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We hurry down the steep slope, small rocks and bits of shale tumbling with us as we do. I keep a careful eye on F’lor, making sure she does not harm herself in her haste to get to them. Once we get to the bottom, she races across the ground, pulling off her cloak, and I realize she is frightened they will freeze in this cold weather. Have I not been told all about how humans cannot handle the weather here? That even when the islanders walk about in loincloths, the humans cover themselves in layers of furs?
And these humans do not have layers of furs or a khui to keep them warm.
F’lor gets to the first one—a female—and immediately whips her cloak around the human’s shoulders. “Start a fire, I’rec,” she barks at me. “And get out any extra furs or clothing we have.”
I nod, immediately tossing down my pack amongst the pods and using my knife to dig a hole for the fire. The strange moss—normally covered by layers of snow—will probably burn so I need to get down deeper. I can use the moss as tinder, at least. Breaking a few fuel cakes, I pile the fuel into a heap, moss on top, and use my spark-makers to get it burning. Once I have it started, someone races to my side and holds their hands out for warmth. I look up to see another female, her teeth chattering, the tip of her nose bright red. Her eyes are dull and lifeless, and she has no khui.
“Here,” I say, pulling off my short cloak and holding it out to her.
“I…I can understand you?” She looks shocked. “What are you? Are you a devil?”
I point at the fire. “Watch that. If it looks as if it will go out, yell for me. I must check on my mate.”
“I-I come in peace,” she blurts out as I get to my feet. “You know that part, right? I come in peace?”
I do not know what she is talking about, nor do I care. I leave her by the fire, heading for F’lor. She has two females sitting atop one of the pods now, both of them sharing her cloak. She holds the wrist of one, counting aloud, and then peers into the female’s eyes. “Any aches or pains? Any discomfort anywhere?”
“Cold,” the female says. “I’m so cold.”
“I know,” F’lor soothes. “My husband—he’s the big blue guy—is making a fire. He’ll give you something to eat and we’ll take care of you, okay? I’m a nurse, and I need to see if the others need help. If you don’t have any immediate injuries, go with him, all right?” She casts a look over at me.
I nod. Whatever she needs me to do, it is done, no questions asked.
“I’rec,” she says to me, helping one of the females down. “This is April.” The female staggers towards me, her feet bare against the moss. She wears nothing but a thin pale piece of leather that looks as if it is not warm at all, and her limbs are so cold they are almost the same shade. “He’s gonna get you something warm to wrap up in.” She turns to the other female. “What was your name, honey?”
“I…I don’t know!” The female bursts into tears.
“It’s okay,” my mate soothes, her tone both full of authority and sympathy. “It’s probably a stress reaction. We’ll get you settled and I’m sure it’ll come back to you. Let me look at your pupils again and then you’re going to go with I’rec and April, okay?”
The female is still as my mate looks her over, and then F’lor sends her to me.
“Come,” I say, herding the females. “The fire is warm and I have food. My mate will take care of you.”
“Where are we?” the nameless female sobs. “Why are you blue?”
“You are in Icehome,” I reply. “And I am blue because my mate likes it.”
ChapterNineteen
FLOR
The pods are an absolute disaster.
There are far too many of them. It’s disheartening to see. One new person stranded, we could handle. Two? We’ll figure it out. Close to two dozen? I’m feeling overwhelmed. But there’s no time for that. These people need help. When I get to one podand find it full of nothing but goods, I tap the flashing button to open it up, grab the blankets, hand them to a waiting I’rec, and go on to the next pod. I’ve still got my nursing instincts, and I know how to triage. We need to get these people warm and fed before they go into shock, and we’ll figure out how they got to this point later.
I’m utterly grateful for I’rec. I know I start snapping orders at him the moment I see someone in need, but he never questions my bossy attitude. He does what needs to be done, and looks to me for more instruction. He’s good with the people we’re waking up, too, patient and kind without making them even more afraid. He’s such a good assistant and if I wasn’t so busy with everything, I’d kiss the hell out of him.
I’m briefly annoyed that we sent Daisy and O’jek on to the Ancestors’ ship, because we could really use another pair of hands right now. These people have no clue what they’re doing here on this planet, and half of them don’t even know their names. I’m mentally going through what could cause that—did whoever dropped them here crash? Were they rough with the pods and are half of these people concussed? I don’t have answers.
I do know whoever did this is an absolute dick. No one that’s in these pods is prepared for life here on a wintry planet. They have thin blankets, scraps of clothing, and no shoes. Every woman I examine seems to have a normal pulse and no physical injuries, but if we don’t get them out of the cold and snow soon, someone’s going to have frostbite. I’m more concerned about head injuries, since half of them seem to be struggling with the basics—what’s your name, how old are you, where are you from, and the like.
The males are slower to emerge from their pods, and due to their sluggish movements and dilated pupils, I’m guessing they’ve been drugged with something. I suppose that’s good, as they all look like variants of Gren in some way or another, and I remember how violent and wild Gren was when he first arrived. He’s a big pussycat now, but that’s because I know him and he knows me. Gren is a splice, which is a male that’s been genetically created from several different aliens to be a fearsome gladiator. Looking at these men, I see most of them seem to be splices, too. I see horns and scales and fur and terrifyingly strong bodies. There’s one that’s a cat alien that must be praxiian, the race Daisy’s old master was. And there’s even a human man, though he looks strangely out of place with the others.
But they’ve all been dumped here, which means that for better or for worse, they’re now part of our family.
“You’re safe,” I tell each one as I help them to their feet. “My mate and I are going to help you. We’ll take care of you. You’re with friends.”
By the time the last pod is emptied of its occupants and the staggering, frightened occupant brought to the roaring fire, I’m exhausted from checking everyone over. I’rec is on top of things, though. He’s digging through the supplies, making sure each person has a blanket wrapped tight around them and handing out food and water. “Drink slow,” he tells one female. “Small amounts. And pass to the next. There is enough for everyone. We do not know how long your stomach has been empty so take small sips.”
