Page 16 of Alien Mercenary's Wife
Valid concern. The Warborne's reputation opened some doors and welded others permanently shut. Approaching Earth space with a ship full of wanted mercenaries would create exactly the kind of attention that got people killed.
He considered their options while the ship hummed around them. Official channels meant scrutiny they couldn't afford. Commercial transport required documentation that they didn't have. Fighting their way through human security was possible, but messy.
Then he remembered their unexpected advantage.
"Lizzie." He keyed the comm with one finger. "Mind joining us?"
Minutes later, Tal's mate appeared in the doorway, her calm presence immediately shifting the room's energy. Lizzie was quiet competence personified, someone who preferred growing things to killing them, and sometimes hereallyappreciated that.
She was also connected to imperial nobility in ways that none of the rest of the crew knew about.
"Captain?" She settled into the chair with fluid grace.
"Need to get into human space without attracting attention. Official visit, diplomatic immunity, the kind of approach that keeps security from asking uncomfortable questions."
Lizzie's eyebrows rose slightly. "Specific requirements. May I ask why?"
"Rescue mission. Someone Eris served with."
"Ah." Understanding flooded her features. Family was family, regardless of species or political boundaries. "Imperial credentials would solve that problem."
He waited. Lizzie never made hasty decisions, preferring to consider all angles before making a commitment. It was one of the things he respected about her.
"Jessica's at Devan Station," she said finally. "Diplomatic mission, trade negotiations with human representatives. Mother's with her."
Eris frowned. "How does that help?"
Lizzie's smile transformed her serious face. "Because Jessica is Lady Jessica, consort to Laarn K'Vass and mother to Princess Miisan, current secondary heir to the Imperial throne."
You could have heard a pin drop in the office.
"So you're a fucking princess?" Eris asked, voice perfectly flat.
"Language." Lizzie shot her a look. "I'm the aunt of a princess. Subtle difference."
"Barely," he leaned forward. "Can you contact your sister?"
"Already planning to." Lizzie stood with the same fluid grace. "She'll be surprised, but pleased. And she'll understand the mission's importance once I explain."
After Lizzie left to make her calls, Eris remained seated, shaking her head slowly.
"Imperial connections." Her smirk held dark amusement. "Better than shooting our way past human security, I suppose."
"Good people are good people, regardless of bloodlines." He settled back into his chair. "Besides, Lizzie's botanical research has saved our asses more times than I can count."
Eris chuckled, some tension bleeding from her shoulders. "Fair point. So we're doing this? Going to Earth to extract my old captain?"
"We're Warborne," he shrugged. "It's what we do."
After Eris left to prepare, he returned to his supply manifests, but his mind was already racing ahead… routes, contingencies, the hundred details that turned desperate plans into successful operations.
Somewhere in human space, a former Scorperio commander was fighting for her life against corporate killers. She had no idea help was coming, or that her former subordinate had found a new family willing to go to war for her.
5
The spaceport reeked of too many bodies crammed in one space, with an undertone of industrial-strength disinfectant. Reese moved through the chaos of departing passengers and cargo handlers like she belonged there. Head down, trudging along... just another maintenance worker in grimy coveralls. Under the coveralls, the exo-legs hummed against her skin, a constant reminder of her current situation.
Funny how quickly you adapted to being broken. A decade ago, she'd walked into briefings with the confidence of someone who could drop ordnance on a target from five klicks out. Now she was grateful for obsolete tech that kept her upright long enough to run from corporate assassins.
