Page 12 of Her Alien Mercenaries
“Yes,” Torren agreed. “You are ours, and we will protect you, support you, and do our best to make you happy.”
Jenna smiled and squeezed Zanyr’s fingers before reaching her other hand out to Torren. “That sounds like a good place to start.”
She was right about that. This was a good beginning. The problem was, he already wanted more.
Patience. She wasn’t Vardarian, so she would need more time to come to terms with the situation. He’d vowed to keep her safe and happy. That meant curbing his desires until she was ready.
Qarf. He hoped that didn’t take long.
5
Jennaand her newly discovered mates talked about easy things, the way strangers do when they are first getting acquainted. Torren told stories about his family, mostly about the mischief he got into when one of his fathers first introduced him to chemistry.
Zanyr spoke about his work on the farm along with vivid descriptions of the land that made her long to see it for herself. In turn, she shared parts of her story—where she’d been raised and how she’d made a living for herself instead of signing on with the corporation that held the debt she’d incurred while living under their care.
Torren raised his hand. “Wait. You mean the corporation that raised you expected to be paid back for the cost of your upbringing?”
“It’s the way it works.” Jenna shrugged. To her, this was simply a fact of life. “They consider it an investment, and they expect to make a profit in the end. Usually, that means their wards sign employment contracts once they turn seventeen. They work for the corporation until their debt is paid off.”
“How long does that usually take?” Zanyr asked. He leaned toward her as he spoke, his amber gaze fixed on her.
The attention made her uncomfortable, but she did her best to ignore the feeling as she answered his question.
“That depends on the type of work done. If someone has specialized skills or takes on high-risk jobs, they could clear their debt in about twenty years, sometimes less. For basic labor, it could take forty years or even more if they incur more debt for violations, additional training, or serious medical expenses.”
“They penalize their employees for getting hurt or getting additional instruction?” Zanyr looked perplexed and horrified at the same time.
“Why hasn’t your species done something to stop this?” Torren asked.
She’d asked the same question more than once, and the answer was always the same. “They do, Zanyr. And we can’t stop it because somewhere in our history, we allowed the corporations to grow too powerful. We set ourselves on this path, and by the time we realized what was happening, it was already too late. They control most of the wealth, power, and influence, and no one can hold them accountable. Well, almost no one. The Interstellar Armed Forces, especially Nova Force, does what it can, but they have no jurisdiction over Earth or any corporate-owned planet.”
The three of them lapsed into silence for a long moment. Jenna picked at the food Saral had brought out, but nothing tasted as good as it had a few minutes ago.
“We need to bring more of your females here,” Torren said.
Zanyr sighed and scrubbed a hand over his stubbled chin. “We’re trying. I mean, the leadership council wants to do more, but we’re being blocked at every turn. The corporations don’t want to lose their pool of potential workers, plus many of them are still angry we were given this planet at all. They’d rather we packed up and went back to our part of the galaxy.”
She’d forgotten Zanyr was on the leadership council. He didn’t act or look anything like she’d expected. Though, now she thought about it, most of the council were surprisingly ordinary. Except for Prince Tyran, of course. He was a royal in every sense of the word. “You’ve done more than anyone else has. If not for the chance to come here, I would have spent the rest of my life on Earth.”
“There’s no other way out?” Torren asked.
Zanyr answered first. “Other ways, yes. Good ways? No. Earthers can buy their way onto a colonist ship and hope the place they land will support a colony. Some pay even more to try to reach one of the independent stations, but that’s a big risk. From what I understand, more humans end up spaced, forcefully recruited into criminal groups, or sold into slavery than ever reach safety and freedom.”
Then he cocked an eyebrow at hisanrik. “I’ve mentioned this before. You should pay more attention to my venting after I come back from my meetings.”
Torren held up both hands. “I try. But the important stuff must have gotten lost between your rants about a reliable food supply for the colony’s livestock and the long-running argument over what kind of law enforcement this colony should have.”
“It’sallimportant,” Zanyr grumbled.
“And I want to hear all about it. I mean, everything you’re allowed to talk about,” Jenna said.
She’d learned far more than her former employers realized because most of them didn’t see the staff as people and spoke of all kinds of things where they could be overheard. She’d learned this skill after her first family kept secrets she should have been aware of, like the fact they never intended to take her with them when they left Earth for their next assignment. That betrayal left her with lasting scars and a vested interest in knowing what was really going on around her.
“You would?” Zanyr’s expression softened into a pleased smile.
“Now that’s an idea. Zan, you can vent to ourmahayafrom now on and leave me in peace!” Torren looked utterly smug as he made his suggestion.
“That’s fine with me. There’s so much I want to know about Haven and how it works. We’ve been told the basics, of course, but you’ve seen it all from a very different perspective.” Her interest was real, but she had an ulterior motive. She could feed some of the most innocuous information to the ones who had recruited her. She’d need Shadow’s help to figure out which items would be the least dangerous but would make it look like she was doing her part.
