CHAPTER ONE THE ALIEN WHO RAN
ROWAN
An eight-foot alien predator ran away from me. Everyone at the outpost insisted this was not technically what happened. They were wrong.
"Shaarr returned to western territory," Juno said.
"Without finishing his exam."
"Correct."
"After snapping a table."
"Also correct."
"Because I touched his face."
Juno adjusted Renn against his chest. The baby opened one primary eye, considered me, then closed it again.
"That sequence is accurate."
"Then he ran."
"He withdrew."
"That's running with cultural pride attached."
Juno's mouth twitched. He hid it badly. The southern outpost had been designed as proof humans and Hunt-Born could build something together.
One side looked like a field hospital. The other looked like a tree had grown architecture on purpose.
The seam between them ran directly beneath my boots. Subtle.
The treaty committee probably loved it. I sat on the edge of a diagnostic bench. My neural-interface scar had begun aching. Damp weather did that.
So did stress. Apparently alien reproductive compatibility qualified as stress.
"Explain the medical problem," I said.
Juno's expression changed.
"No existential discussion?"
"No."
"No curiosity about the bond?"
"No."
"Mating ritual?"
"Definitely no."
"Pregnancy?"
I looked at him. He raised one hand.
"All right."
"What happens to Shaarr if he stays away?"
That brought the scientist back.
"Early receptor activation usually creates increasing pressure toward proximity."
"Pressure meaning?"
"Pain. Sleep disruption. sensory instability. aggression in some cases."
"Loss of control?"
"Not automatically."
"Automatically is doing work in that sentence."
"It is."
I rubbed the scar beneath my neck.
"Can it kill him?"
"Not directly."
"People should stop using that phrase."
"I agree."
"What about me?"
"At this stage, probably much less."
"Probably."
"Human-Hunt-Born compatibility data consists primarily of me."
"One case."
"Yes."
"Useful."
"Not particularly."
Renn made a quiet clicking noise. Juno looked down immediately. The movement was unconscious. Father before researcher.
Good. I liked him better that way.
"If Shaarr does nothing," I said, "what happens?"
"Unknown."
"That's honest."
"I learned."
"From him?"
"Among others."
I glanced toward the open platform. The forest outside looked wet enough to drown in standing up. No sign of Shaarr. Good.
It should have felt good. Instead, there was an odd absence beneath my ribs. Not pain. More like my body had started listening for something without consulting me first. I ignored it.
"What are people going to expect from me?"
Juno's brow furrowed.
"People?"
"Hunt-Born. Staff. Treaty council. Anyone who sees your senior western guardian in pain and discovers I'm the biological off switch."
"You are not an off switch."
"Close enough."
"No."
His answer sharpened. Good.
"I won't allow anyone to treat you as one."
"Allow?"
Juno sighed.
"Bad wording."
"Very."
"You understand what I mean."
"I do."
The fact that he corrected himself mattered. I hated that I noticed. Juno sat opposite me.
"Compatibility isn't consent."
"I know."
"Neither is receptor pain."
"Good."
"And no mating, permanent marking, or reproductive adaptation happens simply because Shaarr is suffering."
"Better."
"You look disappointed."
"I was hoping for a fight."
"I've had this fight."
With Vorrn. I knew enough of their story to understand that. Not details. I had deliberately avoided details. Some people's romance did not need to become mandatory workplace reading.
"So nobody expects me to fix him."
"No."
"And if they do?"
"You tell me."
"I can tell them."
"Fair."
I stood. My shoulder clicked. Juno heard it.
"Arad should examine that."
"No."
"You sound like Shaarr."
"Don't insult me."
The baby opened all four eyes this time. I stared. Renn stared back. Tiny lateral pupils shifted independently.
"Still unsettling."
"He's beautiful."
"Both things can be true."
Juno smiled. I moved toward the equipment lockers. Then I saw the scar again. Not Shaarr's actual face.
Memory. Smoke. A targeting display. Pale armor.
Blue-white discharge. My right arm rising while I screamed inside my own skull for it to stop. I gripped the locker handle. Cold metal.
Present. Here. No armor. No command layer.
My hand belonged to me. I flexed the fingers. Once. Twice.
"Rowan?"
Juno was watching.
"I'm all right."
He did not believe me. He also did not press. Another reason I tolerated him. I pulled my field jacket from the locker.
"Does Shaarr's medical file stay open?"
"Yes."
"If he returns, I finish the exam."
Juno studied me.
"You want to?"
"I'm assigned medical-security liaison."
"That's not what I asked."
I zipped the jacket.
"It's the answer you're getting."
Fair was fair. I headed for the corridor. Behind me, Juno said, "He isn't disgusted by you." I stopped.
That irritated me more than it should have.
"I didn't ask."
"No."
"Then don't explain his feelings to me."
"You're right."
Good. I continued walking. At the door, I looked back once.
"How long before the receptor pain gets bad?"
Juno hesitated.
"Could be days."
I nodded. Then left. Not because I cared about being his mate. Not because biology had decided something romantic. Because pain was pain.
And unfortunately, I was still a medic.