Chapter 6
ARDRUC
Everything about Elena Regis set my teeth on edge, from how she hummed as she worked to the dreamy way she gazed at everything from fungi specimens to clouds and falling leaves and even the massive upper-atmospheric phenomena I had dedicated my life to studying.
I knew her credentials—knew every detail of them, in fact—and had read every paragraph of her published work.
She was not a true scientist. Her mind did not work like mine.
It was not clockwork. It was a tangled patch of forest undergrowth: wild, undisciplined, and uncontained.
Personally and professionally, she was utterly incomprehensible to me.
So why the hells did my hearts race and my blood ignite whenever I caught her scent? Why did I need her as much as I needed air to breathe and food to eat?
And how could I get her to leave the station permanently so I could focus on my work again?
The days she spent in the field were a welcome respite and a chance to regain my equilibrium. I dreaded her returns. No, that was not quite true. I both dreaded them and yearned for them, and truly I could not determine which emotion dominated the other.
Still, I chose to be waiting on the station’s rooftop landing pad when Elena returned from her foraging trip.
She had reported being injured. Perhaps she needed assistance getting down to the medical bay.
I might prefer to keep my distance, but the title of director of research came with responsibilities to those who lived and worked here.
There was no one else to help her but me.
Dr. Rg had departed a month ago, having had their fill of my foul moods.
The small transport arrived after nightfall. I stayed well clear of the landing dampers and thrusters until the engines shut off. A few moments later, the transport’s side hatch raised, revealing Elena and her faithful companion. Forux spotted me first and, as usual, growled.
Elena’s left ankle and foot were encased in an emergency medical wrap. Her dirty jumpsuit, a dozen cuts and bruises, and the leaves in her hair testified to the extent of her fall. The sight of her injuries and her pallor made my stomach hurt.
She slid her backpack to the doorway at the top of the ramp and looked up as I approached. Clearly exasperated, she blew hair that had come loose from her braid out of her face. Her long hair seemed entirely impractical given her love of field work.
Usually her eyes sparkled more than a true scientist’s would, as if she found more joy than quantifiable knowledge in fungi.
I saw no sign of that sparkle at the moment.
Instead, I read profound disquiet in her eyes and the set of her jaw.
Because of her injury, or her late arrival? Or for another reason?
Using a tree branch for support, Elena straightened in the doorway. “Is there a problem?” she asked, her tone icy and more than a little strained.
“Do you need assistance?” I stopped at the bottom of the ramp. “This ramp is very steep, and I am sure you are in pain.”
Unlike me, Elena rarely hid her emotions under a clinician’s calm facade. A myriad of reactions crossed her face: irritation, confusion, anger…and then her eyes narrowed, as if she suspected my motives for offering assistance.
“I made it halfway up a mountain,” she said shortly. “I’m sure I can get down a little ramp.”
I found myself caught between two polar reactions to her dismissal: the desire to return to my lab and leave her to struggle, and the need to carry her to the medical bay and tend to her injury, though she was clearly capable of walking.
With effort, I unclenched my jaw and stilled my swishing tail. “I offer to carry your pack, then. Surely that would be the logical choice.”
Her glare did not diminish, but her shoulders slumped, as if she had resigned herself to agreeing.
“Fine,” she said with a sigh. And then, grudgingly, she added, “Thank you.”
When I picked up her pack, I estimated its weight to be nearly twenty kilograms. That was nothing to me, but twenty kilos was more than twenty percent of her body weight. She had climbed a steep slope wearing this on her back with a broken ankle? My chest rumbled. Forux growled again.
“He’ll be careful with it,” Elena said soothingly. Apparently she had misinterpreted Forux’s snarl for concern that I might drop her pack or heave it over the edge of the roof out of spite.
Elena bit her lip and started down the ramp, steadying herself with the branch. Every time she wobbled, my fingers twitched and my feathers ruffled.
She let out a sigh when she reached the bottom of the ramp. “Back on solid ground,” she murmured.
To my sensitive nose, Elena’s familiar scent was tinged with the sharp, metallic notes of pain and unhappiness. My wings fluttered uneasily. I stilled them and folded them behind my back.
Slowly, we made our way from the landing pad to the lift entrance. Forux walked between Elena and I, watching me warily for reasons I did not understand. I had never posed a physical threat to her, but perhaps his concern was heightened by her injury.
“Was your trip successful?” I asked.
Elena glanced at me. Her jaw was set, and she was doing her best to disguise a wince with each step.
“I don’t know what you would consider successful,” she said, her tone still frosty.
After a beat, she added, “I may have discovered a new order of fungi. I’ll know for sure when I get it to the lab.
” Despite her obvious discomfort, her eyes lit up with a hint of that familiar sparkle. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”
Fungi were orders of magnitude less interesting to me than the korae phenomena of Hyderia, but as a scientist I understood both the importance of the find and her pride in the discovery.
Elena had applied to the Nyvoran government to extend her stay at the station. Yet another discovery on top of those she had already made would increase the likelihood of their approval. The prospect both thrilled me and filled me with despair.
“Congratulations on your find,” I said, my tone carefully neutral. I activated the roof doors. As they slid aside, revealing the lift’s interior, I added, “Or a conditional congratulations, pending closer examination of the specimen.”
“Thank you.” She hobbled into the lift. Forux followed, and I entered last, ducking through the doorway.
As the doors closed, I turned to place my palm on the scanner that would admit us into the facility. My wing brushed Elena’s arm. “Pardon me,” I said.
She moved to the opposite side of the lift. Forux put himself between us once more.
“This thing wasn’t designed for Fortusians, was it?” Elena forced a ghost of a smile. “Or at least, not for a Fortusian plus anyone else.”
“It was not,” I agreed.
She blinked at me. Only when the lift began its descent did I realize that was one of the very few times we had agreed on anything.
When the doors opened, she let out another, much deeper sigh and stepped out into the corridor.
“Thank all the gods above and below, it’s good to be back. I’m off to the medical bay to put myself back together.” She held out her hand. “I’ll take my pack now.”
The most logical thing for me to do would be to hand it over and return to my own lab, where a mountain of data from last night’s atmospheric events awaited my examination.
Instead, I found myself gesturing in the direction of the medical bay. “I will accompany you.” At her frown, I said, “It is not too great an imposition to ensure you have everything you need.”
Truly, I was not sure which of us was more bemused at my offer to help.
“Suit yourself,” she said finally.
In the medical bay, Elena limped to the diagnostic bed. It lowered automatically to accommodate her height. She leaned her walking stick against the wall and sat with a sigh of relief. Forux jumped onto the bed and sat beside her. She scratched his head.
I set her pack on the counter and picked up a medical scanner. I located the osteorepair device and an analgesic patch and brought all three items to the bed.
“Thanks for your help.” She gestured at the bed to her right and reached for the medical wrap on her lower left leg. “You can just put them there.” Her tone was dismissive.
When I hesitated, she frowned. “I’m fine from here. You’ve already gone well above and beyond your duties as the DR. When my ankle’s healed, I’ll let you know so you can add that to your notes.”
The bitterness in her statement and the way her jaw clenched revealed how deeply my choice of words in my earlier communication had upset her. I very nearly flinched and had to still my facial expression to hide my reaction.
I wanted to stay and ensure she recovered from her injury, but I could not tell her why without giving myself away.
I had so carefully avoided allowing my concern about her fall to show in my tone or words.
I wanted her to remain alienated from me, did I not?
I wanted her to be angry so perhaps she would retract her application to extend her stay and return to Fyloria or leave for some other planet to study its fungi.
I did not want to be distracted by her beauty or brilliance, or give in to the yearning in my hearts.
I had work to do. But with every day that passed, my resolve fractured more.
When she was within reach and her scent wrapped around me, I felt damn near helpless to stand firm against a call that went deeper than my bones.
I focused on the harshness of her tone instead of the way pain shone in her eyes because her suffering made me irrationally angry and protective.
“Please keep me informed on your status,” I said. “My practice is to keep detailed and complete notes.”
“So is mine.” Elena picked up the medical scanner, calibrated it for a human, and passed it over her left ankle. She held up the scanner’s screen for my inspection. “Simple fracture of the lateral malleolus. A half-hour’s work for the osteorepair device. The medical wrap did its job.”
“Noted.” I took a few steps back. “I will return to my lab, then.”
“Well, all that pretty korae isn’t going to analyze itself.” Elena hesitated, as if she wanted to add something, but then apparently changed her mind. “Enjoy your data,” she said instead. She reached for the sealed seam of the medical wrap, then glared at me. “Do you mind?”
Removing the wrap would cause her pain, and apparently she did not want me to be present.
I opened my mouth to remind her she could apply another analgesic patch, but she knew that—and I doubted my advice was wanted.
She might not want to take another dose.
For all its benefits, that particular medicine sometimes caused nausea in humans.
So I turned on my heel and left.
I was halfway to my lab when her stifled cry of pain drifted down the corridor.
My entire body shuddered. I stumbled into the wall, bracing myself with one hand, then leaned against its cold surface to catch my breath.
The draw of a true mate bond had been bad enough when she was not hurt.
Now every part of me wanted me to run to her and provide comfort and care.
Something new burned in my chest, near my hearts: a strange, warm vibration that tried to rise into my throat and become a vocal sound.
This was my coo, a song I instinctually made to comfort my mate.
I had never made it before because I had not had reason to do so.
Elena’s injury had caused yet another change to my physiology.
I clenched my jaw to hold in the song. A bolt of pain made me grimace. The discomfort and urge faded, leaving a hollow ache. Finally, with effort, I continued my walk to Lab One. I hoped Elena could not hear my uneven gait.
I could try to isolate myself as much as possible, but I could not delude myself into believing that was a solution. I would have no peace until I gave in to what my body and soul wanted most…or Elena left Hyderia for good.