Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The argument she’d been dreading never materialized.
Alina had spent half the night—the half not occupied with far more pleasant activities—mentally rehearsing her explanation.
She’d prepared logical points about why Rhyx couldn’t come with her, why approaching the cyborgs required a delicate touch, why his presence would terrify anyone she spoke to before she could explain.
Instead, when she’d outlined her plan in the pale morning light, Rhyx had simply nodded.
“I will follow,” he said. “At a distance. You won’t see me.”
“Rhyx, I really don’t think—”
“You go to ask for help from beings who may be connected to what I am.” His blue eyes—those impossible, slitted pupils that should have been terrifying but only made her heart race—held hers steadily. “If they are dangerous, I will be there. If they are not, you can signal me.”
“Signal you how?”
A hint of a smile curved his lips. “I will know.”
She wanted to argue. Every rational part of her brain screamed that bringing a seven-foot golden alien anywhere near other people was a catastrophically bad idea.
But there was something in his expression—a quiet certainty, an absolute refusal to let her face potential danger alone—that made the words die in her throat.
He’s learning, she realized. Learning when to push and when to compromise.
“Fine,” she heard herself say. “But you stay hidden until I give you a sign. And for the love of everything holy, put on some pants.”
The look of genuine confusion that crossed his face at that last request had almost made her late.
Now, as her rover bounced across the rocky terrain towards Jeb and Mattie’s claim, Alina found herself glancing at the side mirrors more often than strictly necessary.
She couldn’t see Rhyx—he’d been true to his word about that—but knowing he was out there somewhere, following her, made the tightness in her chest ease slightly.
You’re bringing an unknown alien species to meet a cyborg, the scientist part of her brain pointed out. This could go very, very wrong.
The other part of her brain—the part that had spent the night tangled up with said alien species—told the scientist to shut up.
Jeb and Mattie’s claim sat in a shallow valley between two red-rock ridges, their habitat dome a silver bubble against the rust-colored landscape.
Unlike the larger research stations, independent claims like this one were modest affairs: a living quarters, a processing facility for whatever minerals the claim holder was mining, and the inevitable tangle of solar panels and communication arrays that kept everything running.
Mattie had been a miner’s daughter back on Earth, or so Cass had told her.
One of the rough-and-tumble types who’d grown up knowing the feel of rock dust in her lungs and the weight of a pickaxe in her hands.
She’d come to Mars to get away from a bad situation—Cass had been vague on the details—and had somehow ended up claimed by a cyborg who’d been working security for one of the mining corporations.
Claimed. Alina turned the word over in her mind. It was what the cyborgs called their mating bonds, and until a few weeks ago, she’d found it vaguely unsettling. Now, with the memory of Rhyx’s voice growling mine against her skin, she understood it in a way she hadn’t before.
The rover crunched to a halt outside the habitat’s main airlock. Alina took a breath, checked her reflection in the rearview mirror—professional, Falkner, try to look professional—and climbed out.
The airlock cycled open before she could reach for the comm panel.
Mattie stood in the doorway, a small woman with green eyes and unruly brown curls, she looked too delicate for the hard life of a miner. Her expression was neither welcoming nor hostile—more like the carefully neutral look of someone assessing a potential threat.
“Dr. Falkner.” Not a question. “Cass said you might be stopping by.”
Of course she did. Alina made a mental note to have words with her friend about giving advance warning without checking first.
“I hope I’m not intruding. I wanted to talk to you and Jeb about something… sensitive.”
Mattie’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Sensitive how?”
“The kind of sensitive that could change everything we think we know about Mars. And possibly about cyborg technology.”
A long pause. Then Mattie stepped back from the doorway.
“Better come inside, then.”
The interior of the habitat was surprisingly cozy—Alina had expected the utilitarian efficiency of most mining operations, but Mattie had clearly worked to make the space a home.
Colorful fabric hangings covered the curved walls, and actual plants—not the sterile hydroponics of the research stations, but proper potted plants with soil and everything—lined the small kitchen area.
Jeb was sitting at the central table, and Alina had to force herself not to stare.
She’d seen cyborgs before, of course. Anyone who’d been on Mars for more than a few months had. But they were usually glimpsed at a distance, or in the impersonal context of supply runs and security checkpoints. Up close, the blend of human and machine was… disconcerting.
Jeb looked human enough at first glance—a big man with broad shoulders and close-cropped dark hair, features that might have been handsome in a rough-hewn way.
But the light caught the faint metallic sheen where synthetic skin met organic, and his eyes had that subtle brightness that came from enhanced optics.
“Dr. Falkner.” His voice was deeper than she’d expected, with a slight mechanical undertone. “My mate said you had something sensitive to discuss.”
“I—yes.” Alina lowered herself into the chair Mattie indicated, trying to organize her thoughts. “I’m not sure where to start.”
“Start with what brought you out here,” Mattie suggested, sliding into the seat beside Jeb. “You’re a geochemist, right? Something to do with research?”
“Technically, yes. But what I found—what I need to tell you about—it goes beyond my field. Beyond any field, really.”
She took a breath.
“A few weeks ago, I picked up some unusual readings. Biochemical signatures that shouldn’t exist. During the dust storm, I went to investigate, and I found something in the mountains. A cave system.”
Jeb and Mattie exchanged a glance—so quick Alina almost missed it.
“A cave system,” Jeb repeated. “In this region.”
“Deep in the mountains. Accessible through a lava tube.” Alina leaned forward, watching their faces. “The thing is, it’s not just a cave. It’s a complete ecosystem. Living plants, breathable atmosphere, water sources—an entire self-contained biome that shouldn’t be possible.”
She’d expected skepticism. Disbelief. Maybe even concern for her mental state. What she got instead was another one of those quick glances between the couple, loaded with meaning she couldn’t decipher.
“You’ve seen it,” she said slowly. “Haven’t you?”
Mattie’s jaw tightened. Jeb’s hand moved to cover hers on the table.
“What makes you say that?” he asked.
“Because you’re not surprised. I just told you there’s a living ecosystem hidden under the Martian surface, something that contradicts everything we think we know about this planet, and you’re looking at me like I’m telling you water is wet.”
Silence stretched between them. Alina could hear the soft hum of the habitat’s life support systems, the distant whir of the solar tracking arrays adjusting to the climbing sun.
Finally, Mattie let out a long breath.
“A year ago,” she said. “I had some trouble with my claim. Someone wanted my claim, and they weren’t particular about how they got it.”
“They came with weapons,” Jeb added. “More than we could handle. We had to hide in the tunnels.”
“We knew the region pretty well—we’d done some prospecting out that way before we settled here.
There was a lava tube we’d used for shelter once before, nothing special, just a place to wait out a storm.
” Mattie’s fingers tightened around Jeb’s.
“But that time, when we went deeper… we found the cavern.”
“You found—” Alina’s heart was racing. “You found the ecosystem? The plants, the—”
“We weren’t in any shape to appreciate it,” Jeb said quietly. “I’d taken some damage in the fighting. Bad damage. Mattie had to practically carry me down there.”
“He was dying.” Mattie’s voice was flat, controlled, but Alina could hear the echo of old terror underneath. “The nanites in his system were trying to repair the damage, but there was too much of it. His power reserves were almost depleted. I thought—I thought I was going to lose him.”
“What happened?”
Another shared glance. Something complicated passed between them—a conversation held entirely in looks and micro-expressions.
“I don’t remember much,” Jeb admitted. “I was in and out of consciousness. But when I woke up—really woke up, clear-headed—the damage was repaired. More than repaired. My systems were running better than they had in years.”
“We never understood it,” Mattie said. “We had to block it to escape the claim jumpers. We talked about going back, investigating, but… it felt like something we weren’t supposed to share. Something sacred, almost. And then the claim trouble blew over, and life got busy, and…”
“You kept it secret.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
Alina thought about the past few weeks. About the lies she’d told, the secrets she’d kept, the careful dance of misdirection she’d been performing to keep Martin and everyone else away from what she’d found.
“Yes,” she said. “I would. I have.”
Mattie’s eyes sharpened. “There’s more, isn’t there? Something else you found down there.”
“Something connected to Jeb’s healing. To his blood—his nanites.” Alina’s mouth had gone dry. “When you were injured, when you were bleeding—did any of it get into the environment? Into the plants, the soil, anything that might have been… absorbing it?”