Page 6 of Alien Protector's Mate

Maax’s eyebrow winged up. “You do realize that B’Kaar trall doesn’t work that way? She might have been B’Kaar but no one in my line has qualified forke’lathsince.”

He inclined his head. “Yeah, I know. But I figured that even so, you’re also an engineer. You might see something I’m missing here.”

The big engineer nodded. “If that’s the case, of course. Send me what you’ve found, and I’ll take a look right away. I’m assuming you want this to stay between us for now?”

“Please.” S’aad nodded as he prepared everything he had. “I want to understand what we’re dealing with before we raise any alarms. Sending you a datapacket now.”

“Agreed,” Maax said. A soft chime as his console signaled he’d received the information S’aad had just bundled for him. “I’ll contact you as soon as I’ve analyzed the data.”

She hatedbleach and every other cleaning product on the planet with the passion of a thousand fiery suns.

The pungent smell stung Jade’s nostrils, making her hands smart as she scrubbed the grimy bathroom tiles. Her knees ached, and sweat trickled down her back, dampening her threadbare T-shirt as she cleaned. The harsh chemical scent mingled with an underlying funk she’d never been able to scrub from the tiny, windowless room, creating a suffocating stench that caught at her breath and made her head spin.

She stopped for a second and sat back on her heels, pushing a damp strand from her face as she looked around the bathroom, checking for anything that would get her into trouble with herfoster mother. Movement caught her eye, and she looked at her reflection in the cracked mirror by the door. A round-faced girl with tired brown eyes wearing baggy, ill-fitting clothes to cover curves no amount of “dieting” ever got rid of. Although the diets Mrs. Morgan put her on were a joke. They were just excuses to cut down what they spent on feeding her even more.

The sound of heels clicking on the worn linoleum floor made her heart rate spike. She scrambled to resume scrubbing, her movements frantic as her foster mother appeared in the doorway.

“Are you still not finished?” Mrs. Morgan’s shrill demand made Jade wince and fight the urge to hunch her shoulders. “I swear, you get slower and lazier every day. It’s no wonder you’re so fat… you’re an ungrateful bitch, and you probably sneak food when we’re not looking.”

Jade kept her eyes down, focusing on a particularly stubborn stain. She knew not to reply unless prompted.

“Well? I’m talking to you, girl. Are you deaf as well as stupid?” Mrs. Morgan snapped.

“No, ma’am,” Jade replied in a soft voice, giving the tiles a last swipe. “I’m almost done. I just wanted to make sure it was perfect.”

Mrs. Morgan scoffed, her arms folded over her narrow chest. “Perfect? As ifyoucould ever do anything perfectly. I’m surprised you didn’t manage to fuck it up. Hurry up and finish. I want the kitchen done before you start dinner.”

She pushed off from the door and stalked off down the corridor like a vulture looking for its next victim. As her footsteps faded, Jade closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. The backs of her eyes burned with the tears that wanted to fall, but she knew better than to let them. Really, what would be the point? No one here would care.

A memory surfaced unbidden… of her crying in this same bathroom after one of Mrs. Morgan’s beatings for something trivial, like putting the salt shaker on the left of the pepper instead of the right, and Jared, her twin, comforting her.

“Don’t listen to her, Jade,” he’d said, his small arms wrapped tightly around her. They were twins, but he’d always been much smaller than her and always ill. “You’re the best sister ever. We’ll always have each other.”

The ache of loss hit her like a punch to the gut. Jared had been gone for so long now that she could barely remember the sound of his voice, but the pain of losing him had never faded. Gathering up her cleaning stuff, she shoved the memory down, hard. Thinking about the past wouldn’t change anything. She had to keep moving, keep working, keep surviving.

Somehow.

Cleaning bucket in hand, she moved on to the kitchen, cleaning it quickly before pulling out the ingredients for her foster parents’ evening meal. The clink of dishes and the sizzle of frying meat filled the air as she prepared dinner, her movements automatic after years of performing the same routine.

Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored it. This food wasn’t for her. Even if the meat was the lowest quality artificial meat and the vegetables were genetic clones and had been force grown in the nearest factory, at least they were food. Not like the tasteless nutri-blocks that Mr. and Mrs. Morgan bought for her. They didn’t even buy her an adult’s weekly ration… no, she had to make a child’s weekly ration last. Ducking down, she looked in the cupboard to see how much she had left and sighed. Two blocks for four days. She’d be going to bed hungry again tonight.

The sound of the front door slamming made her jump, and she almost dropped the plates. Heavy footsteps stumbled down the hall accompanied by muttered curses. Mr. Morgan was home, already, and she wasn’t done yet.

Her heart raced as she set the table quickly. She could hear Mrs. Morgan’s shrill voice from in the living room. “You’re late again! And drunk, as usual. Do you even care about this family at all?”

Mr. Morgan’s slurred response was too low for Jade to make out, but the anger in his tone was clear. She busied herself at the stove, plating up dinner and hoping they didn’t bring their argument into the kitchen.

Those hopes were dashed when they burst through the doorway, still bickering. Jade kept her back turned, plating as quickly as she could before they noticed her.

“I told you I was working late,” her foster father growled. “Someonehas to pay the bills around here.”

Mrs. Morgan laughed, the sound bitter. “Yeah, right…working late at the bottom of a bottle, you mean. We’re barely scraping by, and you waste what little money we have on booze!”

“I gotta have something. You think I like living like this?” Mr. Morgan snapped. “At least I’m trying to do something about it!”

They stopped speaking, the silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. The skin between Jade’s shoulders crawled, and she knew they were looking at her. She hunched her back, wishing she could disappear into the peeling wallpaper.

“And I have,” Mr. Morgan said, his tone suddenly calm. “Get your coat, girl. We’re going out.”

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