“Help! I need help, please.” She should have done that already, but evidently panic was not congruous with practical thinking.

She shrieked as a form clad in black from head to toe, face masked, snapped into existence in front of her. It was no holo—it swept her into its arms and turned to shield her from her pursuers.

“Got you, yadoana,” it murmured. Not it, he. As if gender wasn’t obvious since the jumpsuit left nothing to the imagination.

“Abort the distress signal.”

Her one glimpse before he’d wrapped her in an oddly protective embrace revealed honed muscles and broad shoulders, a warrior’s physique.

“Who are you? I’m not aborting the signal.”

“The Bdakhun sent me,” he replied calmly, then nodded to indicate several more black clad figures popping into existence. 

“And them.”

“Teleportation?” Her voice trembled.

“Hardly. Basic cloaking tech.” His voice hardened. “We were watching for something like this.”

She shivered. The chill in his voice left no room for imagining what would happen to the doctor. “I think she was trying to medically kidnap me.”

“We’ll find out why.”

“That doesn’t require a leap of logic considering the circumstances. Who are you?”

And why did she feel none of her now customary panic in his arms? Embarrassment at the necessity of being rescued and carried, but he felt . . . familiar.

“Your shield,” he said.