Page 34 of Alien Engineer's Mate

"Aisha was never a potential mate for me." Maax kept his voice level despite the anger building in his chest. "The program's protocols are clear?—"

"The protocols?" N'val spat. "She made her interest obvious. And now you cast her aside for some colony female with three children in tow?"

Maax took a step forward, every warrior instinct screaming for violence, but he forced his voice to remain steady. "Choose your next words carefully, warrior."

"Or what?" N'val's shoulders bunched with tension. "You'll demonstrate more of your supposed combat prowess? We all know your victories came from engineering tricks rather than true warrior skill."

Silence fell across the training hall. Even the most junior warriors knew questioning another's combat honors was a line not many dared to cross. V'Ash started to move forward, but Maax's arm shot out, blocking his path.

"Do you want to test that theory? Because I am. All. In." Maax rumbled dangerously. "Or would you prefer to apologize for insulting my match and her children?"

Uncertainty flickered across N'val's face for a moment. But frustration won out over wisdom. "I think?—"

"You think nothing," Maax cut him off. "You speak from bitterness and envy, questioning honors you have not earned and a matching process you barely understand." He stepped closer, using his height to full advantage. "But worst of all, you insult children. Are you so lost that you would mock innocent offspring?"

N'val's cheeks flushed. Several warriors had drifted closer, their expressions hard as they waited for his response. Questioning combat honors was one thing, but disparaging children violated something fundamental to their very nature.

"I..." N'val's jaw worked for a moment before he stiffened. "I challenge you to prove your worth in combat."

A gasp swept through the gathered warriors. Maax felt rather than saw V'Ash and Aaran exchange worried glances. They knew what N'val didn't—that Maax's combat honors hadn't come from engineering tricks.

"Very well." Maax stepped back, rolling his shoulders to loosen them. "First blood or yield."

The training circle widened as warriors moved to give them space. N'val dropped into an aggressive stance, his youth and frustration evident in every tense line of his body. Maax waited, center of gravity low, position perfect.

N'val struck first, as Maax knew he would. The younger warrior's attack came fast and brutal—a combination that would have laid out a less experienced opponent. But Maax had earned his honors against enemies who didn't play by any rules.

He moved like lightning, deflecting N'val's strikes with an economy of motion that made the younger warrior look clumsy. Each attack met empty air or precisely positioned blocks designed to drain N'val's energy.

"You fight like you speak," Maax said as they circled. "All passion, no control."

N'val snarled and launched another assault. This time Maax didn't just deflect—he countered. His first strike slipped past N'val's guard as if it didn't exist. The second followed before the younger warrior could recover. The third put N'val on the mat, the breath driven from his lungs.

"Your match will come." Maax stood over him. "But not if you let bitterness poison you."

He extended his hand. For a long moment, N'val just stared at it, chest heaving. Then, slowly, he reached up and clasped Maax's forearm.

"I..." N'val swallowed hard as Maax pulled him to his feet. "I apologize for my words about your match and her children. They were unworthy of a warrior."

Maax nodded once, accepting the apology. "When I first came to the station," he said, pitching his voice so the gathered warriors could hear, "I had no thought of finding a match. My focus was engineering, combat, duty. But the algorithms know what they do. Trust in them. Trust in your own worth."

"And perhaps," V'Ash added dryly, "spend less time comparing your path to others and more time preparing to be worthy of your own match when they arrive."

"I would be honored," N'val said formally, "if you would show me that combination you just used. I've never seen anything like it."

The tension in the training hall broke. Warriors called out questions about the technique, moving to pair up and practice. N'val's challenge transformed into a training session, with Maax and his friends demonstrating the moves that had proven so effective.

"You see," Maax explained, guiding N'val through the counter-strike sequence, "the key is to?—"

His wrist bracer chimed again. But this time, it was a cascade failure alert. The readout made his blood run cold. Powerfluctuations were spreading through the medical bay's auxiliary systems, threatening the critical care units.

"Draanth." He straightened, already calculating failure vectors in his head. "I need to go."

"Go." V'Ash clasped his shoulder. "We'll finish up here."

"Though don't think we're done discussing your courtship," Aaran called after him as Maax headed for the door. "I want to hear more about this kiss that's got you walking into basic strikes!"

"Perhaps he'll actually land a hit on someone tomorrow," another warrior suggested, "instead of mooning over his mate like a love-struck adolescent."

---