Page 44 of Salvation for the Alien Mercenary
Anson hunched over his datapad. Covak sprawled in a reinforced chair, looking like a mountain trying to get comfortable on a molehill. Ryke stood at the head of the table, expression shifting from neutral to suspicious as he tracked Davis's entrance.
There. Rann. Looking calm and collected by the tactical display.
Davis's focus immediately shifted to Mira without conscious effort. She sat near the far wall, Spot curled at her feet like a little mechanical guard dog. Her hair was pulled back in that messy bun that exposed the curve of her neck. His fist curled at his side as he remembered tracing the line of her neck with his lips last night.
Their eyes met across the room. Something electric passed between them, but then her gaze dropped to his clenched fists, then back to his face, wariness entering her expression.
He positioned himself between her and Rann without thinking about it. It felt right, putting himself as a barrier between her and the pilot.
"Now that we're all here," Ryke began, his deep voice commanding immediate attention, "let's start with ship status. Anson reports the secondary shield generators at ninety-three percent after repairs. Jex has plotted our course to the Leranian sector. Estimated arrival in thirty-six hours."
Davis barely heard him, his focus locked on Rann. Now that he was watching the guy, he caught details he'd missed before. The Imperial military posture, the combat-ready stance that never fully relaxed. All hiding in plain sight.
"Fuel reserves at seventy-eight percent," Ryke continued. "Ammunition stocks?—"
"He's lying to us," Davis said, his words slicing through the briefing.
The room went silent as everyone turned toward him.
Ryke's eyes narrowed. "Explain yourself, Tell."
Davis kept his gaze on Rann. "Ask him about the M'Suun. Ask him why he fights exactly like they do. Why does he handle their weapons like he was born with one in his hand?"
Rann frowned, and his posture shifted, weight transferring to the balls of his feet. "What are you talking about?"
"Davis," Ryke warned, "if you have concerns, there are protocols?—"
"No more protocols," Davis said, taking a step forward. "We've been shot at twice in as many weeks, and you expect us to believe it's random? That bounty hunters just happened to use specialized M'Suun techniques that Rann here mirrors perfectly?"
Rann's expression hardened, but something flickered behind his eyes.
"The male's compromised," Rann said to Ryke, gesturing toward Davis. "We all saw what happened in the galley. Whatever that weapon did to him is affecting his judgment."
Davis felt his temperature spike, blood roaring in his ears. "Jesh, show them."
Jesh stepped forward, calm amid the rising tension. "I've analyzed the combat footage from both encounters," she said, activating her datapad.
The holographic display expanded above the table, showing split-screen comparisons of Rann's movements against the M'Suun attackers. "The correlation between Rann's techniques and M'Suun elite training is ninety-three percent. That's not a coincidence."
The crew watched in silence as the evidence played out… the hand positions, the footwork, the weapon familiarity.
"Also," she concluded, "Rann's reaction upon first visual contact with the M'Suun indicates prior recognition."
All eyes turned to Rann.
"You knew exactly who they were," Davis pressed, moving closer. Heat surged through his body, muscles burning with something that felt like power injected straight into his veins. "You knew, and you said nothing. Every time they've attacked us, you've known their moves before they made them. That's not adaptation. That's insider knowledge."
His voice dropped. "What are you hiding, Rann?"
The room seemed to shrink around them.
"You're putting everyone at risk," Davis continued, closing in. "PuttingMiraat risk."
Her name triggered something inside him like a detonator. Fire raced along his nerves, his vision sharpening until he could count the pores on Rann's face. His muscles burned, strength surging in waves.
"Davis."
Mira's voice cut through the haze. From the corner of his eye, he saw her half-rise, one hand reaching toward him. Concern mixed with something deeper in her expression.
