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Khoth turned around to see Jace sitting up, looking rather bleary eyes with his hair sticking up in every direction.

“Jace, you should be asleep!” Khoth chastened as he closed and locked the door. It was now set on Do Not Disturb.

“Yeah, well, it was way too exciting in here to do that. I got a little sleep. Besides, I needed my warm Thaf’ell pillow to properly go to bed.” He yawned and stretched a hand towards Khoth. “You’re too far away. Come here. Lay down with me.”

Khoth came and after toeing out of his boots, he got up on the bed. Like Thammah, he wished he could shower before touching Jace, but the young man snuggled right against him with no hesitation. If there was some residual danger, Jace would know.

“So am I right? Was that your dad giving me the seal of approval?” Jace asked.

“My father admires you very much. Yes, I believe it was.” It was actually more than that. His father was telling him that he would accept Jace as family, as Khoth’s mate.

“That’s awesome. I think your mom’s still on the fence though. But she came. That’s progress,” Jace murmured against his chest.

“She did. But my father is correct. These actions do not undo her prior ones,” Khoth cautioned Jace, finding his own eyelids starting to droop along with Jace’s. “But rest now. We need not discuss her further.”

“We should get some zzzzzz’s now, because the Osiris is sending down the cavalry and it’s about to get complicated again,” Jace told him.

Khoth kissed the top of Jace’s head, which had Jace making contented sounds. If the day had taught Khoth anything about Jace, himself and their crew, it had taught him that, “Whatever comes, we will handle it.”

The New Team

Dr. Daraja Isa, Matias Torres, Dr. Miranda Kerr and Chili all boarded an elevator to the hangar bay in the Osiris. Daraja adjusted her hold on the white, medical cooler she carried in her right hand. It contained the glowing, blue liquid the Osiris had insisted she bring and administer to Jace on the planet. It had not been smooth sailing to get to this point.

Not that she didn’t want to take care of the Pilot or go down to Haseon. No. But she was a doctor. Not an AI’s arms and legs. The Pilot was her patient so she had to understand what she was giving him and why, but the Osiris hadn’t quite wanted to tell her.

A panel in the back wall of the Med Bay had slid down to reveal a cooling bag of liquid. It glowed like some kind of party favor one would see at a high end nightclub not a medicine at all. She’d caught sight of it out of the corner of her eye as she treated Dr. Hayter’s injured knee.

The hologram of the linguist’s vitals had suddenly been minimized and a blinking cursor replaced it.

You must bring this medication to the Pilot, the Osiris said. I will provide instructions as to how it should be administered. You are not to deviate from these instructions. You must leave immediately. Flight-Commander Thammah is preparing to return to the planet in ten minutes 38 seconds and it will take you four minutes and 53 seconds to arrive at the dropship. Will you comply?

“Explain to me his condition, what this medication is, and what it will do,” she’d requested as she finished an injection of a drug similar, but much better than cortisol into Dr. Hayter’s injured knee.

The linguist should have been in pain, but he seemed quite happy staring at the holographic readout of his vitals that floated above him. An earlier scan of his knee--which showed the old injury that had flared up--was also floating above him. The medical system recommended that he go through a certain mix of nano and hydrotherapy, which would repair the injury, clear up the scar tissue and help the linguist with exercises to strengthen his limb afterwards.

You do not require that information in order to treat the Pilot, the Osiris said, a little testily in her view. Will you comply?

“Oh, my, that’s quite touchy! Someone’s not in a good mood!” Dr. Hayter laughed--giggled really--and sighed. In contrast, he was in a good mood. A very good mood.

I must study these stims and their effect on humans, she thought.

The Pilot requires this medication. I need it delivered and administered to him. Are you unable to do so? The Osiris asked.

Dr. Hayter giggled again, finding this very funny.

It was the first time the Osiris itself had communicated directly with her. While she had interacted with many of the programs it had designed for her and the Virtual Intelligences that inhabited the many machines in the Med Bay, this was the first time the Osiris had addressed her.

She set down the needle on the metal tray and took off the rubber gloves, which she placed into the recycling receptacle. She heard a faint whoosh and grind as the material was recycled for use in another set of sanitary gloves. She allowed all this to happen before answering.

You now have nine minutes and 22 seconds to reach the hangar bay before Flight-Commander Thammah leaves, the Osiris pointed out. It will take you--

“Comm contact Flight-Commander Pyrrus,” she requested.

“Daraja! What can I do for you? Is our linguist recovering?” Thammah asked.

The comm showed her working to load in various weaponry into the dropship. She did not stop loading as she talked and that was true even though she had dislocated her shoulder. Other than allowing Daraja to administer certain pain medications, Thammah had handled the rest. She’d popped her shoulder back in even before she’d returned to the ship. Daraja did want to do a thorough workup on her as it was, evidently, a recurring injury. But Thammah had too much to do that day.

“He is very well. I think he shall be fully himself by tomorrow. So long as the stims wear off by then,” Daraja said dryly.