Page 1 of A Cyborg for the Alien Mercenary

PROLOGUE

Previously on the Lady’s Dream…

“So, let me get this right,”Covak rumbled, his arms corded with muscle folded over his chest. “We’re heading into the middle of human territory to track down a human because another human asked us to?”

Ryke, the leader of the Reaper mercenary unit, shook his head. “No. We’re heading into human territory to track down an alien because theWarborneasked us to.”

Covak’s eyebrow winged up, and he rumbled in disapproval in the back of his throat. Since Ryke and the other crew in theDream’slounge weren’t Vorrtan, they couldn’t hear all of the sound, which would have clued them in to just how much he disliked this idea.

“Since when do we do what the Warborne tell us to?”

“Since the alien we’re tracking down is a female.”

Covak blinked. “Female?” he asked, trying to conceal his interest.

Even though his species still had women, unlike most with any links to Latharian DNA, they were rare and highlyaggressive. Off planet he was feared and respected. Back home… he’d have ended up in some warlady’s harem.

“Yup. Tell… put it on screen,” Ryke ordered.

The lone human on the crew moved, tapping the ever-present access console pad in his hand, and the holo-screen in the middle of the lounge flicked on.

“This is our target…” Tell said, his speech clipped and professional. Covak still couldn’t believe he was one of these humans. He definitely smelled more Latharian.

His attention flicked to the screen, and he stopped breathing. A woman lay on a bed, her hair spread over the pillow. She was asleep, or looked to be, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

She was stunningly beautiful, and he growled, his teeth aching as they dropped lower into his mouth.

“We’re going,” he announced, turning to find Ryke watching him with a smirk. “What? Like you said, she’s female. And the Warborne asked us to. Don’t want to piss off our new friends, now do we?”

Ryke chuckled. “Indeed, we do not. Okay, let’s lock and load. We’re going on a road trip.”

Covak didn’t move as the rest of the crew filed out, his gaze riveted to the woman on the screen. When he was alone, he took a step forward, lifting a hand to stroke a clawed finger over the air where her cheek was. The pixels of the image distorted for a moment but then resettled into place.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured. “Don’t worry. I’m coming for you.”

1

Covak hefted the last crate of medical supplies from the grav-sled and balanced it on his shoulders with a grunt. The hiss of the grav-sled’s engines lifting it from the ground as it headed off for another load was drowned out by the general sounds of the dock and the multitude of ships around them loading and unloading. Making sure that the crate was secure on his broad shoulder, he walked the short distance across the deck to theLady’s Dream.

Dock workers had gathered in a group, leaning on crates nearby as they chattered away. Gossiping, as usual. Covak had never hit a dock yet where gossip wasn’t the main currency when it came to getting shit done.

They kept their voices low, assuming the dock’s activity would mean no one could hear them. He bit back his grin. On that, they would be dead wrong. They hadn’t accounted for Vorrtan hearing, which was much more acute than any other species out there… and it had gotten the Reapers out of a hole more than once.

“You see that ship over there?” one of them said, shooting a glance toward theDream. “It’s one of them mercenaryships. Marge from traffic control told me… said it’s either the Warborne or maybe even the Blood Core.”

“Nah, you’re way off,” one of the others said with a shrug. “That ain’t the Warborne. There ain’t no females with them. My bet’s on the Blood Core for sure.”

“You’m both wrong.” Another dock hand strolled up and leaned against a crate. Covak was beginning to feel like loading had just become a spectator sport. “That there’s the Reapers. Wait until the other one comes out. E’s got them freaky lines under his skin like the B’Kaar, which means them’s the Reapers.”

Covak chuckled as he reached the top of the ramp. Someone give that man a medal. Hearing heavy footsteps, he stepped to the side just as Anson ducked out of the hold in the power loader. His grin grew a little wider at the telltale glow ofke’lathunder his teammate’s skin.

Seeing someone operate the wearable power loader wasn’t unusual. He could see at least five of them on the loading bay doing the same thing. But none of them moved quite the same way Anson did. The tall B’Kaar handled the power loader like it was part of him.

He had none of the clunkiness in his movements like the others—that little stop-start as the operators had to think about each movement or where to move the power loader to lift correctly and stop the thing from toppling over. Which did happen on occasion. When it did, the things looked like upturned turtles, flailing around until they could power up other loaders to haul them upright. It generally gathered a crowd laughing at the poor unfortunate who had gone over.

Covak doubted that Anson had ever fallen over in a power loader. The machine responded like it was part of him, his hands resting on the controls rather than operating them. Because of the technology that laced his body and caused the lines underhis skin, Anson said he didn’t register the machine as a separate entity. It was just part of him, in the same way an imperial B’Kaar’s kasivar was.

Covak stayed to the side, turning to watch as Anson clunked down the ramp and headed to the ammunition crates. He turned the loading arms with a precise movement and slid them under the cases that held the massive shells and missiles used by the ship’s weaponry systems. The hydraulics in the machine whirred as he lifted smoothly, turning back to head up the ramp.

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