He stared at the councilor for a long moment, his mind racing through his options. He could refuse. Walk out of this facility and pretend he’d never heard any of it. Or could he? Given the secrecy surrounding the project, would Naran simply let him walk away? And even if he could get away, was there anyone who would be willing to stop it? The Council already knew the possibility existed, and despite their objections to the idea of hybrid children, he suspected that Naran wasn’t the only one desperate enough to look for alternatives to extinction.
And beneath his horror, beneath his revulsion at what was being asked of him, there was something else.
A faint, shameful, desperately selfish hope.
If Pagalan’s research was real—if Veyalor could make it work—then maybe, maybe, there was a future for his people after all. Not the future they’d imagined, not the pure Cire bloodlines the Council prized so highly, but a future nonetheless. Children who would carry something of them forward. A species that wouldn’t simply… end.
Was that worth the price Naran was asking?
He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. But he also couldn’t walk away.
“When do I start?”
Naran smiled—a thin, satisfied expression that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Immediately. Dr. Veyalor will brief you on the current subjects and the security protocols. You’ll have full authority over thenon-scientific staff.” He moved towards the door. “Oh, and Captain? One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“I suggest you prepare yourself. These females are not happy about their circumstances. Some of them may resist. It will be your responsibility to ensure that their resistance doesn’t… complicate matters.”
The door slid open, and Naran was gone.
He sat alone in the empty office, staring at the spot where the councilor had stood. Through the window, the Ciresian wilderness stretched to the horizon—beautiful, deadly, and utterly indifferent to the moral compromise happening within its bounds.
What have I agreed to?
CHAPTER THREE
Robbie’s thin wail pierced through Melissa’s skull like a needle. She bounced him gently against her shoulder, pacing the narrow confines of her cell for what felt like the thousandth time.
“Shhh, baby. Shh. Mama’s here.”
He wasn’t buying it. His small fists clenched against her collarbone, and his face scrunched into that particular shade of red that meant he was gearing up for another round. She could feel the tension in his tiny body, the way his breath hitched before each fresh cry.
Please, sweetheart. Please just sleep.
The night had been endless. She’d only just drifted off to sleep when he woke, and he’d never slept properly after that. Every time she’d managed to get him settled, something would set him off again—a distant noise from the corridor, the hum of the ventilation system, the unfamiliar smell of everything in this godforsaken place. He’d nursed fitfully, refusing to latch properly, then screaming when she tried to put him down.Her arms ached from holding him. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep. And the meal that had been delivered hours ago sat untouched on the small table, its contents long since gone cold.
Robbie’s cry escalated, and she felt tears prick at her own eyes. She was so tired. So impossibly, bone-deep tired that her thoughts had gone fuzzy at the edges, everything filtered through a haze of exhaustion and fear.
“I know,” she murmured against his downy head. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too.”
He didn’t understand her words, of course. He was only three months old, still operating on pure instinct and sensation. She suspected her distress was feeding his, but she couldn’t seem to break the cycle. She’d always prided herself on her calm and her competence, but right now, she was just another frightened woman trying to keep her baby calm in an impossible situation.
The door hissed.
She spun towards the sound, instinctively curling her body around Robbie. He must have sensed her sudden spike of terror because his crying intensified, sharp and panicked. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she watched the door slide open, already bracing herself for a guard wanting to drag her away for another examination where they treated her like a specimen rather than a person.
But the figure that stepped through wasn’t one of the usual guards. They generally ran to two types. One was small and grey with four arms and a disdainful attitude. The other was large and furry and cruel.
This alien was… different. Tall—impossibly tall—with broad shoulders and a powerful build that seemed to fill the entiredoorway. His skin was green, textured with small raised bumps that caught the harsh overhead light. A thick tail swayed behind him, and his eyes?—
Black. Completely black, like pools of ink set deep in a face that was somehow both reptilian and human all at once. When their eyes met, something that felt like a shock of recognition raced through her.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then he spoke, and his voice was low and careful, almost gentle.
