Page 62 of Legacy for the Alien Warrior

The medical worker glanced between them, then sighed. “I’ll prepare your discharge documentation. But please, try not to overexert yourself.”

After they left, she turned her attention to Rory. “Honey,” she said softly, “did you see who took Talia?”

Rory didn’t respond verbally, but his fingers stopped their tracing and his body went still.

“Rory,” she tried again, “anything you remember might help us find her.”

He slid off the bed and moved to a small table in the corner where someone had left a datapad. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands before bringing it to Kara.

“I think he wants to draw,” she told Thraxar. “He sometimes communicates better that way.”

Thraxar quickly configured the datapad to a drawing program and handed it back to Rory. The boy took it and began making precise movements with his finger across the screen. They watched in silence as an image slowly took shape.

It wasn’t detailed—Rory was only six—but the figure he drew had a distinctive silhouette. Tall, with an angular head and what appeared to be a uniform of some kind.

“That’s not much to go on,” Kara said, disappointment heavy in her voice.

But Thraxar leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. “The head shape,” he said. “And these markings on the uniform…” He looked at Rory. “Was there more than one person?”

Rory nodded and held up three fingers.

“Three,” Thraxar confirmed. “And did they say anything? Any words you remember?”

Rory’s face scrunched in concentration. He tapped at the datapad again, this time pulling up a text program. His spelling was rudimentary at best, but he managed to type out two words: TALA HOOM.

“Tala hoom?” she repeated, confused.

He went very still. “Not ‘tala hoom,’” he said quietly. “Tala’hom. It’s a dialect word. It means ‘reclamation’ or ‘retrieval.’”

“You recognize the language?”

“Yes.” His expression darkened. “And if I am right about the uniform markings Rory drew, I know who took her.”

She grabbed his arm. “Who?”

“A retrieval unit from Dornax. They specialize in recovering ‘property’ for their clients.”

“Property?” She felt sick. “Talia isn’t property!”

“To them, she is.” His voice was cold with fury. “Wren Dox must have reported her missing. If she belongs to someone with enough money and influence…”

“No.” She shook her head violently, ignoring the pain that lanced through it. “She doesn’t belong to anyone. She’s a child, not a possession.”

“I agree.” A big hand covered hers. “But Dornaxian retrieval units do not make those distinctions. They are hired to do a job, and they are very efficient.”

She pushed herself to her feet, swaying slightly before finding her balance. “Then we need to stop them before they deliver her back to whoever thinks they own her.”

He steadied her with a hand on her elbow. “You need to rest.”

“I will rest when Talia is safe.” She met his eyes, her jaw set. “Tell me your plan.”

For a moment, she thought he might argue. Then his expression shifted, a hint of pride replacing the concern. “The Dornaxians will have a transport ship. Not large—they work in small teams—but fast. They will be heading for the nearest jump point to take her off-world.”

“How do we find them?”

“I already have.” He tapped his wrist device, bringing up a small holographic map. “The security team found residual engine signatures matching a Dornaxian light cruiser. They are following standard protocol—taking an indirect route to the jump point to avoid detection.”

“So we can intercept them?”

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