She’d promised Mikoz’s mother that she’d keep him safe. How could she keep that promise if she hadn’t even recognized that he was getting sick?
“Corinne.” Selik’s tail settled around her waist, warm and steady. “Breathe. He needs you to be calm.”
She sucked in a shaky breath and then another, forcing oxygen into her lungs until the edges of her vision stopped going gray. Mikoz whimpered against her chest and she adjusted her hold, snuggling him against her.
“Okay,” she managed. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He led the way rapidly through the ship and the few crew members they passed took one look at Selik’s expression and quickly moved aside. Anya stuck close to her side, her face pale but determined.
The med bay doors slid open at their approach, the space beyond as clean and efficient as she remembered. The medic had helped Anya, she reminded herself. Surely he could help Mikoz as well. Bombaya’s expression shifted from mild curiosity to sharp focus the moment he saw them.
“What happened, Commander?”
“The infant is ill. Fever and respiratory distress.”
“Put him on the exam bed.”
She moved forward on autopilot, her entire world narrowed down to the hot, fussy bundle in her arms. She had to force herself to put him down, hating how small he looked against the clinical backdrop. His cries had faded to weak mewls that somehow felt worse than full-throated screams.
The doctor ran a handheld scanner over the small body, studying the readout with a frown as he started the overhead scanner.
“Respiratory infection,” he said finally. “It is not uncommon in Cire infants.”
“Can you help him like you did Anya?” she asked anxiously.
“I’m going to give him an antibiotic injection and something to bring down the fever,” he explained, glancing at her. “The medication is standard for Cire infants and should be safe, but there’s always some risk when treating one so young.”
“I understand. Please. Just make him better.”
Bombaya prepared a hypospray with quick, economical movements, and she held Mikoz’s small hand, murmuring nonsense words of comfort while the doctor administered it. The baby barely reacted beyond a weak cry that broke her heart.
“The fever should start dropping within the hour,” Bombaya said, disposing of the used spray. “The infection will take longer to clear, but he should be past the worst of it by morning.” He pulled out what looked like an IV stand and began setting up a fluid drip. “I want to keep him hydrated while his body fights this off.”
She watched as he inserted the tiny needle into Mikoz’s arm and secured it with gentle efficiency. The bed adjusted to cradle his tiny body but the sight of medical equipment connected to such a small, vulnerable body made her chest ache.
“Can I hold him?”
“Once the fluids are running, and I’m confident he’s stable.” Bombaya checked the drip rate and made a few adjustments. “Right now I need him to remain still so nothing gets dislodged.”
She nodded and stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. The adrenaline that had carried her through the initial panic was starting to fade, leaving behind exhaustion and the shaky aftermath of fear.
Selik appeared at her side, solid and warm. His tail curled around her waist in that possessive gesture she was coming to crave, offering comfort and support without words. His other arm was wrapped around Anya’s thin shoulders and the girl was clinging to him just as tightly.
“He will be all right,” he said quietly. “Bombaya is skilled.”
“I should have noticed sooner. I should have realized something was wrong before it got this bad.”
“You are not a medic. You cannot blame yourself for not recognizing symptoms you have never been trained to identify.”
“I’m supposed to take care of him. That was the promise I made to his mother.”
“And you are taking care of him. Both of you.” His hand settled on her shoulder, warm and grounding. “Anya let us know he was sick, and you brought him here the moment you knew he needed help. You did exactly what a good parent would do.”
Parent.The word settled around her shoulders like a mantle she wasn’t sure she’d earned yet, but she wanted it. God, she wanted it so much it hurt—this small creature who’d come into her life through tragedy and somehow become the center of her world in a matter of weeks.
Anya moved to her other side, slipping a hand into hers. They stood there together, a makeshift family watching over their youngest member while skilled hands worked to make him well.
Bombaya continued his examination, checking vitals and making notes on his data pad. After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, he finally looked up and nodded.
