Page 24 of Alien Engineer's Mate

“Lack of sleep,” Maax said, rolling his shoulder. “I’ll be fine after some coffee.”

“Oh god, coffee.” Aaran moaned somewhere behind him. “The two blessings humanity has bestowed on us: females and coffee!”

Maax’s wrist communicator chimed, the sound cutting sharp and clear through the hall's usual morning acoustics. The particular pattern of tones drew his attention instantly; it was the mate program's priority channel. His heart lurched against his ribs as he lifted his wrist.

The message scrolling across his bracer's screen made his breath catch:

MATCH IDENTIFIED - REPORT TO LMP OFFICE IMMEDIATELY

A flashing indicator showed the message had been sent to his engineering office first, then forwarded here when he didn't respond. They'd found him a match. After monthsof registration, evaluations, and waiting... they'd identified a compatible match for him.

V’Ash noticed his sudden stillness and glanced down at the message. His eyes widened before a grin split his face. "Brothers! Our lead engineer has been matched!"

The announcement rang through the hall. Warriors who had been sparring moments before lowered their weapons, turning toward Maax with expressions of keen interest. The mate program was a subject of intense fascination among the unmated males, especially those still waiting for their own matches.

"Already?" Aaran called out, bouncing on his feet. "That was fast! Do you know who?"

"He has to report to find out,draanthic,” V’Ash answered before Maax could speak. "Let's hope it's someone who can handle his overprotectiveness.”

"I am not overprotective," Maax growled as heat crept up his neck. "I simply ensure proper safety protocols are followed."

"Is that what we're calling your healing bay meltdown now?"

Kaan's voice cut through the growing chorus of good-natured teasing. "Enough! Maax, go. Your potential mate awaits. The rest of you, back to training! You fight like cubs fresh from the nursery! In fact, I’m sure I’d find the human offspring in there easier to train. Now back to training!!”

Maax nodded and strode toward the door, his heart thundering against his ribs. The program's matching algorithms were thorough - they wouldn't match him with someone unsuitable, someone who couldn't accept Emily...

Please, let it be Eira. Not Aisha. Please.

8

The scent of coffee hit Eira before she even entered the LMP orientation room. It smelled like real coffee—rich and complex, not the synthetic stuff they’d rationed on the colony. Her steps faltered in the doorway as memories washed over her: James bringing her precious cups of the real thing after double shifts, saving his credits for months just to see her smile.

She forced her feet forward. The orientation room stretched before her, all gleaming surfaces and subtle lighting that made everything look soft and expensive. Women were already settling into the horseshoe of chairs, their quiet conversations not detracting from the tranquility of the room. The fabric of her new station-issued clothing whispered against her skin as she moved, strange after years of rough mining gear.

“Help yourself,” a woman gestured to the drink station, her LMP uniform crisp and pristine. “We’ve got about ten minutes before we start.”

She nodded her thanks and headed that way. Her hands trembled a little as she lifted a ceramic mug. The warmth bled into her fingers as she added a splash of cream, watching it spiralthrough the dark liquid. Such a simple thing, but her throat tightened. When was the last time she’d had real cream? Before Kyle got sick, before the corporate takeover, before...

“First day?”

She turned with a start, nearly sloshing the precious coffee. A woman with silver-streaked hair smiled at her.

“I’m Vivian. Come sit down, you look like you could use a friendly face.”

The chairs were padded, and she sank into one in relief. “I’m Eira,” she managed, taking a careful sip. The rich flavor bloomed across her tongue. “And yes, first day.”

“Colony girl?” Another woman leaned in, her perfectly styled hair marking her as station-born. “I can always tell. You have that look—as if everything here is too clean, too bright.”

“Horizon P-8742,” Eira admitted.

Vivian’s eyes widened. “One of the outer systems colonies? We’ve had several women from that way on lately. Things must be getting worse.”

Eira’s fingers tightened around her mug. “Yeah. You could say that.”

More women filtered in, their clothing ranging from practical to fashionable, but all of it was pristine. Eira smoothed her hand over her own outfit again, the fabric cool and slick beneath her callused palm. She’d scrubbed her hands raw this morning and slathered them in moisturizer, but years of mining work had left their mark. It would take time for the skin to soften.

A woman moved to the front, her movements precise and practiced. “Good morning, ladies. I’m Madeline Lyman, and I’ll be guiding you through your orientation to the Latharian Mate Program.” The display screen behind her shimmered to life. “Let’s start with the basics of how our matching process works.”

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