Page 51 of Alien Mercenary's Wife
She heard Tal agreeing and T'Raal's footsteps nearing the door. She pressed deeper into the shadows, waiting as he emerged from the doorway.
He looked tired, she realized. Tension etched lines around his eyes, and his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. But that didn't give him the right to decide her fate or the fates of the others.
T'Raal turned toward his quarters, walking with his usual predatory grace. She followed, her footsteps silent on the deck plating. Military training ran deeper than damaged nerves.
She waited until his door closed before covering the final distance. The control panel chimed softly as she activated the entry request, then stepped inside without waiting for permission.
T'Raal looked up from where he'd been reaching for something on his desk, surprise flickering across his face.
"Reese. Everything alright?"
"No." The word came out harder than she'd intended, carrying months of frustration and the fresh burn of betrayal. "Everything is not alright."
His posture shifted subtly, going into commander mode. "What's wrong?"
"Imperial medical technology." She air-quoted. "Neural pathway reconstruction, cellular regeneration protocols, genetic repair sequences. Any of that sound familiar?"
He went still. "You were listening."
"I was walking back to my quarters when I heard you and Tal discussingmymedical condition.Myprognosis.Mytreatment options." She stepped closer, anger giving her strength despite the exhaustion pulling at her. "Decisions about my life that you were making without consultingme."
"It's not that simple?—"
"Isn't it?" She cut him off. "There's Imperial technology that could reverse my condition. It could help Hughes and Ryans, and all the others who are dying from these implants. And you dismissed it out of hand!"
His jaw tightened. "There are complications?—"
"There are always complications. That's why we make hard choices instead of easy ones." She moved closer, getting right in his face. "But you didn't even consider it. Didn't think it was worth discussing with the person whose life is on the line."
"I'm trying to protect you."
"Protect me?” She scoffed, her blood boiling. “By keeping me in the dark? By lying to me about my own fucking condition?"
"I wasn't lying?—"
"Tell her the treatment is ongoing. Don't give her specifics." Her voice turned mocking. "What do you call that if not lying?"
T'Raal's hands clenched at his sides. "Managing the situation until we have more information."
"Managing the situation?" She barked a laugh. "I'm not a ‘situation’ to be managed. I'm a person with the right to make informed decisions about my own medical care."
"You don't understand the implications?—"
"I understand that there's treatment available and you're blocking access to it." She stepped closer again, poking him in the chest with a hard finger. "I understand that you'd rather watch me die than accept help from the Empire."
Something dangerous flickered in his expression. "That's not what this is about."
"Then what is it about? What's so terrible about Imperial medicine that you'd condemn me and dozens of other veterans to paralysis rather than consider it?"
"Because I'd have to ask thedraanthingEmperor!" The words exploded out of him with enough force to make her take a step back.
She stared at him. "You'd have to ask the Emperor? What do you mean 'ask the Emperor'?"
T'Raal's expression set as he looked down at her.
She shook her head. “That’s bullshit… I mean, do you know the guy personally or something?”
"Yes! I do!” He burst out. “He's my father!"
