“I will,” he said firmly. “I’ll be right back.”
He transferred Robbie back into her arms, and she clutched him automatically, pressing him close. Then he was gone, the door sliding shut behind him with a soft hiss. The silence was worse than before. She carried Robbie back to the bed and sat down, rocking him gently, murmuring nonsense words against his heated skin. The wet cloth had already gone warm so she wet it again and stroked it gently over his skin.
“It’s okay, baby. Mama’s got you. Someone’s coming to help. Just hold on.”
He didn’t respond. His eyes had drifted closed, his small chest rising and falling in shallow, too-fast breaths.
Please,she thought, to whatever god might be listening in this alien place.Please don’t take him from me. He’s all I have.
Time stretched and warped. It might have been five minutes before the door opened again, or it might have been an hour. Becsul was at her side before she could even look up, pressing a small vial into her hand.
“Fever reducer,” he said. “It’s a pediatric dose. I had to check the database to make sure.”
She didn’t ask questions, didn’t hesitate. The vial had a built-in dropper; she squeezed it gently to fill the reservoir, then coaxed Robbie’s mouth open and let the liquid dribble onto his tongue.
He swallowed reflexively, grimacing at the taste, and then his eyes drifted closed again.
“How long?” she asked.
“Twenty to thirty minutes for the initial effect. The full dose should bring his temperature down within the hour.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. She kept rocking, kept humming, kept wiping the damp cloth over his body and pressing her hand to his forehead as if she could will the fever away through touch alone.
Becsul didn’t leave. He settled onto the floor beside the bed, his back against the wall, and his tail curling loosely around his own feet instead of reaching for her. He was giving her space, she realized. Being present without crowding. It was thoughtful. It was kind. She wasn’t sure what to do with either of them.
“Thank you,” she said finally, when the silence had stretched too long. “For getting the medicine. For—” She gestured vaguely. “Being here.”
“Where else would I be?”
It was such a simple question, asked in such a matter-of-fact tone, that it took her a moment to understand what he meant. He wasn’t here because it was his job, or because he felt obligated, or because he wanted something from her. He was here because she had needed him, and that was enough.
When was the last time anyone showed up for me like that?
She couldn’t remember. Maybe never.
“Can I ask you something?”
He tilted his head, a gesture she was learning meant she had his attention. “Of course.”
“Your job. Before this place. What did you do?”
He was quiet for a long moment, and she thought perhaps she’d overstepped. Then he shifted his weight and settled more comfortably against the wall.
“I worked at the reproductive center in the capital. The Council established it as soon as they realized the effects of plague,” he said quietly. “They were trying to save our species through science. Artificial wombs, genetic manipulation, anything that might allow us to have children without the mate bond.”
“Did it work?”
“No.” The word was heavy with old grief. “They could create embryos. Fertilize eggs, grow them in tanks, monitor their development. But something always went wrong. They would fail to implant, or they would stop developing after a few weeks, or they would make it to the third month and then simply… stop.”
Her arms tightened around Robbie involuntarily. She couldn’t imagine it—watching pregnancy after pregnancy fail, hope after hope crumble into dust.
“How long?” she asked quietly.
“Fifteen years.” He looked up at her, and she saw the exhaustion etched into his face. “Fifteen years of failure. Of watching my people die faster than we could ever try to replace them. Of knowing that everything we did was pointless.”
“That’s why you’re here. Why you’re part of this.”
“Yes.” He didn’t look away from her eyes. “I don’t believe the ends justify the means, Melissa. I know what we’re doing to you is wrong. But I understand why Naran thought it was necessary. When you’ve watched your entire world die, you become willing to try anything.”
