Page 87 of Salvation for the Alien Mercenary
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Mira dug her fingernails into her palms as Covak worked the edges of her wound, trying to distract herself from the pain. The antiseptic stung like hell, but there was no way she was going to cry out. Her other arm stayed curled around Spot’s damaged frame, refusing to let go even for treatment. The little drakeen’s sensors flickered weakly, his legs bent at angles that made her wince just looking at them.
Davis loomed beside the medical bed, his face tight with worry as he tracked Covak’s every move.
“Hold still,” the Vorrtan medic said, applying the sealing agent. “Just a flesh wound. Watch for infection, and you’ll be fine.”
She nodded, sneaking glances at Davis. He hadn’t budged since they’d stumbled into medbay, hadn’t let anyone but Covak near her.
Across the room, Jex tended to Jesh’s arm. The cyborg woman had taken a hit during the battle. She caught Mira’s eye and gave a quick nod of solidarity.
Spot’s circuits whined, his casing hot against her side. His sensors flashed erratically, each pulse weaker than the last. Something sparked beneath his armor, and he twitched hard against her arm.
“Hey, hey, stay with me,” she whispered, her voice cracking as his lights dimmed further. Not Spot as well. Not after everything.
Davis moved closer, those alien eyes narrowing. “His main circuit board’s fried. The neural link pushed his systems too far.”
“I can help with that,” Jesh said, sliding off her bed despite Jex’s disapproving mechanical sigh. She joined Davis, examining Spot with clinical precision. “Pass me that micro-tool kit.”
Davis grabbed it from Jex’s tray without asking, his bigger fingers surprisingly nimble as he and Jesh popped open an access panel on Spot’s underside.
“What are you doing?” Mira tightened her grip on Spot.
“Saving him.” There was no hesitation in Davis’s voice. “Trust me. Please.”
She swallowed hard, then nodded and loosened her hold. Davis and Jesh worked together, their fingers dancing through damaged circuits, rerouting power through backup systems. Spot’s whining faded, his sensors stabilizing to a dim but steady blue.
“That’ll hold until we can fix him properly,” Davis said, wiping carbon smudges off his fingers. “He’s tough. He’ll make it.”
Spot chirped weakly, his sensors flashing blue-white-blue. He nudged against her hand.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ryke said from the doorway as he strode in. “That thing’s bonded to you.”
“He’s not a thing,” she snapped, pulling Spot closer. “He just doesn’t want to be alone anymore.”
Nobody argued. Rann slipped in behind Ryke, looking like he hadn’t slept in days.
“They’re all over the comms,” Rann reported. “Setting up search grids for us.”
“Ship’s locked down,” Ryke added, “but we’ve got company on long-range. Bastards are persistent.” He snorted, confidence etched in his stance. “Not that they’ll catch us. We’ll be three systems away before they even figure out our exit vector.”
Covak finished with Mira’s wound and stepped back. “Did anyone grab K’ell in the shitstorm back there?”
Davis’s jaw clenched. “Lost him in the firefight. Grabbed his research and ran while we were pinned down.”
Mira’s fingers froze on Spot’s casing. “What? But… what happens to you now? The stabilization treatment?”
Everyone looked at Davis.
He stood motionless. The transformation had completed what the first blast started. His frame had bulked up, muscles packed tight beneath his skin. He matched Ryke’s height now, with the same predator stance. His eyes locked on hers… pupils slitted vertically, surrounded by gold rings nearly swallowing the blue. Alien eyes. Latharian eyes.
Her breath caught. Her pulse jumped.
“I’m fine,” Davis said, his voice deeper than before. “During the battle, when I was running to you—” His gaze held hers. “Everything just... settled. The pain stopped.”
Jex moved to his console, scanning readings. “Fascinating. Combat stress hormones might have triggered the final integration. Your cells have stabilized.”
“So that’s it?” Anson asked. “Crisis over? No more transforming during firefights?”
