Page 7 of Alien Healer’s Mate

“Her brain remapped itself somehow during the coma,” he explained. “Her neural architecture reconfigured around the trauma sites in a way I’ve not seen before, and definitely nothing like anything I can find in the human databases. The only time I’ve seen anything like that is in records of the adaptive regeneration in some of the old-clan bloodlines. She shouldn’t have that ability, even we lost it generations ago, but the scans don’t lie. The pathways are new. Self-generated. It’s⁠—“

He caught himself, and Daaynal’s lips quirked.

“Remarkable,” Kellat finished.

“Remarkable,” Daaynal repeated. “Excellent. Keep me updated on both females.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

Daaynal nodded once and ended the call. Kellat was alone in his office with the quiet hum of the station and the echo of his own words.

Remarkable.

He’d said it out loud. He’d said it to the emperor, who missed nothing, sounding like a novice who’d just discovered that the body was more interesting than the textbook said it should be.

The worst part was that he’d meant it.

He pulled up the feeds from both high-dependency bays on his console. All the readings were still green. Charlotte was still deeply under, so he turned his attention to Delilah. She was still sleeping, small and stubborn and wired differently than any human he’d ever studied.

The most interesting case of his career was the female he couldn’t… wouldn’t claim.

Caution, he reminded himself. Evidence. Clinical judgment.

Sitting back down, he pulled up the old clan databases before he could talk himself out of it. They were lineage records. Lost bloodlines that had scattered across the empire long before humans were discovered. But humanity was descended from the Lathar, from the expedition ship that had crashed hundreds of thousands of years ago. Which meant she did have lathar DNA, and if her brain had remapped itself, then the answer was in the data. It had to be. The archives went back over three thousand generations, and somewhere in those records was a genetic signature that matched hers.

He was three hours deep in the search before he noticed that the silence in the office was wrong.

It took him a full ten seconds to understand why. The layered sound of the medical bay was as familiar to him as his own heartbeat… all the monitors with their steady chorus, and the cycling of air through the filtration systems. He’d spent so many years inside that sound that he stopped hearing it unless something changed.

And something had changed. Frowning, he looked up. There was a gap. One of the monitor cadences had dropped out, and it took him another two seconds to identify which one it was.

Delilah’s bay.

He was on his feet and through the door in an instant.

The main bay was quiet. Normal rhythms. Normal lights. The junior healer looked up from the duty station with the slow blink of someone who’d been staring at screens too long.

“Lead Healer?”

Kellat didn’t answer. He was already past the younger male, already through the door to Delilah’s bay.

The bed was empty, the covers thrown back. The monitors were still running, their leads dangling over the side of the mattress where she must have pulled them off.

“She was there a few minutes ago when I did my rounds,” the junior said from the doorway. His voice had gone high and tight. “She was sleeping. I didn’t⁠—“

“Miisan.” Kellat barked. “Locate Patient Delilah Sawyer.”

Miisan’s voice filled the room, calm and precise. “Patient Delilah Sawyer is not currently in the medical bay. Life signs are strong. She is moving through the station’s main corridor, heading toward the civilian sector.”

Kellat closed his eyes. Draanth.

“She was asleep,” the junior healer gabbled quickly. “I swear⁠—“

“Get out.” Kellat snarled, brushing past the younger male and out into the corridor.

Delilah was awake. Worse, she was unsupervised and loose on the station with a brain that had rewired itself three days ago and legs that hadn’t walked a step in weeks.

Which meant he had to find her before she hurt herself.