17. Alice
CHAPTER 17
ALICE
T he microscope whirs as I adjust the focus, squinting at the peculiar specimen. My ankle throbs, but the excitement of discovery drowns out the discomfort. The tiny red petals almost seem to pulse under the lens, their surface unlike anything I've documented before.
"You should elevate that foot more." Davrik's voice startles me. He sets a plate beside my workstation, the steam from whatever he's prepared wafting past my nose.
"I'm fine. Look at these spines though—they're almost crystalline in structure." I gesture to the screen without looking up. "I've never seen anything like it."
"The food will get cold." His tone carries that new distance, like he's reading from a script rather than talking to me.
"Just five more minutes." I tap notes into my tablet. "The cellular makeup is fascinating. It's almost as if?—"
"Alice."
The way he says my name still sends shivers down my spine, even when he's being stern. I tear my eyes away from the microscope to find him looming over me, arms crossed.
"You won't heal properly if you don't take care of yourself."
"Says the man who crashed his ship and walked it off." I adjust my position, wincing as my ankle protests the movement.
His jaw tightens. "Just eat something. Please."
The 'please' surprises me. I reach for the plate, and our fingers brush as he steadies it for me. For a moment, that spark between us flares, but he pulls back like I've burned him.
"Thank you," I say softly. "For taking care of me."
He nods stiffly and turns to leave. I watch him go, then turn back to my work, trying to ignore the ache that has nothing to do with my ankle.
I pick at the food Davrik prepared - some kind of protein with local vegetables I'd deemed safe for consumption. The flavors blend surprisingly well, though my mind wanders to the specimen waiting under my microscope rather than savoring each bite.
Over a month ago, I was alone here, talking to myself and my equipment. Now I'm sharing meals with a mysterious blue-skinned courier who kisses like... Focus, Alice.
I tap commands into my terminal, starting the DNA sequencing. The computer churns through data while I finish eating. A series of beeps draws my attention back to the screen.
"That can't be right." I lean forward, scrolling through the results. "Computer, run sequence analysis again, compare against known medicinal compounds."
The machine whirs. New data streams across my display, highlighting matching patterns. My heart races as I process what I'm seeing.
"Cross-reference with known toxins and venoms, all documented species." My fingers drum against the desk while I wait.
The results pop up: No matches found.
"No way." I pull up different angles of the molecular structure, rotating the 3D model. "The anti-inflammatory properties are off the charts, and it's completely non-toxic?"
I run more specific tests, checking against various species' physiological profiles. Human, Kaleidian, Kiphian - the plant shows no adverse reactions with any of them. Instead, it demonstrates powerful healing properties across the board.
"Computer, calculate potential medical applications based on current data."
The list that appears makes me gasp. This little red flower could revolutionize treatment for dozens of conditions. And it's just sitting here in a pit on this backwater planet, waiting to be discovered.
I grab my tablet and start documenting everything. My company needs to know about this immediately. This could change everything - not just for my career, but for countless people across the galaxy.
My ankle throbs, reminding me I should probably take a break. The swelling has gotten worse from sitting in this position too long. I shift, and pain shoots up my leg.
The data on my screen catches my attention again - specifically the anti-inflammatory properties. I glance between my ankle and the remaining flower petal on my workstation.
"This is incredibly stupid," I mutter to myself, picking up the petal. "Probably the dumbest thing I've done since accepting this assignment."
The rational part of my brain screams about protocols, proper testing procedures, and the countless regulations I'm about to violate. But my ankle throbs again, and curiosity wins out.
"For science," I whisper, popping the petal into my mouth before I can talk myself out of it.
It tastes slightly sweet, with an herbal undertone. I swallow, then hold my breath, waiting for... something. Anything.
A warm sensation spreads from my stomach outward. My ankle tingles, and the pain begins to fade. Within seconds, the swelling visibly reduces.
"No way." I rotate my foot experimentally. No pain. "No fucking way."
I push back from my desk and stand up. My ankle holds steady. I take a few tentative steps, then more confident ones.
"This is incredible!"
I bounce on my toes, testing the limits. Nothing. Not even a twinge. The injury feels completely healed.
"Computer, note time and effects of direct consumption test." I can't keep the excitement from my voice as I document my completely unauthorized experiment. "Subject experienced complete relief from inflammation and associated pain within sixty seconds of ingestion. No apparent side effects."
I jump up and down, grinning like an idiot. The implications of this are staggering. And I found it. In a pit I literally fell into.
I rush around my lab, grabbing sample containers and scanning equipment. My hands shake with excitement as I document everything about the miracle plant - soil pH, mineral content, light exposure in the pit. The data floods my tablet screen as I cross-reference environmental factors.
My throat's dry from talking to myself while recording notes. I head to the kitchen for water, nearly colliding with the doorframe in my distraction.
"Navi! You won't believe what I found! This plant - it's incredible. The healing properties alone could revolutionize medicine across multiple species!"
Navi's interface pulses with a soft blue glow. "Your vital signs indicate extreme excitement, Dr. Watson. I take it your research is progressing well?"
"Better than well!" I lean against the counter, unable to keep still. "This could be the breakthrough of the century. Think about it - a naturally occurring compound that works across species barriers? The applications are endless!"
"Your enthusiasm is infectious. I predict a significant advancement in your career trajectory."
"You really think so?" I take a sip of water, my mind racing. "I mean, this could change everything."
"Indeed. Your dedication to science is admirable. Your future career seems very bright."
I trace the rim of my glass, hesitating. "What about... what about Davrik? Do you think there's a future there too?"
Navi's lights flicker briefly. "Dr. Watson, your scientific discoveries should be your primary focus at this juncture. Such opportunities are rare and should not be compromised."
My stomach sinks. "Right. Of course." I set down my half-empty glass, suddenly not thirsty anymore. "Thanks, Navi."
I leave the kitchen, my earlier excitement dampened by the weight of unspoken words. The AI's diplomatic response might as well have been a flat "no."
My head spins with exhaustion as I stumble into the common area. The station's lights have dimmed for night cycle, casting everything in a soft blue glow. Davrik sprawls across the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.
I pause, drinking in the sight of him. His usual guard is down in sleep, making him look younger, softer somehow. A strand of dark hair falls across his face, and my fingers itch to brush it away.
"Just for a minute," I whisper to myself, carefully settling onto the edge of the couch beside him.
I curl up against his side, telling myself I'll move in a moment. His arm shifts, wrapping around me automatically. My eyes grow heavy as his steady heartbeat thrums against my ear.
"You're impossible," I murmur, tracing the pattern of his shirt with my fingertip.
He stirs, and I freeze. His green eyes blink open, focusing on me with sleepy confusion.
His hand slides up my back, sending tingles along my spine. "Alice..."
Maybe it's the exhaustion, or the lingering high from my discovery, or just the way he says my name - soft and rough all at once. The words slip out before I can stop them.
"I love you."
His entire body tenses beneath me. I hold my breath, waiting for him to pull away, to put that careful distance back between us.