Dark Cure

by Cynthia Sax

  “I hope she doesn’t heed that warning.” The youth’s eyes widened. “I’d love to see that.”

  “You won’t see it.” Oghul would advise the sister not to push his little human. “Next stop on our tour is what we refer to as the ship’s medic bay.”

  He guided Gisella along the corridor before she utilized her gun she was likely fondling. It was doubtful she’d be impressed with their medic bay but it would distract her.

  Yesun followed them. The youth had no sense of self-preservation. “My eldest sister is a medic.”

  “That’s nice.” His gerel’s tone conveyed she was humoring the warrior. “I’m curious. What is your medic sister’s stance on cloning?”

  That was a test, one Yesun’s sibling would fail…as Oghul had.

  “Cloning is wrong.” Before he could warn him, the youth relayed the official Chamele policy on the process. “Everyone knows that.”

  “Hmmm…” Oghul’s more knowledgeable medic wasn’t impressed with that response.

  Chameles were isolated and they didn’t have a need for cloning. Offspring were plentiful. They weren’t aware of the new advances in the process.

  Their equipment and treatments were likely as antiquated. He braced himself for his gerel’s reaction and opened the doors to the medic bay.

  The space was as immaculately clean as the rest of the ship. It sported machines and two sleeping supports.

  His males rarely utilized it. There was no need. Not now. The Chameles were at relative peace, the only threat being one renegade warrior and his followers.

  “This is your medic bay?” Gisella strode inside the chamber, drifting her leather-clad fingers almost lovingly over the equipment. “Did you steal the ship?”

  He frowned. “Chameles don’t steal anything.” They sometimes claimed ships as spoils of war but those were rightly obtained. His kind had honor. “This ship was fabricated by us.”

  “My second eldest sister fabricates ships.” Yesun contributed that unnecessary information. “She installs the landing gear.”

  “You have quite a few sisters.” Oghul’s gerel walked around the space.

  “I have three older sisters.” The youth stood straighter, his expression proud. “I’m the only male.”

  She turned on the machines, tapped on screens, looked in compartments, rummaged through the supplies stored there. Oghul watched her face, tried to determine what his gerel was thinking.

  “Do all of the ships have medic bays like this?” She finally spoke.

  He gazed around him. Medic bays weren’t his area of expertise but it looked similar to those on other ships. “This is standard.”

  “The stationary medic bays have more stuff in them.” The youth sounded certain about that so that must be the truth. Having a sister in that role, he would have seen more medic bays than other warriors had.

  “More stuff.” She repeated those words. “Yesun, give us a moment of privacy.”

  Son of a Gechii. Oghul gritted his teeth. She wanted the youth to leave before communicating her thoughts. That couldn’t be good.

  “But—”

  “Return to the bridge.” He put the strength of a command behind his words.

  The youth snapped to attention, turned and departed…leaving the two of them alone. Oghul gazed at his gerel with wariness.

  “You. Have. Medical. Equipment.” She spaced each word evenly out.

  He glanced at the nearest machine. “We don’t have the same medical equipment you do.” Even he, with his lack of knowledge, could see that. “Your machines were white.” He didn’t know much but he had noticed that aspect of them. “These are silver.”

  Her leather-covered fingers curled into fists. “That’s because they were manufactured by different entities.” She stalked toward him. “You have machines, you big barbarian.” She punched him in the chest.

  The pain was negligible. The confusion she inflicted was greater. “I said we had machines.”

  “You said you thought you had machines.” She hit him again. Leather rang against bare skin. “There are”—smack—“brand new machines”—smack—“in your damn ship’s”—smack—“medic bay.”

  His cock hardened, her aggression arousing him. “We’ve had this ship for four solar cycles.” He caught her wrists, stopping her assault before she hurt herself. “The machines aren’t brand new.”

  “Four solar cycles isn’t old.” She twisted her wrists out of his grip and shook her tiny fists. “These are top-of-the-line machines, the best equipment credits could buy.”

  He studied the closest one. It was a machine. He didn’t know its function, had never used it. “Okay.”

  “Okay? Okay?” She glared at him. “You made me believe you were some back-planet species with no interest in healing. Yet you have advanced medical equipment, all of the means to heal beings, in your damn ship. That is not okay.”

  “We’re not a back-planet species.” He straightened. That was an insult to him and to all Chameles.

  “You’re not rational.” His gerel threw her arms upward. “Do you know what this does?”

  She stroked the top of a nearby machine, her leather-clad fingers sweeping back and forth over the shiny silver.

  “No.” He didn’t know what the machine did. He knew what she was doing—turning him on.

  “That’s my point.” She sighed. “You have a fully stocked medic bay with no medic on board. That lacks logic.”

  “This is a warship.” It wasn’t a pleasure vessel. “If we had a medic on board, my males would seek to protect him, would make decisions they wouldn’t make if all of the beings were warriors.”

  “I don’t need protecting.” Her chin lifted. “Your males know that. They’ve seen me on the battlefield.”

  What was she saying? He stared at her. “Your medic bay in the Refuge—”

  “That can be run by Medic Shaushka, my best healer.” His gerel waved her hands. “She should have had her own medic bay solar cycles ago. I’ll be content with this one.”

  “You won’t be content.” He wanted to stay in the Chamele system but had to be honest with her. “You’d be bored in that role.”

  She wouldn’t be happy as his ship’s medic. That wouldn’t challenge her.

  “Many of our missions going forward will be patrolling the skies above the planet.” The only real threat remaining was the renegade warrior and his followers. They would soon be apprehended. “My males are unlikely to become injured doing that. Your skills will be wasted. You’ll have no one to heal.”

  “Then I’ll heal beings in an even better stocked stationary medic bay.” She stepped closer to him, tilting back her head to meet his gaze. “Don’t you see? This changes everything.”

  “It changes nothing.” Lack of the proper machines wasn’t the reason she couldn’t tend to the wounded and the ill on Chamele 2.

  “I refused to move to your planet because I believed you didn’t have the medical equipment necessary to save beings.” She rested her leather-covered palms on his chest. “You have that equipment.” Her eyes glowed. “We don’t have to choose between our roles. You can be your Warlord’s second-in-command. I can heal beings on your home planet. Neither of us has to make any sacrifices.”

  The lines around her mouth had disappeared. Excitement lit her beautiful face.

  She believed all of their problems were solved.

  They weren’t. He dreaded telling her that, dreaded dousing her hope, but that was necessary. They had to face reality.

  “You can’t heal beings on Chamele 2.” He covered her hands with his, feeling the warmth through the leather. “Chameles don’t trust outsiders. They’ll never allow you to touch them.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Your males allowed me to heal them.”

  “If there had been a Chamele medic on the battlefield, they would have chosen him to heal them.” He was brutally honest with her. “Any Chamele, when given a choice, would choose a medic from his or her own planet.”


  She tried to pull away from him. He held onto her.

  “You’d choose a Chamele medic over me?” Her eyes sparked with anger.

  “Zondoo. No.” He hastened to reassure her. “I’d choose you. Always.” Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “But you’re my gerel. I’ve seen your abilities and I trust you.”

  Her chin raised. “I’ll earn their trust also.”

  “How will you do that?” They wouldn’t give her an opportunity to prove herself.

  “You could vouch for me.” That was her first suggestion. “As Kralj vouched for me when I arrived at the Refuge.”

  “I will vouch for you.” He’d always support her. “But my words would be discounted based on our bond.” He wasn’t impartial like the Ruler.

  They gazed at each other for a few heartbeats.

  She blew out her breath. “I’ll figure out another way to convince them. It might take time, but I’ll solve that problem.”

  “We’ll solve that problem together.” He corrected her.

  They were both intelligent beings and extremely determined. If a solution was possible, they would find it.

  “I have to study my prospective patients.” His gerel burst into motion, pacing around the medic bay. “Then I should see the opportunities.” She turned off the machines, put the equipment back in their proper places, straightened supplies. “I merely require more data.”

  That was his analytical female. She already had a plan.

  “I’m a Chamele.” He grinned at her. “I can give you as much data as you require.” He wanted to give her that data now. His balls ached.

  “I need a larger sample size than one.” She turned her head and smiled at him.

  The floor shifted under his booted feet. His yearning for her escalated.

  Those needs would have to wait. He would wager she viewed his ship’s medic bay as being respectable also, off limits for bonding. And he should show her the rest of the vessel.

  “You can observe my team.” Oghul grasped his gerel’s hand and led her out of the medic bay, along the corridor. He pointed out the training chamber and other spaces as they headed toward the bridge.

  His males would be gathered in that space. They were all warriors, not a diverse cross-section of Chameles, but they were present, and learning about them would be a place for her to start.

  Hope filled him. His little medic had the machines and supplies she required. Once she convinced his kind to allow her to heal them, she’d be happy.

  They could stay on Chamele 2. He wouldn’t have to leave his home, his friends, his role. Oghul would have all of that and his gerel. No warrior could ask for more.

  They entered the bridge. Qulpa, his team’s most skilled pilot, sat in the captain’s chair. All chattering stopped as their presence was noted.

  “Second.” The older male stood, his expression blank. The warriors shifted to the left. “Lead Medic.” He moved to the free seat.

  Oghul claimed his rightful place on the bridge. “You’ll share the captain’s chair with me, gerel.”

  He pulled Gisella onto his lap. That was her rightful place.

  “Let me go.” She wiggled, fighting him as she usually did. “This isn’t dignified.”

  “Settle down.” His balls were ready to explode.

  “Lead Medic can take my seat, Second.” Ariq leapt to his booted feet.

  “But—”

  “I will stand.” Ariq glared at Yesun, severing the youth’s protest. It was dissent Oghul wagered all of his males shared yet didn’t dare to voice.

  “Why will you stand?” His observant female hadn’t missed the undertones in the space. “What is wrong with the other seats?”

  “Only the three central consoles have access to all systems.’ Oghul explained to her. “I’m the Second. Qulpa is the most skilled at flying.” The older male’s face reddened. “Ariq requires access to multiple systems.”

  “Fuck.” His gerel whispered that curse under her breath. “I will share your Second’s seat, Ariq.” She slumped against Oghul. “You can return to your post.”

  “Thank you, Lead Medic.” Ariq gave her a hint of a smile as he reclaimed his seat.

  “Yes, thank you, Lead Medic,” Oghul murmured. He nipped her right earlobe and she jerked, the scent of her arousal flavoring the air. “What’s our status, Qulpa?”

  “We’re on course, should arrive at Chamele 2 on schedule, despite one of engines operating below optimal levels.” The male tapped on the viewscreen embedded in the console. “If the Lead Medic knows how to correct that, we could eliminate that concern.”

  “If I know?” She blinked. “I don’t have any experience with engines.”

  The lines deepened on Qulpa’s forehead. “I saw the images on your wall. The engine designs were innovative and unique, showed an in-depth knowledge of ship fabrication.”

  “Those were my mother’s designs.” She linked her fingers with Oghul’s, as though needing the reassurance of his touch. He squeezed her hand. She took a deep breath and released it. “She’s dead.”

  Qulpa dipped his head. “My parents are dead also.” His voice was gruff.

  Silence fell in the space. Everyone on the bridge had lost someone. The succession wars had been violent and bloody.

  Oghul rested his chin on top of his gerel’s head, grateful to have met her after that conflict. She leaned back, into him. They gazed at the blackness of space displayed on the main viewscreen.

  “What are the ramifications of the engine error?” Oghul asked Qulpa.

  “We can’t reach full speed.” He sent more details about the engine issues. “It shouldn’t affect our voyage or our arrival time.”

  “I’m glad.” Yesun interrupted the debrief. “We’re arriving on my second eldest sister’s birthing planet rotation celebration.” His eyes sparkled with excitement. “I told my family I was coming home for it. They’ll be waiting for my appearance to share nourishment.”

  “They’ll run out of nourishment if you arrive,” Qulpa muttered.

  “My mother says she’ll make extra.” The youth lifted his chin. “And she says anyone on the team who wants to attend can. That includes you.”

  “I might do that.” The older warrior never talked about what he did between missions.

  “I won’t attend.” Ariq looked at his viewscreen. “I’m going to Chamele 4 to hunt.”

  Other males relayed their plans. Everyone was eager to return to their home planet, to see their families, their friends, the terrain they loved.

  Oghul would be returning with his gerel. He wrapped his arms around her.

  Their future remained uncertain. They hadn’t yet determined how she could convince other Chameles to allow her to heal them.

  But she would be by his side. That fate was decided.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gisella survived three planet rotations without checking her messages. Her team was well trained. Medic Shaushka had the skills to lead them. They all carried guns modified to zap unruly patients.

  They were fine.

  She slowed as she passed one of the viewscreens hanging in the chamber she shared with her barbarian. Were they truly fine? The medic bay was situated in the Refuge, a settlement the worst beings in the universe called home.

  She paced in front of the device. And there might be a situation they couldn’t handle. Fuck. They could be sending messages, asking for help and she wouldn’t know it.

  “Contact your medics, gerel.” Oghul watched her as he cleaned his weapons, her warrior constantly preparing for battle. “The lines are secure.”

  “I’ll listen to my messages.” She tapped on the viewscreen, accessing that data. “There might be an emergency.”

  There were thirty-nine communications. Thirty-nine. Her shoulders crept upward. Was the medic bay still standing?

  She listened to them.

  “The Ruler spoke to us.” Medic Shaushka’s voice lilted with excitement. “I’m happy for you and h
onored by my opportunity. I’ll strive to be as good a Lead Medic as you were. Thank you for all you’ve taught me.”

  Gisella blinked. That sounded permanent yet she hadn’t told anyone she wasn’t returning to Carinae E.

  “Yay!” Pono cheered on the next message. “We knew it. I told Ada-758 and she laughed. No one can resist a warrior. Those were her words, not mine. Last shift, Lead Medic, the new one, not you, allowed me to reattach a finger.” The girl chattered on and on, the words bubbling out of her.

  Gisella smiled, listened, moved to the next message. Medic after medic wished her the best, thanked her for her mentorship. All of them assumed she had left Carinae E forever.

  Kralj, the Refuge’s Ruler, didn’t believe that. He had forwarded five intercepted communications detailing top-secret innovations in healing.

  “The blood clotting technology would be useful on the battlefield.” Oghul took one of his guns apart.

  “It’s interesting but remains too experimental for my patients.” She considered the breakthrough. “I’ll follow up with the medic, ask for more information.”

  She paused. That wasn’t the only being she should contact.

  “Kralj thinks I’m returning to the Refuge.” She wasn’t. That decision had been made as soon as she saw the Chamele ship’s medic bay.

  “He didn’t say that.” Her barbarian looked down the barrel of his weapon.

  “He didn’t have to say it.” The settlement’s Ruler didn’t talk unnecessarily. “He wouldn’t share that information if he didn’t believe I was returning.” Kralj often stated that beings outside the settlement’s walls were none of his concern.

  And she was sectors outside of it. Gisella sighed. She’d miss having access to the medical intelligence he obtained.

  “I’m contacting Kralj.” She skimmed her fingertips over the viewscreen. “He deserves to know our plans.”

  The Ruler had vouched for her when she arrived at the Refuge. He’d spared no resources filling the medic bay with machines and supplies, giving her everything she needed to heal her patients. She owed him that respect.