His explanation didn’t clear up why he was working with her files. “Forgive me, but are you a physic? I thought only elders wore the robes.”
“You’re half-right. I sit on the council but have always had an interest in the healing arts. I volunteer my time here when I can. And with so many females coming in for testing and translator insertions, and with three expectant mates often in the clinic, it’s an exciting time, and I’m happy to help.” He paused, and his eyes dropped to her belly. “Is it possible the general has bred you? Oh, forgive me,” he said abruptly, laying his hand on her arm. “You humans prefer the term expecting. Isn’t that right?”
Lana was momentarily speechless. They were so cavalier about mating and bonding and breeding. In time, she might get used to being discussed like she was a mare at a stud farm, but not today. “I'm here for something else.”
“Oh,” he said as his face fell. “You and the general will have to keep trying.”
“Uh, well, yes...” she stammered, her face hot enough to fry eggs on now. “Did you say three human mates were expecting? I only knew about two. Do you mean three more or three total?”
He tilted his head and frowned. “I believe it's five in all, but that is speculation, which I shouldn’t be doing. As a volunteer, I'm not always kept-up-to-date with the latest details. Wouldn’t that be an answer to our prayers? Five successful matings out of eight, and in such a short time.”
“Yes, wonderful,” she muttered, not equaling a fraction of his enthusiasm.
“I must get back to my tasks, my dear. I wish you the Maker’s blessing for some good news soon.”
He moved on to the next room and with a swish of doors disappeared inside.
Lana stared after him a moment. For an elder, he wasn't at all like the staid, bound in tradition, sourpusses she believed them to be. Left a little dazed by their encounter, she entered her assigned room and put her cup on the counter trying to prepare herself for more bizarre events which always seemed to happen when she went beyond the safety of her general's arms or his residence.
A beeping drew her attention to the tablet on the other side of the sink. Glancing at the screen, she saw a warning box announcing an auto-lock countdown. The older man had forgotten to log out.
Curiosity got to her, and with only three seconds remaining, she touched the screen and stopped the clock. For some reason, guilt swept through her, and she hesitated, but only for a second. With her name at the top of the screen, she decided it was her record, and she had every right to look.
Below her name was a list of identifiers.
• Sex: female, human
• Family of origin: unknown, human
• Mate: Trask of Valkerr
“Valkerr?” she wondered aloud. “Is that like a surname? Or where he was born?”
Eager to see what else she might find, she began scrolling and opening tabs. Much of it was blank or listed as unknown. When she clicked on the section labeled test results, she saw reports from today and weeks ago, while she was in the med-bay on the Reliant.
Mostly, it was rows of meaningless numbers and data points, and plenty of terms she didn't understand despite having a translator. Since it made little sense and she didn’t want to get caught snooping—was it snooping if it was her chart?—she was about to exit when she saw a section marked mate testing and breeding.
When she touched on it, a score appeared under the heading of compatibility—92 percent. Not bad at all. Then she noticed the rating of borderline below it.
“I’m beginning to hate that word,” she muttered.
The number must not mean what it did in her world. Frowning, she scrolled down. A summary of findings listed in bold print jumped out at her.
• Biocellular match: weak positive
• Bonding markers: 20th percentile.
• Breeding probability: highly unlikely
• Recommendation: reassignment, match not advised.
As she stared at the screen, the words blurred into a jumble of lines and dots.
“Stupid,” she whispered, wiping the tears from beneath her eyes with her fingers. This was nothing she didn’t already know, except ‘‘highly” modified unlikely, which was more dismal than before, and now she had a number to rate how unacceptable she was for Trask.
Deciding she’d had enough, she reached for the screen with shaky fingers, intent on returning it to its original setting, but two yellow triangles caught her eye. She hesitated, even though curiosity told her to look. Could she take more bleak predictors and depressing recommendations? But the news couldn’t be worse, so she had no place to go but up, right?
When she touched on one, she wasn’t surprised to see the data source listed as the USIF Odyssey Medical File for Lana Hartman, Ensign II. This was what the elder had uploaded. Of page upon page, only two were flagged with yellow triangles. She went directly to them.
The first was a discharge summary from Mercy Medical Center dating back to when she was five. She’d been treated there after the collision which killed both her parents and left her severely injured. Listed up front were her admitting diagnoses: puncture wound left abdomen, lacerated spleen, perforated bowel, and pelvic trauma with severe contusions. She glanced over the following pages filled with medical terminology and quickly moved onto the next yellow flag.
It was an operative report from the same hospitalization. The procedures performed included an exploratory laparotomy, splenectomy, and a left oophorectomy. Only certain of one, and guessing at another, the last leaving her completely clueless, Lana read on to learn they’d removed her severely damaged left ovary. The right one was left intact, but due to extensive trauma to the fallopian tube, she was expected to be—
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, wheezing as her windpipe constricted and trapped the air in her lungs. A painful spasm gripped her chest, and she had to grip the counter to keep from falling.
She looked at the screen again to be sure she’d read it correctly.
Infertile.
The awful word hadn’t changed in the last five seconds.
She dropped her hand to her belly, covering the scar she’d carried with her for twenty-two years. Why had no one had ever told her the extent of her injuries? But when?
Only a child at the time, and too sick to comprehend, she wouldn’t have anyway. She had very little memory of being there and no recollection of the surgery, only the scars to prove it had happened. Afterward, with no family to take her in, she’d been placed in foster care which had started years of bouncing from place to place. There was no one to explain the details of what had occurred, other than the first of many social workers. While in the system, she had minimal contact with physicians, except for annual checkups and visits for an occasional cough or a sore throat. The only physicals she’d had as an adult were for college, and when she’d entered the military, both cursory exams. She’d gone on birth control a decade ago even then no one had said a thing. Had they assumed she already knew or were they merely incompetent?
Suddenly her breeding probability went from highly unlikely—which still left a chance, no matter if it was slim—to an utterly hopeless, zero chance. She rubbed the pain building behind her temples. What to do?
This wasn't fair to Trask. The whole reason she was here was to breed. It brought back an argument from early on.
“I want only your happiness.”
“That isn’t quite true... You also want to breed with me.”
He hadn’t denied her words. “That is my most fervent wish.”
Sadly, with her as his mate, his wish would never come true. He knew the odds were long, but that was when he only had interspecies breeding obstacles to overcome. Over the past few weeks, news of fated mates, which they thought impossible between two different species, and two, maybe three, pregnancies so soon, made everyone hopeful integration with humans would be more successful than they dared to imagine. But in her case, Trask had gotten far less than he bargained for by choosi
ng the dud in the lot of them.
Too bad after waiting twenty years, he hadn’t been patient a few weeks longer, when with nearly one hundred fifty more females in the database, and the thousands who would come under the new treaty, his odds would have been so much better.
Voices in the hall put her into a panic. She stared down at the report, the condemning word glaring back at her from the screen. Uploaded only minutes ago, no one knew except her. She made a split-second decision to remove the yellow flags which would bury the reports in hundreds of pages. Her fingers hovered over the tablet until she found the edit feature. Inside, she located the icon which would remove the flag, but she didn’t do it. Instead, she went a step further and deleted all the documentation from the hospitalization. Once done, she saved it and exited to the screen where she’d found it.
She took a step back, unsure what to do next. She had to think.
But first, she had to get out of there before she broke down. With tears rising in the back of her throat near to choking her, she rushed to the door and was out in the hall in a blink. She stopped short, seeing her captain with the commander. Lana frowned, noticing he had his arm around her waist. What had she missed while sick at home?
She looked for an escape path the other way, but Jarlan stood in a doorway, his back to her, conferring with another man in a black-and-white uniform. Torn between facing Jarlan who would steer her back to her room for more prodding—and stick her in a healing tube for an hour—or having to face her captain with tears threatening, she chose Maggie.
Dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve, she took several silent gulps of air. With her head down, she moved quickly, thankful for her nearly soundless soft soled shoes. Maybe if she didn’t make eye contact, she could scoot out the main doors without anyone noticing. She was a few feet from her goal, almost home free.
“Lana!”
Glancing up, she skidded to a halt, seeing she should have been watching because she’d almost run over top of them and would have if the commander hadn’t hauled Maggie out of the way.
Damn. Why couldn’t she catch a freakin’ break?
“Pardon me!” she exclaimed. “My fault entirely.”
“Is everything all right?” Maggie asked.
“Yes, why do you ask? Did someone say something?” Lana said this sharply, which wasn’t like her, especially with her captain who she respected. It was a sign of her barely controlled emotions; one Maggie wouldn’t miss.
And she didn’t, blinking in surprise before she replied. “No, but you seem preoccupied. Were you here to see the doctor?”
“Yes, only for a routine check, though,” she offered quickly. “They have been doing extra tests on the new mates.” Never good at lying, her face flushed hotly, and observant as always, Maggie’s eyes narrowed.
“I need to get back. Trask will be expecting me.” She blurted out this vague excuse before her captain could question her further.
Roth promptly blew holes in her story, however. “I spoke to the general earlier today. He didn’t expect to finish at the mine site until late tomorrow. Didn’t he advise you of this, Trask’s mate?”
“Her name is Lana, Roth,” Maggie offered.
He responded with a brief nod. “I’m surprised Trask was lax in letting you know his schedule; among mates, that is very important.”
And he did, always, not that it mattered. Most mates had to worry about prolonged separations, and the sickness that would inevitably come, unless they were like she and Trask, a borderline low percentile match. “We aren’t fated, not like Eva and the Princep, so I hear. We’ve been apart for a week without any ill effects.” She couldn’t keep the sadness from creeping into her voice as presented more proof they weren’t meant to be.
She glanced up at Roth. As they all were, the commander was beyond handsome. He had brown-black hair and light-purple eyes, not like her general at all, except for his tall, muscular build. His air of authority and commanding voice when he spoke were almost identical, however. Her gaze returned to Maggie. She was petite, no more than a few inches over five feet, but no matter her size, as a captain, she could be as intimidating as the big Primarian by her side. They were so different outwardly, but seemed to match, somehow. Lana couldn’t tell from Maggie’s eyes, now a stunning violet, if they were fated, but she had a nagging suspicion, like Eva and Kerr, Mailynn and Krager, and Thora and Vardax their bond was well above the 20th percentile. And, it was highly unlikely, another term she was growing to hate, that any of the other women had a trauma in their past that rendered them physically unable to breed.
The same went for half the Odyssey’s crew, one hundred and fifty fertile women who had decided to stay on. With the new treaty, an influx of more potential mates was on the horizon, more strong bonds, some fated would take place. And, more babies. How would she bear to watch? More importantly, how would Trask?
It wasn’t fair, to her, not to him, and not to the Primarian people who needed this integration to be fruitful to survive. If Trask had only waited a few weeks, he wouldn’t be stuck with a broken mate like her, and she would be going home tomorrow.
Her heart twisted painfully knowing what she must do.
“Are you certain something isn’t amiss, Lana? The doctors didn’t find anything wrong, did they?”
“Not a thing,” she lied, too quickly and with too bright a fake smile, evidently, because Maggie gave her an odd look. She changed the subject abruptly, which wouldn’t make her captain any less suspicious but she needed information to formulate a plan. “You leave for Earth soon, isn’t that right, Commander?”
“We leave at dawn.” He also appeared put off by her sudden mood shift.
She nodded, glancing back at Maggie, whose frown didn’t stop her from questioning Roth further. “And you’re taking two ships, leaving only one to guard all of Primaria?”
Please, say yes. If she could somehow be aboard the Odyssey in the morning, they wouldn’t leave their planet unprotected to chase after one borderline, breeding unlikely, subpar mate—surely.
“If you are worried, Trask and his army have sufficient ground forces and advanced weapons to ward off any threats, as well as scores of fighter craft who constantly patrol, in addition to a fully capable battlecruiser. We can launch fighters from the air or the ground, both of which can respond in a matter of seconds. You won’t be left unprotected.”
Crap. She bit back her rising hysteria, and disappointment. If she couldn’t follow through with her half-baked plan, what would she do? She needed more details.
“Thank you, sir. I was a bit concerned when I heard the other ship, the In—um... something or other, I don’t recall the name, and yet another, was in for repairs.”
“The Reliant returned to full service this morning, or we wouldn’t be leaving, I assure you. Under no circumstances would we leave our planet and people so vulnerable. And the Intrepid should arrive home in about a week, which will double your protection.”
“Good to know,” she replied with a forced smile.
What she really wanted to do was curl into a ball on the floor. Could she bring herself to do what she was thinking?
This was the time to go, when they weren’t at full force. The problem remained, however. How to get on board the Odyssey without anyone knowing? And with the most challenging obstacle out of the way, how did she stay hidden long enough so if she were discovered, it would be too late for them to turn back.
“Lana—” her captain began.
She had to get out of there quick. Any more Q&A and she'd have a meltdown. She needed to go somewhere and think, to plan, to soul search, and, if she was brave enough to go through with this drastic half-baked plan which was starting to take shape in her mind, to leave Trask. Did she love him enough to set him free so he could one day have all that he wanted?
“I won’t see you for quite a while, Maggie. Can I have a hug?” Lana enveloped her before she could answer, taking what little solace she could when her embrace was
returned.
If only I could go, too.
When she pulled away, she stiffened at the shocked look on her former captain’s face. Had she—?
No, she couldn’t have said it aloud.
Damn.
She had to go. Now!
“Bon voyage,” Lana said abruptly and whirled to leave. “I hate to run, but I remembered I’m late for something. Will you tell Jarlan for me?” She didn’t wait for a response, calling back over her shoulder as she reached the doors. “Best of luck with negotiations, Commander, and Captain.
As she left the clinic, she felt the heat of Maggie’s stunned gaze and Roth’s muttered, “She’s a bit odd.”
Lana wound her way through the downtown crowds, the hub around the capital center always busy. She wasn’t ready to go home yet, and with Trask not due back anytime soon, she didn’t have to. Besides, it would be the first place Adria looked, and she couldn’t face her again, and more pointless tests, not yet.
She walked for blocks until the crowds thinned. Near the edge of town, when the sidewalk ended, she climbed to the top of a small, grassy hill, taking a seat in the shade of a grouping of bright blue and yellow trees. Leaning her back against a trunk, she studied the two very different views her quiet refuge offered. The first, a picturesque panorama of Ariad and the mountains in the distance, and the other, the bustling shuttle port, nestled in a small valley amid rolling hills. She chose the latter, watching the aircraft come and go, carrying people to and from the city, and the world beyond the capital, she hadn’t had the chance to see.
Very rarely, a child would accompany the arrivals. There were so few amongst the dying race. From there her mind hopped to Mai and Thora, holding little dark-haired boys, or perhaps, blonde-haired girls like their mothers. Maggie’s child would have violet eyes, and Eva’s baby would have gold, her Princep mate’s genes being dominant, no doubt. It would be painful to visit her friends and see their joy. They’d be busy raising their families, while she would be... She couldn’t imagine what would occupy her days.
Without a career to fall back on, who would she be? She couldn’t go to work in the family business. Following Trask around on missions was out. Adria would be busy at the clinic. Where did that leave her?
Defying the General Page 18