Page 5 of Destined For Her Alien Daddy

They are not carved. They are embedded through the stone in layers thinner than hair, each line containing smaller lines, each smaller line containing breaks that might be notation or damage or some third category my field has not invented yet. I raise my gloved hand, stopping just short of contact. The scanner refuses to settle on a date. Numbers scroll, reset, then produce an error code I have never seen outside experimental equipment failures.

“That is rude,” I whisper to the scanner.

A shadow falls over me.

It is not the shadow of a drone, a worker, or Merrow finally gathering the nerve to drag me back by my collar. It is much too large for that. It covers the wall, the ground, and me in one broad stroke, as if a section of night has decided to stand upright.

“You are in a restricted instability zone,” a deep voice says behind me. “Move back through the gate.”

I turn slowly.

The Vakutan standing between me and the rest of the dig site is enormous even by the standards of a species famous for making doorways feel inadequate. He has to be seven and a half feet tall, maybe more in the heavy security armor fitted over his shoulders and chest. Dark iron-red scales cover his face and throat, interrupted by black ridge markings along his jaw and the sides of his neck. Old scars cross his exposed skin in pale, uneven lines. His golden eyes study me with the calm focus of a targeting system that has developed opinions.

I hate that my first reaction is not fear.

It should be fear. Fear would be reasonable. He looks like he could tear the hazard gate out of the ground, fold it into a chair, and make Merrow sit in it until he learned humility. But what hits me first is awareness, sharp and unwelcome, traveling from the base of my spine to the back of my throat.

I lift my chin. “You must be security.”

“I am Ghar Vek’Talan.”

“Fantastic. I’m busy.”

“You are trespassing.”

“I am observing.”

“You crossed a locked hazard boundary.”

“It was not locked. It was judgmental.”

His expression does not change, which irritates me more than anger would have. “The western fracture zone has suffered two collapses in six days. You will return to the cleared path.”

“I need thirty seconds.”

“You have none.”

“That wall contains non-Precursor symbolic architecture embedded at a molecular depth that should be impossible with known League, Alliance, or Coalition tools.”

“Yes.”

I pause despite myself. “Yes?”

“Yes, it is important. No, that does not make you immune to being crushed under eight thousand tons of unstable basalt.”

Behind him, Teren appears at the gate with both hands lifted in a helpless little gesture. Brakk stands beside him, looking entertained. Merrow hovers farther back, visibly thrilled that someone larger and meaner has taken over telling me no.

I point my scanner at the wall again. “If you know it’s important, then you know why interrupting me is stupid.”

Ghar takes one step forward. The ground seems to resent supporting him but does so out of self-preservation. “If you die in the first hour, your academic contributions will be limited.”

“Wow. Another overpaid security brute with a gift for inspirational speeches.”

Teren makes a pained noise. “Oh, that’s not⁠—”

Ghar’s eyes narrow slightly. It is the first visible change in him, and it is annoyingly satisfying.

“You think I am here to interfere with your brilliance,” he says.