Page 5 of Married to the Alien Rogue

“Does that mean you don’t want to do it?” Tark teased, knowing my answer.

I gave it to him, anyway. “Frek, no! Of course, we’re rescuing the female. Set a course.”

He grinned in triumph and tapped at the controls while I continued to study our objective.This female might be Tark’s fated mate.

Or even mine.

I shoved the voice aside, unwilling to believe in such foolishness.

If she found a mate among the Zaarn, I sure as frek wouldn’t be lucky enough for it to be me.

By the time we approached the Tula home world, Kirel’s hacking program let us into the entire satellite network and the information net that spanned the major cities.

It did not, however, get us into the computers of Senator Bila’s compound.

A chime came from the cockpit while we ate breakfast. I shoved the last of my meat and vegetable roll into my mouth and stood, waving Tark back into his seat.

He’d only eaten half his food so far, having gotten lost in an engineering problem he worked at on his comp. My friend had spearheaded making one of the very first stealth shuttles we knew of. But it was a tiny craft—the smallest the Daredevils owned—and he wanted to make something larger.

His work was more important than ever. We’d gone from a group of Zaarn mercenaries—each banished from our home world at twenty for not having a fated mate—to Zaarn warriors with females to fight for and a future of hope.

A blue light winked on the comms panel. I sat and opened up the message from Kirel. After swallowing my last bite, I called back to Tark, “It’s a no go on the Senator’s computers. Kirel says he could do it in person, but the security system is too advanced for one of his hacking programs to crack without real-time help.”

Tark came into the cockpit. “Too bad. We’ll just have to find another way.”

I nodded and pulled up the most recent satellite footage of the compound. I’d spent every free hour poring over the data, looking for patterns or weaknesses to exploit.

Fortunately, the satellite systems carried backups that stayed in memory for about a month. I’d been able to watch the compound for several days’ worth of footage from before the Hyoo-mon female arrived to get a feel for its normal daily routine.

Then a Grug shuttle had flown directly to the Senator’s house about a week ago. The gray aliens had finished their business quickly and left, but everything had changed.

Starting the next day, a small group of people left via a door in the compound’s wall and disappeared into the jungle for hours at a time. Even at maximum magnification, I couldn’t tell much about who they were, except for one thing. The top of one of their heads was brown instead of Tula green, and some of the Hyoo-mons had brown hair.

It was her. I knew it. But why did they take her into the jungle each day?

And how could I use it to rescue her?

“I don’t like this plan,” Tark said the next morning. We’d reached Tularia and were slowly descending from orbit, Kirel’s autopilot program holding us on course.

“It’s a good plan,” I growled. “It’syourplan.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one taking all the risk.”

“It’s mine to take. I’m the infiltration expert.” Besides, if I ran into trouble, I’d handle it. Tark was a good fighter. I was better. Half the time he spent in engineering back on theDaredevil, I spent in the training rooms, sparring. He had his strengths, and I had mine.

And one of his strengths was currently strapped to my back. Tark had taken some of the stealth material he’d created and made folding glider wings out of it. He’d been inspired by a recent visit Sul and Mol-Lee had made to Juro, a Sjisji world, where visitors flew with the bird aliens.

“Gliders work best on a low-gravity world like Juro, not a regular gravity one like Tularia. And you’re…” Tark waved a hand up and down my body.

I frowned down at myself. Durable black work pants covered my legs, and I wore my usual work boots. I’d wrapped my tail around my waist and tucked the triangular blue tip into the front of my pants to keep it from being jerked around by wind. “I’m what?”

“You’re not exactly lightweight.”

I grunted. All Zaarn were a good seven feet. And those of us who joined theDaredevilas mercenaries were all combat ready, no matter our second specialty. As someone who fought regularly, I had a fair bit of muscle.

“And you’re carrying a bunch of survival gear.” He tapped at the waterproof pack strapped flat to my chest—a tent, ration bars, a water purifier, clothes, a medkit, my blasters, my comp. It added weight, but these supplies could prove crucial to saving the Hyoo-mon.

“I’ll be fine. Now go fly this thing. Kirel’s autopilot program is good, but I still trust you more.”

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