Chapter 2

Chapter 1

They had arrived—her first alien planet.

Beth stood at the window, gazing down at Parac'Norr spread out below her with eager eyes. The massive Izaean starship had entered orbit five minutes ago, and she couldn't tear herself away from the view. The planet's surface was a patchwork of harsh deserts, lush forests, and towering mountains, but… it was beautiful. Utterly beautiful. Its stark and dangerous beauty called to something deep within her.

As if she'd come home, despite being born halfway across the galaxy.

She blinked, the realization that she'd traveled halfway across the galaxy hitting her all at once, and she shivered. She'd come halfway across the galaxy on a ship full of aliens with their version of homicidal rage.

All on her own.

She wasn't sure if that was brave or just suicidal.

Eager to get started on her research, she was more than ready to leave the ship, homicidal aliens notwithstanding. Isan, the ship's captain, had assured her of her safety on Parac'Norr. As the son of the Izaean leader, and married—sorry mated, she corrected herself—she'd believed his word could be trusted.

She found it odd that she was confined to a single level, though, only seeing Isan during his visits. But one level of a ship this size was plenty. It was so big she panted when she walked from one end to the other, and the spa facilities were to die for. Between swimming, indulging in the fabulous food that appeared in her dining room, and researching everything she could find about the Izaeans and their genetic Blood Rage mutation, she'd managed to keep herself occupied. She hadn't even noticed the time passing.

The comm crackled to life, filling the air with Isan's rich baritone. "Dr. Godwin, we have arrived at Parac'Norr. Kindly gather your belongings and meet me at the port elevator. We will be taking a shuttle down to the surface."

She suppressed a shiver at the deep notes of his voice. "Of course, Captain. I'll be there in a moment."

Did all Latharians have such deep, evocative voices, she mused, or was it a trait of the Izaean mutation itself?

With one final glance out the window, she grabbed her two small bags and headed for the door. Fortunately, she always traveled light, which meant she didn't have much to carry as she hurried down the central corridor toward the elevators. The doors had been locked during the trip, so she was pleased when they slid open as she approached.

Isan was waiting inside for her, his heavily muscled arms crossed over his broad chest as he leaned against the back wall. He blinked in surprise at her minimal luggage, his slitted pupils narrowing as he took in the two small bags she carried.

"Is that all the luggage you brought?"

She shrugged, the movement making one strap slip. She grabbed it before the bag could hit the floor. "I don't need much. Just my equipment and a few changes of clothes."

Isan's brow furrowed as his gaze swept over her again.

"Humans." He shook his head as he uncrossed his arms. "You are such strange creatures."

She studied him with open curiosity as the elevator began its descent, taking them deep into the bowels of the massive warship. The shuttle bay was at the bottom of the vessel, allowing the smaller craft to enter and exit through ports in the vessel's underbelly. It reminded her of the moon pool setup on the submarine she'd used while studying a subspecies of cuttlefish in the Arvenous colonies.

Even though she knew he could kill someone with his bare hands, Isan was gorgeous, with a strong jawline and bright blue eyes. Did all aliens look this good? Hell, if they did… she was in trouble. Really in trouble.

She hadn't been in a genuine relationship for years—so long she was fairly certain her body had closed up shop down there. The only action she'd gotten recently was with her battery-operated friends.

As if sensing her thoughts, Isan rumbled, "I'm sure you have many questions, Doctor Godwin. If that's the case, please don't hesitate to ask."

She laughed self-consciously. Shit, had anyone checked if the Izaeans were telepathic? She hoped not, though it would be fascinating if they were—perhaps something linked to their mutation.

She yanked herself out of her thoughts. "Am I that obvious?"

He chuckled, and her ovaries threatened to combust. It wasn't fair that he was mated, really wasn't.

"My mate Shannon gets the same look on her face when she wants to know something. So please, ask your questions. At least you won't attempt to stab me if I don't provide the answer you want. You won't, will you? Are you prone to stabbing, Doctor?"

Blinking, she squeaked, "Me? Stab someone? No!" Heavens, what kind of woman was he married to? "Honestly, I'm not at all the violent type. I promise."

He nodded, what looked like disappointment flowing over his face. And he'd called humans strange.

"Can you tell me about your Blood Rage? I read that you presented late, like your father?" she asked, eager to change the subject from stabbing.

"Yes," he said. "That's how I became a healer. Fortunately, I presented a long time after my training was complete."

She nodded along until his words sank in, and she froze. "Wait, what? Are you saying Izaeans are barred from medicine?"

His expression hardened as he nodded.

She frowned. "What happens when you fall ill then?"

"We recover, or we die."

Before she could respond, the elevator doors slid open, and a menacing growl greeted them, making her jump.

"Here we go." Isan sighed, pushing off from the back wall of the elevator and rolling his eyes. "You wanted to know about Blood Rage, Doctor? Your education starts here."

?

She staggered backward with a gasp, her shoulder slamming into the wall as Isan burst from the elevator and tackled the snarling Izaean outside.

The fight was fast and vicious, with the two massive alien men battling fiercely as they traded punches and kicks. She winced as Isan slammed his elbow up into the other Izaean's jaw and then followed up with a leap and a headbutt that almost brought his opponent to his knees. The air filled with the sound of fists striking flesh.

Despite her medical background, she couldn't help the small, involuntary scream that escaped her as the fight rolled toward her, and the grappling men crashed into the wall beside her. The collision was so hard that it left a deep dent in the metal of the wall, yet both men merely shook their heads as if clearing the shock before hurling themselves at each other again.

Her eyes widened as they swung… right toward her. She backpedaled. Quickly. She was about to get squashed, and she hadn't even made it down to the planet yet.

A hard hand wrapped around her upper arm and yanked her out of the way just in time. She looked up to find that her rescuer was another Izaean. He was just as large as Isan with dark hair hanging around his shoulders and a full beard.

Isan tore himself away from the fray to snarl a warning at her rescuer. "Don't touch her!"

The Izaean raised his hands in surrender and backed away quickly. "Not touching, boss. Honest!"

Several more Izaeans moved, getting between her and the fight and blocking her view. Curiosity won out, and she crept forward, trying to peek between them. The Izaean fighting style was violent and brutal but strangely compelling at the same time. It was easy to see that Isan was going to win.

"He won't... actually kill him. Will he?" she asked one of the warriors in front of her, concern filling her voice.

He glanced over his shoulder, amusement crinkling the skin around his mismatched eyes—one neon green, the other bright blue. "Kill him? Nah. He'll just rough him up and remind him of his place."

"O…kay." She tried to see past his shoulder again. The noise from the fight was still the same. Vicious growls and roars intermingled with the sickening thud of flesh on flesh.

Another Izaean, this one with scars all down one side of his face like an elaborate tattoo, caught her looking. He shifted to one side, allowing her to see past him.

Isan and his opponent were both bloody, scarlet splattered across their skin, the floor, and the walls. She looked up. Yeah, blood was on the ceilings as well.

They still fought like demons. Isan wound his arm back and landed a punch on the other Izaean's face, which sent him staggering. He followed up with a kick to the chest that made her wince in sympathy. That had to have broken ribs, but he just straightened up and rolled his shoulders. Perhaps the Blood Rage mutation granted their skeletal structure a higher force tolerance?

The Izaeans watching made approving noises as Isan moved in, flipped his opponent on his back, and then stomped on his knee. She should be more horrified at the violence happening in front of her, but scientific curiosity won out. She'd never seen anyone let rip with their full strength before. It was a great opportunity to see them in action.

With a final, resonating roar, Isan grabbed his opponent around the throat and slammed him down onto the metal flooring. The deck plating buckled under the impact. Isan stood over his groaning opponent, his chest heaving from exertion and his scarred skin glistening with sweat and blood.

The warriors watching cheered and slapped each other on the back as if they'd been the victors. They surged forward, hoisted the defeated Izaean, and swept out of the shuttle bay, leaving her alone with Isan.

His gaze followed them for a moment before he turned to face her, his pupils still dilated and a dark look in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine. As she watched, he wrestled his Rage back under control, and the calm, professional captain re-emerged. His gaze softened as he took in her expression.

"Forgive me," he rumbled. "You should not have been subjected to that."

As she shook her head, he stepped closer.

"No, it's fine. Absolutely fine." She smiled, carefully considering her next words. The last thing she wanted was to anger him, especially after the display she'd just witnessed. "I know violence is a part of Izaean culture. And I came here to study every aspect of your people."

His expression was unreadable as he studied her. Finally, he gave a curt nod.

"As you wish." He glanced down at his blood-spattered clothing. "We need to get down to the surface. I need to look into a situation there. Follow me."

He started to turn away, and she reached out to touch his arm, ignoring the sticky blood coating the leather.

"Captain, wait. I meant what I said. This is all useful data for me." She gestured around them. "I'm not afraid when things get a little bloody."

The stern set of his features softened slightly. "Very well. But no more observations through combat." A hint of dry humor entered his voice. "At least until after proper introductions."

She smiled up at him. "Deal."

She glanced down at the deck plating as they passed it on the way to the shuttle. It was dented where Isan had slammed his opponent into it. Crouching, she reached out to run her fingertip over the crease in the metal and snapped a quick image with her wrist recorder. This was exactly the kind of firsthand research she had been hoping for.

Then she stood and hurried after the big Izaean.

?

Beth followed Isan onto the shuttle. It was an ugly, big box of a thing with a utilitarian layout that screamed the designer had been more interested in power and function than the thing looking good. The huge engines at the back seemed to have been stuck on in defiance of the laws of physics and gravity. The ship was designed to be used hard, not built for luxury.

Her bags sat in the middle of the floor, waiting for her. In all the commotion from the fight, she'd lost track of where they'd ended up. Someone must have brought them aboard for her.

Then she blinked in surprise as she looked around the utilitarian passenger area.

"This looks the same as the one I took from Earth up to the station," she commented. She hadn't actually seen the outside. They'd boarded from the same kind of terminal she was used to for surface-to-space flights.

Spinning on her heel, she looked around. It was the same. Well… almost. The bulkhead between the cockpit and the passenger section had been removed, but other than that, the layout was the same, right down to the bench seating for giants along the walls. She remembered her feet not touching the floor and feeling like a kid once she'd been all strapped in.

Isan looked over his shoulder from where he was flipping switches on the pilot's console. At his movements, the engines roared to life, a deep rumble reverberating through the deck beneath her feet. "Probably. This model of drop shuttle is in service across the empire."

He inclined his head toward the copilot's seat next to him, and she sank down into it, grateful he didn't expect her to do anything. She hadn't the first clue about how to pilot a human shuttle, never mind an alien one.

After a pause, curiosity got the better of her. "So, the Izaean don't have a technological footprint of their own then?"

Amusement filled his expression, and he snorted, his lips quirking at the corners.

"No. We aren't typically educated after the mutation is identified. Then we're immediately shipped off to Parac'Norr." His smile faded. "The first few Rages are the worst. If an Izaean survives them, the command here does their best to provide some form of education. It's mostly the automated schooling that we can access through the empire's mainframe."

His expression turned grim. "But we aren't accepted at any of the guild halls for higher education. The few of us who were educated before the Blood Rage presented had our names struck from the hall records as soon as the mutation appeared."

He leaned toward her slightly, his voice dropping. "In the empire's eyes, I'm not considered a healer anymore. No one would say that outright, of course. Not with my standing… but I'm not."

Outrage flowed through her veins in a hot flood. "That's bloody ridiculous! Just because you have some quirk in your genes doesn't magically negate all your knowledge and training. You should be judged on your abilities, not random chance."

Realizing that she was almost shouting, she stopped and took a breath. "I'm sorry. I just get so angry at injustice like that. It's like you're being punished for something completely out of your control."

A new appraisal appeared in his eyes as he looked at her. "Most don't defend us quite so vehemently. We're seen as a lost cause."

"Well, that's utter bullshit." She lifted her chin in challenge. "No one's a lost cause. And discrimination for uncontrollable biological factors is unethical. I'll shout it from the rooftops if I have to."

The corner of his mouth quirked up again. "I appreciate the sentiment. But for now, discretion may be wisest." His expression turned solemn. "The empire looks harshly on the Izaean. They fear losing control, and what they can't control, they have a habit of destroying. Like the Vorrtan."

"The Vorrtan?" She blinked. "What is that?"

Keeping his eyes on the screen in front of them, he lifted the shuttle off the deck, and they edged over to the open bay doors. One moment the dented metal floor was beneath them, and then it was empty space, Parac'Norr laid out beneath them like a dangerous jewel in the inky velvet of space.

"This is Parac'Norr ground control to the dropship entering the upper atmosphere," a voice butted into their conversation.

"Not what. Who," he replied, his eyes narrowed as he spoke quickly over the comm. "This is Isan, transmitting ID code now."

"Received and verified, sir. Glad to have you back home."

"Good to be back. Isan out." He turned back to her. "How much do you know about the Lathar as a whole? Their history?"

Sitting back in her chair, she watched him carefully. It was interesting how he referred to the Lathar as them, even though she knew the Izaean were all Lathar originally.

"Not much," she admitted. "I know humanity descended from a lost Lathar expedition, and we retain some genetic code the Lathar lost over the years as they edited their DNA."

Isan nodded, his attention still on the view screen in front of them as the shuttle dropped through the clouds. Even though she knew they were going at a tremendous speed, it didn't feel like it. She couldn't even guess at the level of technology responsible.

"That's correct. The bridging code was lost, and somewhere along the way, the Izaean mutation occurred, but we don't know when."

"So are the Vorrtan another mutation?" she asked, itching to make notes.

He shook his head. "No. The Vorrtan were intentional. The first emperor, Kayan Vorr, created them to fight the Tanel and stop them from wiping out all life in the system. For over a hundred years the Vorrtan protected the empire, but then the war was over, and the other clans decided the Vorrtan were too powerful. They?—"

"Wiped them out. Yeah." She nodded. "Humans are like that. Control what you don't understand, or what's different. Destroy it if you can't."

He inclined his head. "So the Izaean keep our heads down, play the role the empire has decided we will, and keep to ourselves."

"I don't blame you."

She watched as Parac'Norr rushed toward them, feeling Isan's eyes on her for a moment longer before he returned his attention to the controls.

Then she let out a slow breath, her mind spinning. This job was going to be a lot more interesting than she'd thought. And she had a feeling it would keep on surprising her. Despite the dangers, she was looking forward to it…