by Celia Kyle
A fern hovered nearby, brushing her cheek. She smiled, running her finger lightly along the base of the leaf. She didn’t need to know everything. It was enough to know this fern liked a lot of sunlight and water, that it produced a pain-killing compound, and that it had the potential to sharpen the nervous system.
That last part wasn’t generally accepted knowledge and couldn’t be found in a textbook, but it was one of those things Dawn simply knew to be true. She performed her own experiments and created new infusions every day, though she wished for a better lab with precise instruments and high-tech equipment. Even though she knew it was useless, she also sometimes wished for her brain to be just a little quicker, so she could work faster and without so many mistakes.
When she had been planning her future, she had been determined to lead the field in botany and chemistry. She still hoped she might do something to change the world of botanical cultivation forever, but that was unlikely while she stayed hiding in her parents’ greenhouse. She was useful here and it was one of the biggest nurseries in the world, but the expansions were limited to which plants made the most money.
They handled supplies for Daven Cole Pharma, distilling the compounds that were used in every kind of medicine they produced. She knew she could improve the chemicals—make them stronger, more refined—especially if she modified the plants from the first shoots. She could singlehandedly make over the world of pharmaceuticals if she could just have one day without a blinding headache and a bit more freedom in what she grew and produced.
“An upgrade of memory receptors wouldn’t hurt,” she muttered angrily. The nearby fern reached out and stroked her cheek. It made her feel better, but she was still frustrated over losing her train of thought.
Every day was a struggle for her. As hard as her family tried to look after her, Dawn was failing. Something in her heart was keening at the unfairness of her disability and all the things she couldn’t do. The simplest of joys were tainted by the pain and weakness that hung over her like a guillotine.
The plants rustled around her and she stayed still and quiet, letting them dissipate her heavy thoughts. It was much easier to let go of everything and drift aimlessly through her own mind without trying to remember or worrying about what she might have forgotten. As she always did in these situations, she focused on the simple tasks. The basic sensations that throbbed through her as she completed her work trained her mind back to the present moment, which was the only one she had.
Chapter Three
Vende
Tension filled Vende’s shoulder as he paced the hallway of the ship. Mornings had been busy ever since he joined the fleet, but today was not a pleasant hustle.
Taulan, War Master, was never around. When he did appear, he would almost immediately vanish again. The atmosphere on the ship ranged from a tense silence to a carefree, party type feel. It grated against Vende, this light mood.
We are supposed to be a military unit, he thought with some annoyance.
Perhaps the other Preor were starting to see this as a holiday. Mates were being found and pleasure platforms were being erected for this human vay-cay-shon. Add to that some really mischievous dragonlets that set everyone on fire, and it became never-ending chaos.
Kozav and Rendan made it to their stations at a decent hour, so Vende was able to go and do his job as engineering master. There were always repairs to be done and systems to improve. Vende found it easy to lose himself in the simplicity of it all. Machinery was simple and easy to understand, unlike other beings.
After crawling through a few ducts to fix switchboards, he headed out to check on productivity around the ship. Kozav had vanished by then, so with some frustration he went to check on the Preor currently in training.
He found most of them in a training room, used specifically for hand-to-hand techniques when they wanted to focus on tactics without the brute force of their dragon behind them. He was pleased they were running exercises on their own, but Kozav should be there.
“Penelope, locate Kozav,” Vende snapped as he left the training room.
“You never say ‘please,’ Vende.”
He ground his teeth together, fighting not to roll his eyes. “Please, Penelope. Locate Kozav.”
“He’s in the lab. Would you like me to teleport you?”
“Yes,” he snarled.
There was a pause, and nothing happened.
“Yes, please, Penelope!” Vende almost let loose with a string of Preor expletives but managed to hold then in as Penelope transported him.
When he arrived at the door to the lab, he could hear others speaking through the door panels. Their voices were raised and anxious, and he knew before he even strode in that something was very wrong. He wanted to yell at Kozav for not taking the young soldiers on a proper lesson, but the tone of the room made him hold back.
“I don’t know what to do, Kozav.” Grace’s voice was high and full of tension. Vende had never heard the female this worried about anything.
“Don’t know what to do about what?” He spoke as he came through the doors and pushed past a set of high plants to join the group.
The lab’s occupants—Kozav, his mate Grace, and Carla—looked to him suddenly, as if startled. Vende frowned. What was going on here?
“I didn’t see you come in,” Carla said. “What can we do for you, Vende?”
“I came for Kozav,” he said carefully. “I wanted him to run a proper exercise for the troops instead of letting them run wild.” He shot Kozav a hard look.
“They’re working on their moves. Aren’t they?” Kozav huffed.
“The majority are on the wrestling mat, yes. But not all—”
“Look, Vende,” Kozav cut him off. “We do not have time for that issue right now. I know you feel like you must run everything, especially with the others being out of their positions for so long but be cool. This is more important.”
“I do not wish to be cold,” Vende said in a harsh tone. He knew “cool” was an Earth term, but its definition seemed to change so much, how could he possibly grasp every inflection? Never mind the fact that Kozav had just split his focus by mentioning the disintegrating command chain. Yes, Vende felt oppressed by having to do everyone else’s work, but he also liked being in charge. It was a fine line he strode upon.
Kozav shook his head. “Grace, will you explain please?”
She sighed, looking at the vial in her hand and frowning. “We have been trying to set up a small garden here for a long time. Some chemical compounds are manufactured by the Preor, things that have come from your planet. We brought pharmaceuticals from Earth but Healing Master Whelon said they weren’t compatible. Even with both of us working on it, we can’t manufacture Preor medicine with Earth ingredients.”
“Does that mean we will run out of supply?” Vende’s voice was filled with his disbelief.
Grace nodded. “Yes, it does. What we have been trying to do in this lab is create hybrid plants that will produce the right base chemicals. Whelon and Yazen both agree that by splicing and inter-pollination, we can grow new species of plants that will produce the compounds we need. All we have to do is get them to grow, process them and build the chemicals from scratch.”
“So, what is the problem?” It sounded simple enough to Vende.
“The plants keep dying!” Carla cried, unable to stay silent. She gestured at a nearby tree. It was about as tall as she was and the leaves were a hideous, wilted yellow. The bark on the trunk was covered in pale brown patches. As he watched, a dead leaf fell from the branch and fluttered to the ground.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Grace muttered, almost to herself. “It’s not like I’ve ever been a gardener in my life, but I do understand how things grow. My splicing experiments do well at first but then they sicken and die.”
“What about down on Kouvai Nihon?” The platform’s new name grated but Vende would use it since he was speaking with humans.
“The gardens
down there are beautiful,” Carla said, a little wistfully. “Some of the what we need is growing there, but the spliced plants won’t grow anywhere—no matter the location.”
“We’re running out of time.” Grace ran a hand through her hair. “Painkillers, antibiotics, wound dressings. All the wonderful things Whelon needs to keep you guys healthy. It’s running out. If we get any kind of contagion in here…”
Vende’s heart thumped angrily into his throat as he worried for every Preor on the ship. Resources were not something he normally thought about much. He simply assumed things would be replaced, and any supply issues were someone else’s problem.
Now everything seems to be my problem.
“Penelope,” he barked at the ceiling, sharply. “What is happening in this garden?”
“Unfortunately, this is beyond my skills, Vende.” She truly sounded regretful. “I can only provide the atmospheric conditions that are programmed into me. UV rays, water hardness, soil density, photosynthesis… I would have to be able to feel the room and the plants to correct the problem.”
“I’ve already tried putting samples through the computer for Penelope to analyze,” Carla interjected. “She gets too many variables to choose the perfect atmospheric conditions.”
Vende rubbed his chin, thinking about the problem. When he saw Rendan approach he was relieved. Not only were these two up and around for the morning tasks they were coming to the lab to address the real problem. Even though he loved being in charge, Vende didn’t want to bear this kind of catastrophe alone.
“Any changes to the situation?” Rendan spoke as he joined the group. “You were going to try a higher oxygen density. Correct?”
“Yes.” Grace put down her vial and moved to a terminal. “The spliced lilies died pretty much straight away. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Rendan looked over at Vende and they shared a look. This was bad. At the moment, the situation was not critical, but one Preor with scale pox could change the situation overnight.
“Why did we not bring our own plants?” Fury tinged Vende’s words. “Did the medical team think of that?”
“Yes, they did.” Kozav’s wings rustled with his frustration. “Do you realize how many Preor have been in and out of that med bay in the time we have been in Earth’s orbit? So many of us have been hurt or had to be vaccinated against side effects they developed on the surface of the planet. The plants were in stasis for most of the trip, but even with our artificial atmosphere, they died. It is like they needed to be on Preor to flourish.”
Vende pulled a hand through his dark blue hair, thinking of the nightmare of scale pox affecting his ship, or another attack that left them injured and unable to recover. He could see the other two Preor warriors doing the exact same calculations.
One wrong turn could devastate the Preor population.
“It’s no good.” Grace shook her head, looking from the computer terminal to the dying plants. “We have to go to Earth and find an expert. I’m really at the end of my rope here.”
“Rope?” Vende queried and looked around, seeing no rope in Grace’s hands. No one answered him and he scowled. He did not know what was worse, falling into one of those traps and having it explained to him, or being ignored. Now he would never understand where the rope was located or why being at the end of it was a bad thing. He hoped no one tripped over the rope later.
“Me too.” Carla’s voice was strung tightly with tension. “I can’t do this another day. It’s almost like being in the ER again. No matter how hard we try, the plants just keep dying.”
“Organize a trip to the surface,” Vende decided. “Go as soon as you can. I’m sure you can find an expert.”
“Yeah, I’ll do some searching.” Grace pulled out her phone.
“We can have Preor search from the sky, if that would be easier,” Vende offered.
“No.” Grace chuckled softly as she swept across the screen with a nimble hand. “I’ll let my fingers do the walking.”
Vende opened his mouth and frowned. Penelope giggled and his eyebrows shot straight up. He had almost fallen into another language trap. He decided to leave before the humans threw out any more incomprehensible sayings.
“Take anything you need from supply,” he ordered as he left the room. “And pray to the stars we can solve this,” he whispered under his breath.
Because if they could not synthesize the compounds they needed, they would have only one option.
To return to Preor.
Chapter Four
Dawn was tired and sweat was running down her sides. Her short, neat bob was twisted into curls against her neck. The temperature in the greenhouse grew throughout the day. Cooling systems in place kept the room within certain parameters, but when the sun was hot on the glass roof, parts of the place heated up until it felt as if she were in a sauna. She was thirsty and short of breath from moving plants between the shop and the nursery, but she wasn’t ready to stop yet.
She always felt as if she was trying to prove she was like everyone else. She knew she wasn’t and that pushing herself too hard would result in headaches, nausea or both. Pushing too hard always led to her getting sick or sometimes even passing out.
Dawn gritted her teeth and wrapped her arms around a large pot, carrying it toward the main floor. The spiky leaves and vibrant flowers waved at her and she felt somewhat better with their caress. When she brought the large bush to the counter for her customer, and the woman’s smile banished Dawn’s exhaustion entirely.
“It’s just what I’ve been looking for!” she exclaimed. “A sweet vanilla jasmine tree. My hummingbirds will love it.”
“Can you send me some pictures?” She immediately thought of the pretty show the birds would make when they came to feed.
“Better yet, post it on our social media site,” her brother called from the other end of the counter.
“I will.” The woman beamed. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave you a good review, too!”
Dawn smiled politely, not really caring about reviews. Today’s rush was a perfect example of how popular their products were. She much preferred quiet days when she could contemplate things as she went through her routines.
She rang up the sale and called up another employee to help the woman to her car. Even though the sweat trails raced down her sides again and the pace was making her lightheaded, she smiled with real enthusiasm for her next customer. She never got tired of listening to people, or plants, for that matter.
The woman dumped a pot on the counter. It contained a tall, brown stalk and lots of spindly appendages that were covered in little fans of spikes.
“Oh, it’s a comfrey.” Dawn reached out and touched it gently, careful not to let the spikes stick to her. “What can I do for you?”
“Well!” The woman slammed her hands on the table and stared firmly at Dawn. Dawn jumped in surprise. She had been talking to the plant, not the woman carrying the container.
In a way, even as her gaze strayed to the woman, she still talked with the plant. Her fingertips brushed its dry branches and the noise of the shop drifted away. The woman was speaking loudly—probably explaining her issue with the plant—but Dawn couldn’t hear anything over the whisper of the leaves.
“She’s thirsty,” Dawn said absently. “Stalk and branches are dry.”
“I give it Epsom salts, soil enhancers, water holding beads. She’s barely staying alive!”
Dawn looked at her calmly. “Have you tried just plain water? They don’t need enhancements all the time.”
The woman frowned. “I never thought of that.”
Dawn nodded. “Comfrey is very easy to grow. It takes time to start but once it takes off, it’s hard to stop. All you have here is seeds.” She brushed the prickly tips.
“How do I get the leaves to come through? I want to use them in a poultice.”
Dawn gestured to a nearby bench where people were trimming their plants under the guidance of one of her brothers. “J
ust head over there and a specialist will give you a lesson in pruning. Has this plant been shedding spikes?”
“Yes. I get them all over me and brush them off before I go in the house.”
Dawn giggled. “You may end up with more comfrey that you can handle! Have a good day, ma’am.”
She waved the lady off and got ready to serve her next customer. She was still tired and hot but figured she could go on a bit longer without a break.
Then something happened that infused her with excitement. She forgot the heat, the shop, her aching muscles, the pain in her head… All she could do was stare.
Two beautiful women had walked in, striding through the nursery with determination and purpose. They were striking and out of place enough to draw the eye, but what paralyzed Dawn was what followed them.
Preor.
Dawn had heard of the aliens and seen them on TV but had never actually seen one in the flesh before.
As they approached the counter, her hand fluttered up and she shuffled toward them. Her eyes were focused on their colors—their vibrant hair, glowing bronze skin and… Wings.
Wow. Wings!
She didn’t even realize she was moving as she crept closer. Before she knew it, she was very close to a Preor, gaze filled with the vibrant scales down his back and the long spines that held the wing membranes.
She reached out in wonder and ran her fingertip along the hard edge of the wing nearest to her. The Preor let out a strangled cry that might have been a scream and jumped before whirling to face her. Dawn did scream and jumped as well, almost falling over.
“I’m sorry!” she cried, wrapping her arms around herself and bowing her head. The Preor she had touched glared at her with angry eyes, but as soon as he saw her, he softened.