Page 30 of Alien Mercenary's Wife
"T'Raal?" she called as he turned to leave.
"Yeah?" His voice was rougher than he’d heard it before.
"Your quarters really are next door?"
"Yeah. Right next door. Bang on the wall if you need anything."
"Anything?"
Heat flashed through him at the word, his imagination supplying a dozen different meanings before he caught the exhaustion in her posture, the way she leaned against the doorframe for support. Right. Ship emergencies. Not... that.
"Anything," he confirmed, though the words came out rougher than intended.
The door slid shut between them with a soft hiss. T'Raal stood in the corridor for a moment, staring at the closed door. A thin bulkhead. That was all that separated them.
It would have to be enough.
Reese woke up slowly,testing her body before moving. She stretched her left leg under the covers without pain, and the constant ache in her spine was mostly gone.
She sat up carefully, waiting for her nerves to protest. Nothing. The neural stimulator hummed against her spine, and whatever Tal had done worked better than expected.
Standing was easier than it had been in months. Both legs held her weight without the exo-frame, and she flexed her left foot experimentally. Not perfect, but it worked.
The guest quarters looked bigger in the morning lighting. Her backpack sat on the small desk with everything she owned in the galaxy. It should have been depressing, but without the pain, it seemed manageable.
The shower had excellent water pressure, and hot water ran over her shoulders while she stayed longer than necessary. Standing upright without her spine screaming was still new enough to appreciate.
When she got out, the mirror was fogged. She saw the same scars in her reflection, but the permanent tension around her eyes had eased somewhat.
She put on clean clothes from her pack—worn pants and a shirt that had seen better days. Everything looked like thrift store finds, but at least it was clean.
The corridor was quiet as she stepped out, with solid deck plates and no vibration. The Sprite was a good ship, just like T'Raal had said.
The smell of bacon hit her halfway to the galley. It was rich and smoky, with the sound of eggs frying underneath. Her stomach growled loud enough to embarrass her. She hadn't eaten anything real since yesterday morning. Protein bars didn't count.
She followed the smell through corridors that were starting to feel familiar. The galley door was open, and light spilled out, along with the sounds of cooking.
T'Raal stood with his back to her, working over multiple pans. The cooking area stretched along one wall, efficient and organized. Three tables were bolted to the opposite wall and could seat around twenty people. It felt intimate despite being designed for the whole crew.
"Morning," she said, not wanting to startle him.
He looked over his shoulder. "Sleep well?"
"Better than I have in months." She moved closer, drawn by the smells. "What's all this?"
"Full human breakfast." He gestured toward the pans. "Figured you might be hungry."
The spread was impressive. There was bacon in one pan, eggs in another. Sausages and grilled tomatoes, with beans warming in a smaller pot. Toast was waiting in a warmer.
"You know how to cook human food?"
"Eris taught me this one. Says it's traditional human comfort food." T'Raal flipped the bacon with practiced ease. "Tea or coffee?"
"Coffee. Strong, if you have it."
He nodded toward a machine that looked more sophisticated than anything she'd used in months. "Help yourself. Mugs are in the cabinet above."
She poured coffee into a ceramic mug. The brew was strong, with a rich flavor that made her close her eyes. It was real coffee, not the synthetic crap her pension budget allowed.
