Conquered By the Alien Prince: An Alien Sci-Fi Romance (Luminar Masters Book 1)

by Rebel West

  As on Earth, scientists here on Luminar have not yet figured out how to re-myelinate a destroyed sheath if the body itself does not regenerate it. All they can do is try to slow the damage once an illness had taken effect.

  And tests showed that Maxxon doesn’t have any trifinolin buildup in his tissues; that happens when Luminar citizens are exposed to certain neurotoxins, none of which are in his system. So it isn’t clear why the drug worked in the beginning, anyway. Clearly, medicine here is still a mystery in many ways, just as on Earth. Sometimes drugs work and nobody knows why. Sometimes they don’t, and nobody understands that either. For every cancer we eradicate, there are a dozen conditions left unsolved.

  As I watch the molecule rotate slowly in front of my face, an idea occurs. If I’m right, I can use the novel idea of this molecule, combined with another compound I’ve been working on back on Earth, to possibly help with the disease affecting many residents of the Villages! True, humans do not produce trifinolin. But the mechanism of this molecule, the amazing way the amino acids are placed—now that is something I can possibly use to modify my own drug back on Earth. And maybe the way I have my alpha groups arranged—that could possibly make Lamixx even more effective.

  I suck in my breath. This has nothing to do with Maxxon, but it holds so much potential.

  I call up my holo system. “Can I get a sample of Lamixx 4B-27 to use in my lab? Also these chemicals?” I create a list of the compounds I need to replicate my Earth med research here on Luminar.

  A pause, then the system answers, “Requests for medications must be submitted to Dr. Jayya. Request pending. Please stand by.”

  A second later, my vid buzzes and a holo of Dr. Jayya appears. “Dr. Taylor.” Her voice is curt. “You requested a sample of Lamixx?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Yes.” I nod.

  “Why do you need it?” The alien doctor frowns through the holo.

  “Part of my research. My contract with Lock says I may do research as necessary using any medications that have been tried on your prince, or have been used on Luminar. That you will approve my request.”

  Dr. Jayya rubs her eyes. “I don’t think that will be beneficial to our progress.”

  I keep my voice pleasant. “I’d like a sample of Lamixx. If you feel it necessary to deny my request, we can discuss it with His Highness Lock. Or I could talk to Dr. Amakka.”

  Dr. Jayya blows out her breath and something flashes in her eyes, a brief emotion that is gone almost immediately. “That will not be necessary, Dr. Taylor. Dr. Amakka is quite busy at the moment. I will need to see a copy of your experimental progress and results.”

  “Of course. Dr. Jayya, I apologize if my request is rude or if I seem defensive. While I examined the molecular structure of Lamixx, it occurred to me that I can use it as a base for improving a human medicine. As well, I think I can adjust the Lamixx molecule itself, for potentially improved efficacy.” I pause. “I know it’s not within the bounds of working on Maxxon’s illness. For me, when I am mentally stuck, working on a separate project allows the subconscious mind to continue mulling over the original puzzle. I often work faster, make better progress, when I juggle two projects rather than focusing solely on one. Of course, anything I develop would be shared. Right now, I’m only at the stage where I’d like to begin preliminary testing.”

  Dr. Jayya is silent, then she nods. “I will approve your requests. The Lamixx will be sent to your station. Any other requests?”

  I run through a quick inventory in my mind. “No.”

  “Fine.” She ends the transmission.

  “Great,” I mutter. “You’d think she could be a little nicer.”

  The hoverpod waits near my door. I get in, then order, “Lab.”

  The door dissolves and the hoverpod slides down the hallway; when I crane my neck to see behind me, I notice my door re-forming. I’ll never get tired of watching that! It amazes me every time.

  It’s only seconds before my pod enters the lab. True to her word, Dr. Jayya has auto-ordered the Lamixx; a vial of it stands in the transfer dock, where it must have been drone delivered through the service tubes. The other medicines are listed as “approved” for me in the system.

  As I don rubber gloves and a mask, the helper droid lights up. “Welcome to your lab, Dr. Taylor. Lamixx can be handled without protective masks. Don’t forget that human skin is determined to be a match for the SaniProtect skin sealer so you do not need to use gloves if you choose the SaniProtect. You are approved as a level 4 user to handle Lamixx. I will fetch it. Where should I place it?”

  “Put the sample on the lab bench,” I command, by now somewhat accustomed to my robot helper, even though it is probably also a robot guard of sorts. If I tried to handle something toxic, would it stop me? If I attempted to break something, would it restrain me? I shudder.

  But I have a lot to do, and so I begin.

  After a while, I realize that I’m tugging my hair, unable to concentrate. Eager for voices of any kind to make the room feel friendly, I order the droid, “Radio on.” Sounds burst out, a wild melody full of strings and voices, something that might have come from Arabia, from Iran, from a place with a mystic soul.

  “Station A,” the droid intones. “Classical music.”

  It fills me with the desire to dance, and brings a smile to my face. I like stations B and C too: funky pop music, alien style, and a news/talk show. How can it be similar to Earth, and yet so different? Is the galaxy full of identical worlds of identical people doing identical things? It’s mind-boggling to imagine; both depressing and exhilarating at once.

  Snippets of the news catch my ear as I work.

  “Rebel group outside the capital city, Thore, amassed to at least five hundred citizens. Violence broke out between the protesters and the anti-protesters, and the guard arrested at least fifteen rebel supporters and eight anti-rebels for causing injuries. One citizen is in the hospital with a broken arm…”

  “…Scientists report that Aileron spring is reportedly experiencing higher than normal levels of the paramecium Albotons C. It’s not clear why the levels of Albotons are so high this time of cycle, and some experts think it may be due to the unusually warm temperatures earlier this cycle. Others disagree, citing that Albotons has never been temperature dependent and reacts more strongly to the presence of other organisms in the water. Albotons C is not a danger to Luminarian citizens, but it has caused issues in animals that have required large migrations. Let’s hear from Dr. Annika Batarr, who is the head researcher at the renowned AIC on the palace grounds.”

  “Thank you, Martt. It’s great to be here. So in my research…”

  It is almost exactly like my favorite Earth show, NPR-N-USA. Once again, I get that odd sensation that there’s something about Earth and Luminar that links us at the core, in ways we don’t even understand. Otherwise how would we have developed such similar things during the course of our centuries in existence?

  After another few hours of examination and playing around, my head starts to ache. I head back to my bed and fall immediately asleep.

  * * *

  The next morning, I awake to the soft chimes of my wrist band: a call from Lock, who’s been MIA, at least from my small bubble here, for days. I press the button, sleepy, to see his holo image burst to life in front of me. My stomach fills with butterflies and I swipe at my hair.

  “Dr. Taylor.” His voice, deep and strong, rings out into my room. “A joyful sun to you.”

  “And you. Good morning to you, too.”

  He nods. “Dr. Jayya said you didn’t come to the meeting she scheduled earlier this sun.” A hint of reproach tinges his voice.

  “I wasn’t aware of a meeting.” I stand up, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  “It’s hard to be aware of anything when one is sound asleep.” He sounds humorous, but his face is stern.

  “Nobody told me there was a meeting. I was up late reading about Maxxon’s history and Luminarian
medicines.” I look at the numbers on my wristlet. “I was only asleep for three hours.”

  “I see. Still, I prefer that you coordinate with Dr. Jayya because the reason we have you here is to learn from her and assist her. Is that clear? In the future, please make sure that you don’t miss meetings. Otherwise your time here will not be as useful.”

  I bite my lip, wanting to argue, but hold it back. Engaging in a one-sided catfight with his prized doctor will not go over well.

  All I say is, “I understand.”

  “In addition, Dr. Jayya said you were more interested in pursuing your own personal research than assisting with Maxxon’s illness.” He tilts his head. “Is that true?”

  “No!” Shit. “I mean, yes, I did ask her if I could use some of the medicines as part of personal research. But it wasn’t instead of learning more about Maxxon. It was to complement it. When I work on something else, I sometimes still turn over my main problem in my mind, and it allows my brain to think about it with less pressure. I’ve found that I make some remarkable breakthroughs that way. I wanted to kill two birds. One stone.”

  His face eases. “I understand.”

  “Do you? I can try to explain more, Lock. It may not make sense to everyone, and I understand how it’s easy to assume one should focus on nothing but the main problem all the time. It seems wasteful to work on a trivial matter. But sometimes—”

  He breaks in. “Sometimes, when you allow the background circuits of your brain to play around with it, the subconscious part, not the logical part, you tap into something more wildly creative. I know.”

  “You do! Yes. Good. Thank you.”

  “I do that myself.” His face lights up. “There are times I am troubled by a matter of state, or a difficult decision to be made regarding a law. If I ponder it over and over, I get stuck. On occasion, I can distract myself with Bakkari or another sport, and I find that somehow, even if I’m not outright pondering the issue, a solution comes to me.”

  “Yes. That’s what I wanted to do. I promise I’m not here to take your research for myself. I just want to learn in the empty spaces, you know? Fill my time, to be useful. And Maxxon is my first priority.”

  “Good.” He smiles. “Please clarify that with Dr. Jayya. She is considered your superior while you are here, and I respect her. I need you to work smoothly with her.”

  “I will.”

  “And while you were distracting your brain, did you learn anything helpful for my brother?” Now I hear hope in his voice, just like in Maxxon’s, and it breaks my heart to honestly tell him, “No.”

  His expression closes. “Please follow up with Dr. Jayya. My brother has requested some important meetings with me and his advisors so I won’t be around much this sun.”

  “Lock, I—”

  But he’s already signed off.

  I sigh. Well, it will be another long solo day, probably. I order water and some arath bread from the MFD, having developed a taste for the flaky, croissant-like pastry that melts in my mouth and tastes buttery and sweet. Then I get into my pod and float to the lab, marveling as I do at how matter-of-fact it all seems today.

  I zoom in on the STEM images of Maxxon’s muscle tissue again and expand the resolution, examining the edges of the myelin sheath. Something tugs at the corner of my brain, something old and elusive, but I can’t bring it to the surface. The way the sheath looks pitted seems almost mechanical. Like someone has peppered the tissue with small BBs to damage the sheath. This is so unlike any neurological damage I’ve ever seen before.

  What is it?

  I can’t find what I want in my brain.

  “Aaaaar,” I groan into my hands, rubbing my eyes.

  “Do you require assistance?” The drone is beside me in an instant.

  “No.” I twist my mouth, sigh, and pat it on the mechanical head. “Good boy.”

  “Command not understood.”

  “Never mind.”

  I giggle and stretch. Then I pull up information from my wrist band from Earth; today, for some reason, my connection works again. “Show me all Earth neurological conditions. Compare to similar Luminar conditions.”

  As the holo flashes up the info, I scroll down, looking for anything that jumps out at me. I have all of this memorized a thousand times over, but sometimes reading it in a different font, at different times, sparks new ideas. Brains are mysterious; for everything we’ve unlocked about the mind, a million other secrets lay buried, still to discover.

  CNS Demyelination: Hereditary disorders, hypoxia and ischemia, nutritional deficiencies, direction invasion of CNS, primary demyelinating disorders, toxins. None of them show the kind of pitting that is on these samples.

  I put in a call to Dr. Jayya. “Did you do a gene scan for Maxxon? Can I examine his DNA prints?”

  “You do not need that.” Jayya coughs. “We found no evidence that he’s suffering from anything genetic, and that’s all you need to know. What are you working on?”

  “It’s a shame I wasn’t invited to today’s meeting,” I say, forcing a smile into my voice. “I could have told you earlier.”

  “You can tell me now.”

  I hesitate, then admit, “I’m just doing background research, trying to come up to speed.”

  “I see.” Is that a hint of relief in Dr. Jayya’s voice? Or triumph?

  I frown. “Is there a reason I wasn’t invited to the meeting?”

  Jayya’s posture is stiff. “Again, I must reiterate that having to babysit you isn’t beneficial to the research my colleague and I are doing, Dr. Taylor. I respectfully request that you speak to the prince and tell him that you cannot help and that you recommend going back to Earth. If you want to help the prince, you’ll get out of the way of those of us who can.” She ends the transmission.

  I wonder if I should just go home. I’m not figuring out anything useful, and it would really take a decade to come up to speed on alien neurophysiology, especially with such a surly host. But I’m not ready to give up. I have a lot left to learn, and I don’t back down from a challenge. Something tells me I’m going to have a breakthrough soon.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Something about that pitted sheath keeps pulling at my mind. Little divots, almost evenly spaced, almost… mechanical looking. I tug my hair. What the hell is causing it?

  Suddenly it comes to me. Yes! Back in grade school, when I was first tagged as a genius child, I was sent to a college to tag along with a researcher. He showed me the way they prepared samples of muscle tissue to test myelin strength, and then the technique used to weaken each sample for eventual comparison. They’d used a micro-laser to blast small holes in the sheath, evenly spaced holes, in a controlled way to ensure that each sample was treated identically. Be measuring how long it took the laser to clear the thickness of the myelin in various locations of the sheath, they could assess sheath health and create a 3D rendering of the durability and any weak spots along a neural connection.

  The little pits in Maxxon’s sheath? I could swear they were made by a laser!

  But that’s impossible. It’s not like someone is sending tiny lasers into his body.

  Another thought occurs. What if someone switched the samples? What if the real samples that show his myelin degradation have been removed and swapped with these, so the doctors are working blindly, not knowing exactly what they’re looking at? What if somebody doesn’t want them to know what the damage really looks like, because that way they’d be working on the wrong things for a cure?

  But that, too, is impossible. The only ones who could possibly even do that are the doctors in charge. Dr. Jayya, for example. And no matter how rude and bitchy Dr. Jayya is, I don’t think she’s a saboteur. And Dr. Amakka seems too dedicated to Prince Maxxon. Besides, we both saw him take the tissue sample in person, when I accompanied him and Dr. Jayya to visit Maxxon and test his nerve conduction. And he’d uploaded an image immediately, a pitted one.

  Still, something isn’t adding up, and it g
ives me a sick swimming feeling in my stomach, a dizzy dull angst in my head.

  I tap my wristlet. “Dr. Amakka? It’s Cali Taylor.”

  “Yes?” The alien’s voice is distant.

  “I’d like to get another tissue sample, muscular tissues with a cross-section of the sheath, from Maxxon.”

  “We’ve done multiple samples, and uploaded photos of the results. Can you not examine those?”

  “I did examine those. Thank you. But I’d like a fresh one. I’d like to see the progression.”

  “There is one scheduled for next sun.”

  I keep my voice neutral. “Would it be possible to get one now?”

  “I don’t know why you need to see it this sun.” He clears his throat. “I have plans for the next seg. I need to, ah, communicate with my son.” His voice cracks.

  “Oh. Is he, how old is he?” I glance at the holo screen, as Dr. Amakka’s whole body seems to tense up.

  “Seven cycles.” The doctor’s voice breaks again and he clears his throat. “He’s... away at a camp. I don’t get to speak to him often.” He glances away from me and taps his fingers on the desktop beside him.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have kids.” I flush—why would he care about my procreation status? “Could we do it after you talk to him?”

  There is a long-ish pause, and I hold my breath.

  Finally he replies, his voice dull. “I don’t see why not. Yes, time is of the essence. I’ll arrange clearance for your pod to come to Maxxon’s quarters for the draw, and then we can examine the tissues in the lab.”

  “Thank you.” I send a quick prayer up to the heavens. “I’m ready.”

  * * *

  In Maxxon’s chambers, Dr. Amakka is polite and friendly, his moodiness from the holo call gone. “Your Highness, please extend your arm. This won’t hurt.”