Alien Protector’s Mate (Latharian Mate Program #4)

Chapter 5

5

T he noise hit her first.

Voices babbled in languages she couldn’t understand, mingling with the clanging of metal and the sizzling of food cooking on nearby grills. Jade moved with the crowd, allowing them to pull her through the market as she looked around wide-eyed. She’d thought the loading bay was madness, but now she could see it had some order.

This place, on the other hand, was marked by a complete lack of it.

Occupying an intersection where four corridors met under a massive domed ceiling, tall shipping containers converted into colorful shops were stacked three high with precarious metal walkways clinging to the side, which allowed customers to move between them.

Banners hung between the containers’ roofs, fluttering softly in the breeze from the huge air vents high up on the corridor walls. The heat from so many bodies packed together was stifling, even with them.

She moved deeper into the market, the crowd thickening, and she found herself shoulder to shoulder with all manner of beings. A large alien with shimmering green skin brushed past her, and her heart leaped as she spotted the personal camera on his shoulder. Ducking automatically, she pulled her cap down to shield her face in case he had anything to do with station security. She couldn’t afford to stand out any more than she had to.

He walked off without any alarms being raised. She breathed a sigh of relief and kept walking.

The alleyways between the stacked container shops were full of stalls. One overflowed into the next, filled with goods ranging from shimmering trinkets to pungent spices piled high in sacks. Her eyes darted from stall to stall, taking in the vibrant colors and stalls crammed with fruit, colorful tech gadgets, and strange alien artifacts whose purpose she couldn’t begin to fathom.

It was like being in a dream. Alien merchants of all sizes and shapes hawked their wares, their voices rising and falling in a chaotic symphony. She turned the next corner, her gaze falling on a group of rugged aliens laughing between themselves as they ate roasted meat from long skewers. The aroma wafted toward her, and her stomach tightened, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since… she frowned as she tried to remember. Was it this morning or yesterday? It could have been either. She’d been saving her nutri-blocks since she’d been old enough to realize that the Morgans wouldn’t buy her more if she ran out, so the days tended to run together.

She paused at a stall, her mouth watering at the sight of the colorful fruit laid out. At least these she could identify. They were all from Earth. The vendor, a four-armed creature with bright purple skin and more eyes than she could count, didn’t pause its conversation with a customer as it rolled an eye on the side of its neck toward her.

No luck there, then.

She sighed as she turned away. She needed food but not enough to get caught and sent home. Besides, she didn’t just need food. She also needed something to keep her warm and help her blend in here. Even though it was almost too warm in the market, the thick air difficult to breathe and sweat beading under her hat, her escape from the loading bay had been the opposite. She hadn’t realized how cold space stations could be until then. One thing was for sure. Her jacket was way too thin to keep her warm, and the high-vis vest would only attract attention.

She walked along the line of stalls, idly looking from one to the next and making it seem like she was just here to kill time rather than desperately searching for something that wouldn’t draw attention to her and her mismatched appearance.

A small stall tucked between two tech stalls caught her eye. Draped in rich, flowing fabrics that shimmered under the overhead lights, it was an explosion of color in all the grey of the tech. The merchant, a large, somewhat round alien with bright orange skin and a pink feathered mohawk, showed off garments tailored for those with more limbs than she had to anyone even remotely looking his way. She edged closer, fascinated. There were also dresses with extra sleeves that caught the air like ribbons, some odd pants with extra legs, and tunics split at the back. She frowned. What use were those to anyone? Her question was answered as two aliens walked up to the stall. Her eyes widened. Of course, they had wings. That was what the splits were for!

Shaking her head, she continued, pausing at a stall further on. This one had no fancy silks or ribbons. Instead, armor and rugged tactical gear lined the shelves. Each piece looked far too heavy, bulky, or downright alien for her. She brushed her fingers over a shimmering breastplate, trying to figure out the proportions. It had way more abs than it should have, and she wondered what kind of alien would wear it.

She fought her rising frustration as she pushed on, keeping her head down. She avoided eye contact, aware of how different she was from everyone else. Even her clothes, threadbare and ill-fitting, did nothing to help her blend in. They all but screamed “human.” The only good thing they did was hide the fact she was female.

Then something caught her eye. Another clothes stall sat at the edge of the crowd, and she slowed her pace, taking a step closer to the vibrant display. Though most of the garments were as bizarre as the first stall, a single rack at the back was different from the others.

Clothes of various sizes were draped haphazardly on it, some stained and discolored but still unmistakably human. A faded denim jacket caught her eye, its fabric worn, and a memory surfaced. Jared had once had a denim jacket like that. He’d been wearing it the last time she’d seen him alive, the day Mr. Morgan had taken him to the doctor. She’d never seen him again. He hadn’t even been ill.

She glanced around quickly. No one was watching. The aliens in the crowd flowing around her were too absorbed in their business. She stepped forward and reached out to stroke the fabric of the jacket, feeling the texture beneath her fingertips.

But then she hesitated for a second, looking around. What if it was a trap? But the vendor wasn’t paying any attention to her, leaning on a nearby stall as he chatted with the alien woman behind it. From the looks of it, he was flirting.

She bit her lip, looking at the jacket again. It was fleece-lined and looked warm. But what if the seller saw her take it… chased after her? What if they called the authorities? Where would she be?

Shoving the thought from her mind, she glanced over her shoulder again at the vendor. Still not looking. In one swift motion, she yanked the jacket off the hanger and tucked it under her arm, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

“Raaf!” a gravelly voice called from behind her. “Ilk tem sazniz! Nath tiv tol!”

She didn’t wait to see if the shouting was about her. Instead, she ran, dodging between bodies and stalls, the stolen jacket clutched tightly to her chest. She didn’t stop until she was well clear of the marketplace, her lungs burning and her legs trembling with exertion as she slowed down. She tried to look normal and like she wasn’t running from anything.

She unfolded the jacket and wrapped it around herself. The next step was to find a place to hide and figure out what she was going to do next.

A group of Lathar strode down the corridor, their heavy boots echoing on the metal floor, and she ducked behind some nearby crates. The noise of their conversation washed over her, and she quickly stifled her breath, pressing her back against the cold metal of the crate. The guards passed by without a glance in her direction, but the near miss sent a fresh surge of fear through her veins.

She had to find somewhere to hide.

With a deep, shuddering breath, she squeezed between the crates to peer into the wider corridor, her eyes darting as she weighed her options. To her left was the corridor back to the marketplace. Yeah, she couldn’t go that way. She looked the other way. The corridor branched out into a series of dimly lit alleyways.

A loud shout pierced the air somewhere behind her, and she stiffened. Shit. They’d found her. Panic clawed at her as she stepped back and ducked around the corner of the crates, her heart thundering as she looked around wildly.

She had to get away, but how?

Her eyes landed on a narrow hatch set into the wall, partially hidden behind some crates. The sign above it was in an alien script, but a symbol in the shape of a spanner above it was clear enough—a maintenance hatch.

Racing toward it, she yanked it open and squeezed inside. The space beyond was cramped and dimly lit, filled with pipes and conduits that snaked overhead like a maze. She didn’t care, curling herself into a small ball to reach back and close the hatch behind her.

The sounds of pursuit—shouts along with the thud of heavy boots on metal—cut in half. An angry voice shouted something, but she couldn’t understand it. She held her breath, every instinct screaming at her to keep quiet, to stay hidden.

Clenching her fists, she squeezed her eyes shut. If they found her…

The commotion grew closer. Louder. A voice barked orders, the sound of footsteps outside her hiding place.

Her heart raced so loudly she was sure they could hear it. The metallic taste of fear flooded her mouth. This was it. If they caught her, she’d be dragged back, maybe to the Morgans, maybe worse. Probably worse.

But then the sounds of pursuit swept past her hiding place. She held her breath, straining to listen as the voices faded into the distance. Then relief washed over her in a shuddering wave, leaving her weak.

They hadn’t seen her.

She leaned her head back against the cold metal for a moment, her breath escaping her in a shuddering sigh. She was safe—at least for now.

She slumped against the curved metal of the maintenance tunnel. Pulling the jacket tighter around herself, she reveled in its warmth. Something hard poked against her ribs, so she reached into the pockets. Her fingers closed around something small and rectangular. Pulling it free, she found a small nutri-bar, the kind workers used to replace an entire day’s worth of food while they worked.

“ Thankyouthankyouthankyou ,” she whispered. Someone was obviously looking out for her.

Tearing the wrapper open with trembling fingers, she crammed it into her mouth. The bar was dense and had an off flavor, but it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

It was gone too soon, and she sighed as the day’s events caught up with her. Exhaustion settled over her like a heavy blanket, and her eyelids grew heavy. She knew she couldn’t stay here for long, but for now, hidden with a full stomach and a warm jacket, she allowed herself to relax a little.

“One step at a time,” she murmured, her words slurring as sleep began to claim her. “Just… one step… at a time…”

The corridors were quiet as S’aad made his way to the station’s main training hall. That wasn’t a surprise; most people aboard were still asleep at this early hour. As he walked through the double doors of the training hall, the familiar scents of leather and sweat greeted him. Three warriors were already there, sparring in one of the circles farthest from the door.

He smiled as he headed over to them. “I should have known you three would already be here.”

Vaan grinned as he broke away from his opponent. “Oh, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence. We were beginning to think you’d forgotten about us, buried in all those human files.”

S’aad chuckled, clasping forearms with each of his friends in the traditional warrior’s greeting. Vaan wasn’t wrong; he’d missed training a couple of days this week, which was an unforgivable lapse for a warrior. “And miss the chance to remind you lot how it’s done? Never.”

K’rat arched his eyebrow, the multitude of honor beads in his hair clicking together when he tilted his head. “You’ve been missed. These younglings are getting a bit too big for their boots.”

“Youngling?” Zell snorted. Though the youngest of the group, he was still well over eight decades old with an impressive combat record. “Who are you calling youngling, old man?”

They all moved into place and began their warm-up exercises, going through the familiar forms of the diraanesh with the ease of long experience.

“So, S’aad…” K’rat looked over at him. “What’s the gossip? You had any interesting matches this week?”

S’aad rolled from one stretch into another to stretch out the back of his legs. “I’ve told you before. I can’t give you specifics before the official announcements. But yes.” He smiled as he relented. “We’ve had some good ones recently, actually. The new compatibility algorithms are kicking it. Totally a breakthrough.”

Zell leaned in with interest, stretching his muscular arms above his head. “What about us? Will they help you figure out who our matches are?”

“We know who your match is.” Vaan snorted. “A geatorian slugworm.”

Zell snarled and, grabbing his towel, threw it at Vaan’s face. The bigger warrior quickly ducked, grinning.

S’aad’s expression softened as he watched them. He knew what it was like to be unmated and watch the lucky warriors with their new mates. The longing. How unfair it felt when he knew it was anything but. “I promise, as soon as there’s a match for any of you, you’ll be the first to know. The system is thorough. It won’t miss a compatible pairing.”

“But couldn’t you, you know…” Zell leaned in and lowered his voice so that only they could hear. “Like take a look? Maybe give things a little… nudge in the right direction?”

S’aad froze, his voice low and dangerous when he answered, “Never suggest that again. Not even as a joke. I take my job and duty to the human females who trust me very seriously.”

Zell winced as he straightened, not meeting S’aad’s gaze as he spread his hands. “My apologies. I meant no offense. Just a joke, honest.”

S’aad stared at him and then nodded, allowing the tension to dissipate. “A bad one, so don’t do it again. The mate program is too important. Any hint of favoritism, and every clan in the empire will be breathing down our necks, or worse, landing on the planet below to take what they want. Can you imagine what would happen then? The human females would become nothing more than a commodity to be fought over.”

Vaan whistled between his teeth. “It would be a draanthing bloodbath, which is why…” He clapped a big hand where Zell’s neck met his shoulder. “It’s a good job this lug was joking. Okay, enough talk. Did we come here to train or not?”

He pushed Zell away, right into K’rat, and grinned. “Let’s see if our esteemed healer here remembers which end of a blade to hold.”

S’aad’s lips quirked upward at the corners. “Oh, I remember. The real question is whether you lot can keep up.”

There was no more talking. The four warriors threw themselves at each other in a display of fury that would have had most people running for the escape pods. They moved across the training mats with lethal grace as they exchanged blows, feints, and counters.

Their sparring match drew the attention of other warriors entering the training hall.

Vaan stepped back with a grin at the end of the bout. “Not bad for a desk-bound healer.” He panted. “Though I think I detected a bit of rust there at the end.”

S’aad arched an eyebrow. “Rust? I was letting you catch your breath, old man. Wouldn’t want you to strain something at your advanced age.”

“Advanced age?” Vaan snorted. “I’m six months younger than you are!”

Their banter was interrupted as another group of warriors entered the hall. S’aad’s gaze landed on a familiar face, and he turned with a groan.

“Speaking of eager suitors,” S’aad muttered, jerking his chin toward the arriving warriors. “M’lak there is our resident mate program enthusiast.”

The others followed his gaze, watching the new group. Even from across the hall, it was clear the topic was, once again, the mate program.

K’rat shook his head. “He’s in one of my duty groups. He’s an utter pain in the ass. Relentless to boot. I’ll bet he’ll wear a path in the floor between here and your offices at this rate.”

“But can you blame him?” Zell asked, rubbing sweat from his neck with a small towel. “We all feel that pull, that need to find our other halves. Perhaps he expresses it more openly than most.”

S’aad sighed. “Indeed he does. But none of you better decide to copy him. I have enough work fending off lovesick warriors all day without you draanthic adding to that.”

“Lovesick warriors?” Vaan snorted. “Is that what they’re calling unmated males these days?”

“Only the particularly persistent ones. Alright, enough chatter,” S’aad said, moving back to the center of the mat. “We came here to train. Did we not? Who’s ready for a real challenge?”

K’rat’s eyes narrowed. “What did you have in mind?”

S’aad’s grin turned predatory. “Three on one. You lot against me. Unless you’re afraid you can’t handle it?”

For a moment, his friends exchanged glances, silently communicating. Then, as one, they moved to surround him, their stances shifting into combat readiness.

“Afraid?” Vaan scoffed. “Hardly. Just worried about bruising that delicate healer’s hide of yours.”

“Less talking, more fighting,” S’aad shot back, his body coiled like a spring. “Unless you need more time to catch your breath?”

With a collective growl, the three warriors launched their attack. S’aad moved like lightning, ducking and weaving between his opponents with an almost unnatural speed. He caught Zell’s practice blade on his own, deflecting it into K’rat’s path and forcing the other warrior to adjust his strike mid-swing. Dropping low in the same fluid motion, he swept Vaan’s legs from under him.

But none of them were new at combat. Vaan turned his fall into a roll, coming up behind S’aad with deadly intent while K’rat and Zell worked together, their blades a whirlwind of motion as they sought to overwhelm S’aad.

For several minutes, the outcome hung in the balance. S’aad’s speed and agility worked in his favor, but he couldn’t land any decisive blows of his own. His friends worked together, covering each other’s blind spots and pressing their advantage to try and bring him down.

Then he spotted an opening and surged forward, disarming Zell with a twist of his blade. In the split second the younger warrior was vulnerable, S’aad struck, landing a hit that would have been crippling had he not pulled it at the last moment.

Zell froze and then groaned as he stepped back out of the circle. “I’m out.”

Down to two opponents now, S’aad grinned and went on the offensive. His strikes were faster and more aggressive as he forced K’rat and Vaan back step by step. They made him work for it though, forcing him to cover his ass.

In the end, a feint decided the match. S’aad telegraphed a high strike against Vaan, drawing K’rat in to cover his friend’s exposed flank. At the last moment, S’aad feinted and ducked under K’rat’s guard to land a solid uppercut to his jaw. Surprise widened his eyes as he staggered backward, almost felled by the heavy strike. Before Vaan could react to his friend crashing out of the circle, S’aad was there, his practice blade pushed up in the big warrior’s throat.

The moment stretched out between them, the potential of violence hanging in the air for a long second.

Then Vaan suddenly grinned and the tension drained out of the moment. “Well fought, brother! It seems desk work hasn’t dulled your edge after all.”

“As if I’d let it.” S’aad grinned, lowering his blade as he stepped back. “Someone has to keep you three in line.”

“Looks like you’ve got an audience,” Zell informed them, nodding at something behind them.

S’aad turned to find that nearly every warrior in the training hall had stopped to watch their match, including M’lak and his group.

“Impressive display, V’Renn. Glad to see the healer’s hall isn’t letting the side down.” The warrior’s expression was one of grudging admiration as he approached. He wore his clan’s leathers and had a small collection of honor beads woven through his hair. S’aad resisted the urge to release his hair from the tie at the nape of his neck. His collection put M’lak’s to shame.

S’aad inclined his head. “I daresay any warrior here could put on a similar show. It’s what we’re here for, after all.”

M’lak’s lips quirked in a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They remained hard and flat.

“Indeed we are. Though some of us seem to have more success in certain arenas than others.” His gaze flicked meaningfully toward the exit in the direction of the LMP offices.

S’aad’s expression didn’t alter. He wasn’t supposed to show favoritism to any of the warriors, but there was just something about M’lak he didn’t like. “The right match will come in time. For all of us.”

M’lak held his gaze for a moment longer before nodding. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to keep.”

As M’lak turned to leave, Vaan leaned in close. “Wanna to lay bets on how often he shows up at your office this week?” he murmured.

S’aad chuckled. “Probably far more than I want. Right, I stink, and so do you lot. Time to hit the showers.”