It’s the opposite of anything I ever wanted.
He grabs a tube from over my head, guides it to my neck, and clips it in. Whatever fluid flows into me makes me drowsy.
“Zariah, stay with me.”
Can’t—
He rolls me back, crawls on top of me, and bonds his mouth to my puncture, slowly. Tingles replace the sloshing sensation of liquid in my lungs.
“Zariah.”
His hands are strong. His tongue is a delicious death.
I wish I could stay. I think I’ve finally found someone who truly cares, even if it is just his job.
I smile up at his bright gold eyes, like little suns. I’m choking, my vision fading fast. I can’t say it, but I hope he can read my lips. “Thank you for caring.”
“Zariah!”
15: Elix
Zariah blacks out and falls limp on the medical table. I was so worried about protecting her that I missed how badly she had been harmed. Now, she’s bleeding out internally.
I lug out a drawer and find an intubation kit, tear it open, and tilt her head back. Once I’ve got it in place, opening her airway with oxygen and respiration systems connected, I pull out the surgery racks and frantically sort through them for the vacuum line for this very situation.
It’s been a long time since I had to operate so quickly on another. I grab it from its hooks, reminding myself to separate my emotions from what I need to do if I want to do it right. Then I connect it to the siphon system at the head of her bed, and carefully insert the tube and camera.
“MONA, onscreen, camera switch to Main, medbay.”
The big screen beyond the third bed shows me the inside of Zariah’s chest cavity as I feed the hose in and clear out as much blood as I can. I fear her lung will collapse if I don’t work quickly enough.
“No matter what happens, I’m here for you Zariah.”
I can still taste her blood. My throat heats and my ooligilli gland begins to produce more solution that tastes a little different than before.
She’s bleeding internally. That’s where I need to send the serum.
I get a wild idea, something I’ve not tried. But the idea of possibly losing my mate, even if she doesn’t know it, is destroying me.
I grab a serum tube from the rack and connect it to the port in my neck. I draw out the serum that I can, then connect the tube to the respiration nebulizer. The solution vaporizes into a cloud—like water normally would to prevent dehydration of the respiratory systems of my patients.
“MONA, confirm ship location.”
“We are above Earth, headed out of the solar system, caravan position: fifty-nine of eighty-three. We need to jump soon.”
That’s what I was afraid of. “We can’t until she’s stabilized.”
“Would you like me to contact ABR’s head of security?” MONA asks.
“Not yet. I don’t know who to trust.”
Zariah arches on the table. Her heart rate rockets, and I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.
It was too much, too fast!
I switch on the nebulizer’s humidifier backup and mix the two into a diluted serum.
Zariah’s body relaxes. Her heart stabilizes, and the camera view shows no new blood entering her lung.
