Chloe watched as the SUV's lights vanished into the darkness of the fog-laden forest. The shifting boughs looked almost like skeletal hands clamoring to pull the vehicle into the dark depths. The winds growled with the will of those unseen monsters, overwhelming the fading sound of the distant engine.

  Chloe sighed and kicked a rock in frustration. The stone flew across the yard and clattered against the chain link fence. The metal chime rang out, breaking the eerie silence of the evening.

  Nothing about what had happened today made Chloe feel like she was doing the right thing for Humanity, even if her director had assured her that bringing Martinez in to fill the gap in her strike force was the best course of action.

  Despite understanding its efficiency, the idea still didn’t sit well with her. If she had her way, they would have sent another medic—maybe someone from the GU, or better yet, waited a few months for a proper special forces medic from Earth.

  Martinez was never meant to be an asset, a contact, or a useful idiot. He was just a person assigned to the region of space she happened to monitor.

  When she had first made contact with him, her intentions had been genuinely amicable. She was just there to help him and assure him that he was not persecuted or mistreated because he was a black classification species.

  AAfter all, she was in Draun to look out for Humans and their best interests while staying in step with the GU—without pissing them off too much.

  Initially, Chloe had thought that speaking clearly to him—explaining that she focused only on Humans, their lives, and their happiness—would work.

  It was too bad she stuck her foot in her mouth and said, “No, we are Humans; they are aliens.” Any idiot could see how that could be construed. She was in no way speciesist or anything like that. Legitimately, that was a blunder at the time, one that she never had ample opportunity to correct.

  Martinez hated her at this point, and there was no way she could be anything but a monster lurking in the shadows. She understood why; it was honestly justifiable. Her bosses demanded she bring him in and use all going on in his life as leverage to keep him in line, and she had done so.

  She had pulled out all the stops to force him into compliance. Lysa, his mentor, his future children, his friends' freedom—nothing was off the table as blackmail. The only thing she had not done was let Blondie and his team bag him up for some percussive persuasion. God knew they were more than willing to do that and then some. The squad of troopers had a running bet on when Martinez would turn tail and run. She prayed that Martinez did not prove them right.

  If he did try to flee, Mouse had already picked a quiet spot to bury him. Well, more accurately, Mouse would fly him into orbit and then jettison him into the depths of the void.

  No one would ever know what happened to that Human. But that was just a contingency.

  None of it sat well with her. If Chloe had her way, they would never have touched Martinez. He would have gone about living his life, and she could check on him every few months.

  Better yet, if he needed help, he could contact her as a liaison for the Human government. She would have done everything to help him. Hell, even something as simple as moving, she would gladly pay to have his stuff moved and set up.

  It was a shame how things had turned out, but nothing could be done about it now. If Chloe had to play the monster in this tale, she would be the most vicious, bloodthirsty, conniving demon this side of Phobos.

  Chloe lit a cigarette before taking a deep drag. The acrid smoke burned her throat and numbed her senses. The horrible habit was one of the only things she still took solace in. This addiction was one of the only things she did regularly that still made her feel Human in the slightest. A feeling that after having signed the death warrants of hundreds of sapients, rarely was by her side.

  Without these cancer sticks, she was no longer grounded—just another cog, endlessly pushing like Sisyphus for her species' survival and best interests.

  As she ashed her dart, she recalled all the times she wanted to apologize to Martinez. She had lingered nearby to the room where Mouse was fitting him for a set of Artemis armor, bucket, and all the other gear the troopers used. She had even touched the handle but could not muster up the will to open the door.

  At this point, apologizing for everything she had done would likely be seen as just another lie to him. He would likely hate her more for trying to say she felt terrible about everything.

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  She would apologize once this was all over. For now, Martinez could hate her. That was the norm for her. Having an asset hate and fear her created the best short-term results, which was all the corpsman would be needed for.

  “So, do you think he will work out?” Blondie asked, walking over, the gravel crunching under his heavy boots.

  Without even looking in his direction, Chloe extended her hand, another cigarette between her fingers. As soon as Blondie's steps were next to her, he took it.

  She thought about the question as he fished his lighter from a pocket and took his own anchoring drag. Chloe had no doubt that Martinez could do what they needed, but she was horrified by how it would affect his life. Martinez was a good man who did all he could for others, but that did not mean demons did not constantly claw at him. She had read enough reports on him to know about the nightmares and other PTSD-related issues.

  She could easily picture this mission driving a wedge between Martinez and Lysa. If it did, she could see him breaking down fully and being more than willing to suck-start a shotgun. Her actions could be the catalyst for yet another man being left broken with nothing left to live for—a shell of the righteous man she had first found. The thought of Martinez being added to the ever-growing list of souls she dragged down to her level made her shudder.

  He will," Chloe replied flatly, seeing no point in sharing her concerns with Blondie.

  Blondie would never understand why she felt conflicted about doing these things to Martinez anyway. While he might be able to say he understood, Chloe knew better. Blondie and his team were called L.O.S.T for a reason.

  Sure, they were Humans, but they were the closest things to living weapons that Humanity had in its arsenal. They had no family or connections, and most were enlisted under circumstances that were less than morally upstanding.

  L.O.S.T. was a strange unit—one Humanity had copied from the GU. Initially, the Human Government was hesitant about using people of less-than-reputable character as special forces soldiers, but the GU had answers as to why the growing species should forge these units.

  Because the soldiers had no one waiting for them, each unit of L.O.S.T. was a tight-knit group. The brothers and sisters on their side were all they had and would fight for them.

  Additionally, because many of the soldiers had specters in their past and wished to keep them there, the GU and Human Governments sweetened the deal by offering the soldiers a clean slate and a fresh start.

  At the end of their service, they would have a new name, new history, and new experience that would allow them to go far within the GU. They could forget all of their past and move on to a bright future.

  Blondie here was a prime example of someone who ended up here because of strange circumstances.

  Blondie had been working with an arms smuggler, supplying the Varintol with modern arms and training. Another L.O.S.T. team had tracked down their operation and attacked with the full force of Humanity’s might.

  The result was that Blondie had been recruited after surviving the attack. All it cost him was horrible scars covering his face and, of course, being declared a dead man.

  Most of the other troopers had similar stories. They were dead, missing, or declared missing—all so they could do what they were born to do: fight.

  “I am not sure,” Blondie replied. “He seems a bit too reluctant.”

  “Just trust me,” Chloe replied, rolling her eyes. “We just have to support him.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Blondie raised a brow.

  “He will work for us. We just have to show him there is a way out and that we won't ditch him like other assets. Martinez will know if we are trying to screw him over—he is too smart for that,” Chloe assured, flicking the last of her cigarette away.

  “What do you mean?”Blondie replied.

  “We will help him and his beloved as much as we can. After Lysa gives birth, he will be ours and fight like a beast to return to her." Chloe nodded.

  "That sounds like he is a bleeding heart," Blondie groused.

  "I suppose you are right," Chloe agreed.

  "So what is our plan now?" Blondie questioned.

  "We just have to keep the populace from panicking and stop the GU from touching Humanity’s assets,” Chloe replied.

  “So C.S.I, maybe a bit of A.T.R?” Blondie breathed smoke out of his cracked lips.

  “Yes,” Chloe nodded. “Doing that would be best.”

  All they would have to do is control sensitive information and perform asset threat removal operations. If all went well, Martinez would never even suspect they were involved in the next few peaceful months of his life. They would eliminate threats to him, Lysa, and their child—while ensuring the media kept things GU-approved.

  Sure, her team would do both at the end of a gun, but that is why their potential medic would be kept in the dark. It's not like he can complain about things he was unaware of.

  “Fair enough. I will prep the guys,” Blondie replied, putting out the cigarette on his bare palm, not flinching at the pain.

  “Good. Let me know your plan, and we can discuss any changes,” Chloe replied, turning around and leaving.

  Blondie grunted, likely expecting Chloe to act as his team's ball and chain yet again. If that was what he saw coming, he did not show it. Instead, he let his leader leave while he walked toward the main office, ready to begin planning what they would need to do to aid their future medic.

  By the time Blondie was done planning the next day, he had outlined every form of support the team could offer. They had plans and plans for plans for everything: specieism, kidnapping, open hostilities, or even getting a papercut. If you named it, they thought of it. Because Chloe demanded Martinez’s protection, by god, the guys in the unit would give it to him. Even when the threats came from the GU itself.