Chapter 10
10
T he taste of Eira's lips still lingered in Maax's memory when V'Ash's strike sent him sprawling across the training mat. V'Ash's satisfied grunt told him he wouldn't live this down anytime soon.
"That's twice in two days," V'Ash observed, extending a hand to help him up. "The mighty Maax, laid low by courting?"
Maax accepted the assistance, muscles protesting as he regained his feet. His shoulder would bruise—V'Ash never pulled his strikes, even in practice. The training hall echoed with the sounds of sparring and the familiar rhythm of combat, but it did nothing to settle his wandering thoughts.
"Perhaps if you spent less time cataloging my supposed failings," Maax growled, settling back into a defensive stance, "you might land a third hit before the sun burns out."
V'Ash's grin widened as they circled each other. "Oh, so there are memories distracting you? Do tell."
"Focus on your form." Maax feinted left, testing V'Ash's guard. "Your right side is still open."
"My form is perfect," V'Ash countered, dancing away from Maax's probing strike. "Unlike your attempts at deflection. How was dinner?"
A flash of green eyes and soft lips filled Maax's mind. His defenses wavered for a fraction of a second—just long enough for V'Ash to slip past his guard again. This time Maax managed to keep his feet. Just.
"Draanth," he muttered, shaking his head to clear it. "Fine. Dinner was fine."
"'Fine' doesn't leave you walking into basic strikes like a first-year recruit," Aaran called across the training space as he and his partner paused their own match. "Come on, brother. Details!"
"Some of us are trying to train," Maax protested, but his heart wasn't in it. The memory of Eira's smile as she watched their children together warmed his chest.
"And some of us," V'Ash dropped his fighting stance, "are trying to hear about our lead engineer's courtship. Which is clearly going well, judging by that smirk on your face."
Maax realized he was smiling and schooled his features. But it was too late—the other warriors had caught the scent of gossip like krin on a hunt. They began to gather, their own sparring matches forgotten.
"Emily enjoyed herself?" Aaran asked in concern. He'd helped in the nursery enough to care about the answer.
"She and Grace became instantly inseparable," Maax admitted, giving up on maintaining any pretense of continuing training. "They spent an hour choosing the perfect ribbons for Red Dragon and Bear.”
"Grace is..." V'Ash prompted.
"Eira's youngest daughter. She's Emily's age." The warmth in his chest spread as he remembered the girls' excited chatter. "They met in the nursery."
"And the boys?" another warrior asked.
"Kyle has a good grasp of engineering principles." Pride colored his voice. "He understood the concept behind the environmental control systems as soon as I explained them. And Leo..." He paused. "Leo is protective. Always cautious."
"A warrior's instincts," V'Ash nodded in approval. "Looking after his siblings."
"Like someone else we know," Aaran added, shooting a glance at Maax. "But what about their mother? You can't expect us to believe you spent the whole evening discussing engineering with children."
Heat crept up Maax's neck as Eira's face filled his mind again—the way she'd looked in the restaurant's soft lighting, how her hand had felt in his, the taste of her lips when he'd kissed her...
"Draanth," V'Ash breathed. "Look at his face. Our mighty lead engineer is smitten."
"I am not—" Maax started to protest, but the words died in his throat. Who was he trying to fool? Her smile had haunted his dreams all night.
His wrist bracer chimed, engineering's emergency tone cutting through the warriors' laughter. The readout showed a power fluctuation in the medical bay's critical systems. His fingers moved to respond, but V'Ash knocked his hand away from the controls.
"Let R'akk handle it," V'Ash said. "He needs the experience."
"The medical bay?—"
"Has three layers of redundant systems that you personally designed." V'Ash's expression turned sly. "Besides, we haven't heard about the kiss yet."
Maax's head snapped up. "How did you?—"
"You keep touching your lips when you think no one's looking," Aaran smirked. "Like a love-struck adolescent after his first?—"
"It seems our Lead Engineer moves quick." The cold comment sliced through their banter. N'val, one of the younger warriors from the gortox training group, stepped into their circle. His expression carried none of the others' good humor. "First that teacher female, now a newly arrived candidate?"
The temperature in the training hall dropped. V'Ash and Aaran moved subtly, their stances widening as N'val continued.
"Some of us have waited months for a match," N'val snarled. "Yet you somehow draw the attention of two potential mates while qualified warriors remain alone?"
"Aisha was never a potential mate for me." Maax kept his voice level despite the anger building in his chest. "The program's protocols are clear?—"
"The protocols?" N'val spat. "She made her interest obvious. And now you cast her aside for some colony female with three children in tow?"
Maax took a step forward, every warrior instinct screaming for violence, but he forced his voice to remain steady. "Choose your next words carefully, warrior."
"Or what?" N'val's shoulders bunched with tension. "You'll demonstrate more of your supposed combat prowess? We all know your victories came from engineering tricks rather than true warrior skill."
Silence fell across the training hall. Even the most junior warriors knew questioning another's combat honors was a line not many dared to cross. V'Ash started to move forward, but Maax's arm shot out, blocking his path.
"Do you want to test that theory? Because I am. All. In." Maax rumbled dangerously. "Or would you prefer to apologize for insulting my match and her children?"
Uncertainty flickered across N'val's face for a moment. But frustration won out over wisdom. "I think?—"
"You think nothing," Maax cut him off. "You speak from bitterness and envy, questioning honors you have not earned and a matching process you barely understand." He stepped closer, using his height to full advantage. "But worst of all, you insult children. Are you so lost that you would mock innocent offspring?"
N'val's cheeks flushed. Several warriors had drifted closer, their expressions hard as they waited for his response. Questioning combat honors was one thing, but disparaging children violated something fundamental to their very nature.
"I..." N'val's jaw worked for a moment before he stiffened. "I challenge you to prove your worth in combat."
A gasp swept through the gathered warriors. Maax felt rather than saw V'Ash and Aaran exchange worried glances. They knew what N'val didn't—that Maax's combat honors hadn't come from engineering tricks.
"Very well." Maax stepped back, rolling his shoulders to loosen them. "First blood or yield."
The training circle widened as warriors moved to give them space. N'val dropped into an aggressive stance, his youth and frustration evident in every tense line of his body. Maax waited, center of gravity low, position perfect.
N'val struck first, as Maax knew he would. The younger warrior's attack came fast and brutal—a combination that would have laid out a less experienced opponent. But Maax had earned his honors against enemies who didn't play by any rules.
He moved like lightning, deflecting N'val's strikes with an economy of motion that made the younger warrior look clumsy. Each attack met empty air or precisely positioned blocks designed to drain N'val's energy.
"You fight like you speak," Maax said as they circled. "All passion, no control."
N'val snarled and launched another assault. This time Maax didn't just deflect—he countered. His first strike slipped past N'val's guard as if it didn't exist. The second followed before the younger warrior could recover. The third put N'val on the mat, the breath driven from his lungs.
"Your match will come." Maax stood over him. "But not if you let bitterness poison you."
He extended his hand. For a long moment, N'val just stared at it, chest heaving. Then, slowly, he reached up and clasped Maax's forearm.
"I..." N'val swallowed hard as Maax pulled him to his feet. "I apologize for my words about your match and her children. They were unworthy of a warrior."
Maax nodded once, accepting the apology. "When I first came to the station," he said, pitching his voice so the gathered warriors could hear, "I had no thought of finding a match. My focus was engineering, combat, duty. But the algorithms know what they do. Trust in them. Trust in your own worth."
"And perhaps," V'Ash added dryly, "spend less time comparing your path to others and more time preparing to be worthy of your own match when they arrive."
"I would be honored," N'val said formally, "if you would show me that combination you just used. I've never seen anything like it."
The tension in the training hall broke. Warriors called out questions about the technique, moving to pair up and practice. N'val's challenge transformed into a training session, with Maax and his friends demonstrating the moves that had proven so effective.
"You see," Maax explained, guiding N'val through the counter-strike sequence, "the key is to?—"
His wrist bracer chimed again. But this time, it was a cascade failure alert. The readout made his blood run cold. Power fluctuations were spreading through the medical bay's auxiliary systems, threatening the critical care units.
"Draanth." He straightened, already calculating failure vectors in his head. "I need to go."
"Go." V'Ash clasped his shoulder. "We'll finish up here."
"Though don't think we're done discussing your courtship," Aaran called after him as Maax headed for the door. "I want to hear more about this kiss that's got you walking into basic strikes!"
"Perhaps he'll actually land a hit on someone tomorrow," another warrior suggested, "instead of mooning over his mate like a love-struck adolescent."
"I do not moon," Maax growled over his shoulder, but his hand betrayed him by rising to touch his lips again.
The warriors' laughter followed him into the corridor. His wrist bracer blinked with urgent messages from his engineering team, but his mind kept drifting to Eira. To their dinner, to the way she'd felt in his arms, to the promise of seeing her again...
He forced his thoughts back to the crisis at hand. The medical bay needed his full attention, not daydreams about soft lips and green eyes. Though perhaps, once the situation was resolved, he could stop by the nursery. Emily would want to see Grace again, after all. And if Eira happened to be there...
His wrist bracer chimed again.
"Yes, yes," he muttered, lengthening his stride. But he couldn't quite suppress his smile.
He had a feeling his friends would never let him live this down. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care.
The antiseptic smell of the medical bay made Eira's nose twitch. After years of mineral-sharp colony air, the sterile environment felt almost too clean. She shifted in the chair beside Kyle's bed, metal creaking under her weight. The bed itself could have held three of her son. Everything here was sized for warriors much larger than humans.
Her fingers found the rough calluses on her palms. The past twenty-four hours felt like a dream: dinner with Maax, his gentle way with the children, and that kiss that still warmed her cheeks. But reality pressed in now as she watched her son fidget on the massive bed. His breathing sounded steady today, but she'd learned not to trust good days. Too often, they turned into bad nights.
She glanced at the monitoring equipment surrounding them. The devices here made the colony's medical equipment look like kids’ toys. A display above Kyle's head showed his vital signs in what she assumed was Latharian script. Her translation matrix couldn't help her with reading, but she could guess what they said... heart rate, blood oxygen, lung capacity. They all seemed to be steady for now.
"The scanner feels weird," Kyle announced, wrinkling his nose. "Like tiny bubbles under my skin."
She was about to respond when heavy footsteps approached. Healer Kellat filled the doorway, his massive frame making the treatment bay feel much smaller.
"Good morning, Lady Coleman." His deep voice carried that slight accent all the warriors seemed to have when speaking Terran. At least, she thought he was speaking Terran. With the matrix implanted, it was hard to tell. Silvery strands like liquid mercury in his braids caught the light as he moved to check the readings, reminding her that he wasn't human. "I see the preliminary scans are complete. The results are... quite interesting."
Her stomach clenched. In her experience, doctors saying 'interesting' meant expensive treatment. "Is something wrong?"
"Not wrong, no." Kellat's fingers moved through the holographic display with practiced efficiency, pulling data streams into new configurations on the screen in front of him. "We've isolated the root cause. Your son's condition stems from a genetic combination, a trait you and your late mate both carried. Harmless on their own, but put together..." He gestured, and a complex DNA model materialized between them, spinning in the air.
Kyle sat up straighter, distracted from his nervousness by the shifting display. "What are those red parts?"
"Those indicate the affected gene sequences." Kellat zoomed in on a particular section. "In most humans, these remain inactive. But you inherited a copy from each parent. Combined with the environmental conditions on your colony—particularly the high mineral content in the dust—it created the perfect circumstances for Kyle’s condition to manifest."
She leaned forward, her mind latching onto the technical details. This was the first time anyone had explained the mechanics of Kyle's illness. The colony doctors had just thrown medication at the symptoms, more concerned with billing than healing. She studied the rotating DNA model. Biology might not be her specialty, but she understood systems.
"The dust storms," she said, putting the pieces together. "Every time one hit, his breathing got worse for days after."
"Precisely." Kellat nodded, his expression warming. "The mineral particles triggered an inflammatory response in his compromised lung tissue. Most humans can process such irritants but with this genetic combination..."
The memory made her bite her lip... Kyle when he was six, struggling to breathe after a series of bad storms. The colony's environmental controls had failed again, letting orange dust seep through every crack. She'd wrapped him in damp cloths, trying to filter his air while they waited hours for emergency services to respond. They'd almost lost him that night. Even now, years later, she remembered the terror...
"There were times..." Her voice caught, but she held it steady. She prided herself on never breaking down in front of her kids, and she wasn't going to start now.
"The medication didn't help. The doctors kept increasing the dose, but nothing seemed to work properly."
"That's because they were treating symptoms without understanding the cause." Kellat manipulated the display again, bringing up what looked like cellular imagery. "See these patterns? The medication suppressed the inflammation but couldn't address the underlying genetic sensitivity. And with the environment, Kyle's system was constantly being triggered into these inflammatory responses. Each exposure created more damage, making subsequent reactions worse."
Kyle squinted at the display. "Is that why my chest always feels tight? Because of the red parts in my DNA?"
"In simple terms, yes." Kellat's fingers traced a pattern in the air, and the display shifted to show lung tissue. "Your DNA tells me that your lungs react very strongly to certain particles. Things that wouldn't bother most humans cause your airways to become inflamed. Think of it like an alarm system set too high; it responds to threats that aren't really dangerous."
Eira watched the display cycle through different views of Kyle's affected tissue. Her technical training helped her follow the basic principles, but the complexity of it made her head spin. All those nights she'd spent researching treatments, trying to understand why nothing seemed to help enough... and here was the answer, floating in the air in front of her.
"I've seen similar mechanisms in other species," Kellat continued, his clinical tone softening as he noticed Kyle's wide-eyed attention. "The Tavkronian miners, for instance, sometimes develop comparable sensitivities to certain mineral compounds. Though their genetic structures are quite different, the principle is similar... their bodies overreact to environmental triggers."
The comparison seemed to interest Kyle. "There are other aliens who can't breathe dust too?"
"Indeed. Though they're much larger than you, and their horns tend to get in the way of breathing masks." Kellat grinned, surprising a small laugh from Kyle. She bit back her smile. He wasn't used to doctors actually talking to him and treating him as a person.
"Now," Kellat straightened, calling up a new set of displays, "let's talk about what we can do about it." His fingers moved through the data streams with practiced efficiency. "I think we need to take a dual approach. What that means, Kyle, is that we need to correct the DNA issue that's causing you to be sensitive to dust, and give you some medication to repair what's already been done to your lungs. How does that sound? Lady Coleman, do you agree?"
A treatment schedule materialized in the air, dates and procedures laid out in precise detail. Her breath caught as she studied it... she couldn't even begin to work out how much it would cost. Back on the colony, even basic treatments had stretched their resources to breaking point.
"How much will it be?" she started carefully, fingers twisting in her lap. "I don't want to burden Maax with?—"
Kellat's head tilted, confusion flickering across his features. "Cost?"
"For the treatment," she clarified. "The colony doctors said his condition was permanent, that he'd need treatment his whole life. I can't expect Maax to take on that kind of..."
"Ohh!" Understanding dawned in Kellat's eyes, followed by amusement. "I'm sorry, Lady Coleman, I wasn't clear. Once we correct the genetic markers and repair the environmental damage, Kyle won't need long-term care."
The words didn't make sense. She just stared at the alien doctor. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Kellat said, "that after about two months of treatment, Kyle should be clear of symptoms. Cured, as humans say."
"Cured?" Her voice cracked. "But they said... they told us..."
Tears spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them as years of fear and guilt and desperate midnight bargaining with the universe crashed through her carefully maintained walls. Kyle would be cured. Her baby boy would be able to breathe without struggling, run without wheezing, and live without medical debt hanging over him.
"Mom?" Kyle reached out; his small hand found hers. "Why are you crying?"
She tried to speak but couldn't form words. Kyle clambered off the treatment bed onto her lap and wrapped his arms around her.
"I apologize," Kellat shifted awkwardly. "I'm not... that is, with human emotions, I'm never quite sure of the protocols. Would you like me to call anyone?"
"No." She wiped at her eyes with her free hand, one arm tight around Kyle. "No, I'm fine. Sorry. We never thought... the colony doctors were so certain..."
"Ah." Kellat's expression hardened a little. "Yes, well, their equipment was quite primitive by our standards. And without understanding the genetic component..." He trailed off, but his opinion of the colony's medical care was clear in his tone.
Kyle looked up at the healer, his arms still around his mother. "So I'll be able to breathe properly like other kids do?"
"Better than properly," Kellat assured him. "Once we finish the treatment course, your lung function should exceed standard human parameters. The genetic correction improves overall respiratory efficiency."
Fresh tears threatened, but Eira fought them back. She had more questions about the treatment, about what to expect. She knew she should focus and ask questions to understand everything. But just for a moment, she let herself hold her son and feel the full weight of the miracle they'd been given.
"The first treatment cycle will take around two hours," Kellat said, giving her time to compose herself. "During that time, we can discuss any questions you have." He paused, studying her with knowing eyes. "Perhaps about the mate program? Or certain warriors?"
Heat crept up her neck. "Is it that obvious?"
"Maax is... well-known on the station." His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. "And you're not the first prospective mate to have questions."
"Well-known?" She kept her tone casual as Kyle settled back on the treatment bed. "In what way?"
"He's one of our most decorated warriors." Kellat began preparing the treatment equipment with precise movements. "From an old bloodline, very respected. And his work with the station's systems is exceptional." A slight smile crossed his face. "Though lately he's better known for his dedication to Emily. The change in him since he took her in... many warriors have commented on it."
"What kind of change?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.
"He was always... serious. Focused on duty above all else." Kellat's hands moved steadily through the treatment preparations. "But with Emily... she brought out something different in him. A gentleness few knew he possessed."
Eira thought of Maax's tender way with the children at dinner, how his severe expression had softened when Emily and Grace played together. "He seems like a good father."
"One of the best I've seen." Kellat nodded. "Which is why?—"
A commotion in the corridor cut him off. A woman's voice carried through the treatment bay doors, sharp with command.
"I need to see Lead Healer Kellat immediately! No, it can't wait. I'm feeling quite faint and—oh!"
The curtain to the bay was shoved aside to reveal a human woman in expensive clothing. Eira recognized her instantly. Aisha, the one who'd been so concerned about warriors' status. She looked perfectly healthy, though she pressed one hand to her forehead dramatically.
"Lead Healer, I must insist on your personal attention. These other healers don't understand the seriousness of my condition."
Kellat's expression didn't change, but something in his stance suggested resignation as he looked back at Eira. "My apologies, Lady Coleman. I need to address this... situation. The treatment cycle is automated, but I'll return to check on Kyle's progress."
"Of course." Eira smiled, noting how Aisha's gaze sharpened at her title. "We'll be fine."
Kyle waited until the curtain swished shut before speaking. "That lady wasn't really sick, was she?"
"No, sweetheart." Eira smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "I don't think she was."
Her datapad chimed on the bed next to Kyle's leg, and a message from Maax lit up the screen: Emily hasn't stopped talking about Grace all morning. She’s looking forward to the sleepover with Emily tonight. I can’t wait to see you tonight.
Warmth bloomed in her chest as she typed a quick reply. They had two more hours of treatment ahead, but for once, waiting didn't feel like a burden.
Not with the promise of a cure for Kyle, and another evening with Maax to anticipate.