, picking her way carefully through the scrap and following the new signal. The scanner's faint electronic hum joined the crunch of her footsteps on scattered debris.
