Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As soon as she opened the door to their quarters, Mikoz’s whimper cut through the air like a blade through silk. The sound was wrong—high and reedy and so different from his usual healthy cries that Corinne’s stomach dropped before her conscious mind could even process why.
“He just kept getting fussier and fussier after I brought him back,” Anya said, words tumbling over each other. “He won’t stop crying and he’s so hot. I tried everything but he just keeps getting worse and his breathing sounds weird and—”
She crossed the room in three strides and scooped him out of the crib Selik had built. Heat radiated from the small body in waves. His skin felt furnace-hot beneath her palm and his eyes had a glassy, unfocused quality that made her heart clench.
“Shh, sweetie, I’m here.” She pressed her lips to his forehead and confirmed what her hands already knew.
Fever. High enough to make her own childhood memories surface—thermometers and cool baths and worried late-night calls to the pediatrician.
“You’re okay, baby. We’re going to make you feel better. ”
But they weren’t on Earth with easy access to children’s acetaminophen and urgent care clinics. They were on a Patrol ship in the middle of space and she had no idea what medical supplies they carried or if any of them would be safe for a human infant.
No. Not human. Cire. Mikoz was Cire, even if she kept forgetting that detail in the day-to-day routine of caring for him.
“We need to get him to the med bay.” Selik’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts, calm and authoritative. “Bombaya can help.”
“What if he can’t? What if they don’t have the right equipment or medications or—”
“Then we will find another solution.” He put his arm around her, his presence solid and reassuring even as worry tightened the corners of his eyes. “But panicking will not help him. We will move quickly, and we will trust our medic to do his job.”
He was right. She knew he was right. But knowing and feeling were two different things and right now all she felt was the terrifying weight of responsibility pressing down on her chest.
She’d promised Mikoz’s mother that she’d keep him safe. How could she keep that promise if she hadn’t even recognized that he was getting sick?
“Corinne.” Selik’s tail settled around her waist, warm and steady. “Breathe. He needs you to be calm.”
She sucked in a shaky breath and then another, forcing oxygen into her lungs until the edges of her vision stopped going gray. Mikoz whimpered against her chest and she adjusted her hold, snuggling him against her.
“Okay,” she managed. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He led the way rapidly through the ship and the few crew members they passed took one look at Selik’s expression and quickly moved aside. Anya stuck close to her side, her face pale but determined.
The med bay doors slid open at their approach, the space beyond as clean and efficient as she remembered. The medic had helped Anya, she reminded herself. Surely he could help Mikoz as well. Bombaya’s expression shifted from mild curiosity to sharp focus the moment he saw them.
“What happened, Commander?”
“The infant is ill. Fever and respiratory distress.”
“Put him on the exam bed.”
She moved forward on autopilot, her entire world narrowed down to the hot, fussy bundle in her arms. She had to force herself to put him down, hating how small he looked against the clinical backdrop. His cries had faded to weak mewls that somehow felt worse than full-throated screams.
The doctor ran a handheld scanner over the small body, studying the readout with a frown as he started the overhead scanner.
“Respiratory infection,” he said finally. “It is not uncommon in Cire infants.”
“Can you help him like you did Anya?” she asked anxiously.
“I’m going to give him an antibiotic injection and something to bring down the fever,” he explained, glancing at her. “The medication is standard for Cire infants and should be safe, but there’s always some risk when treating one so young.”
“I understand. Please. Just make him better.”
Bombaya prepared a hypospray with quick, economical movements, and she held Mikoz’s small hand, murmuring nonsense words of comfort while the doctor administered it. The baby barely reacted beyond a weak cry that broke her heart.
“The fever should start dropping within the hour,” Bombaya said, disposing of the used spray.
“The infection will take longer to clear, but he should be past the worst of it by morning.” He pulled out what looked like an IV stand and began setting up a fluid drip.
“I want to keep him hydrated while his body fights this off.”
She watched as he inserted the tiny needle into Mikoz’s arm and secured it with gentle efficiency. The bed adjusted to cradle his tiny body but the sight of medical equipment connected to such a small, vulnerable body made her chest ache.
“Can I hold him?”
“Once the fluids are running, and I’m confident he’s stable.” Bombaya checked the drip rate and made a few adjustments. “Right now I need him to remain still so nothing gets dislodged.”
She nodded and stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. The adrenaline that had carried her through the initial panic was starting to fade, leaving behind exhaustion and the shaky aftermath of fear.
Selik appeared at her side, solid and warm. His tail curled around her waist in that possessive gesture she was coming to crave, offering comfort and support without words. His other arm was wrapped around Anya’s thin shoulders and the girl was clinging to him just as tightly.
“He will be all right,” he said quietly. “Bombaya is skilled.”
“I should have noticed sooner. I should have realized something was wrong before it got this bad.”
“You are not a medic. You cannot blame yourself for not recognizing symptoms you have never been trained to identify.”
“I’m supposed to take care of him. That was the promise I made to his mother.”
“And you are taking care of him. Both of you.” His hand settled on her shoulder, warm and grounding. “Anya let us know he was sick, and you brought him here the moment you knew he needed help. You did exactly what a good parent would do.”
Parent. The word settled around her shoulders like a mantle she wasn’t sure she’d earned yet, but she wanted it. God, she wanted it so much it hurt—this small creature who’d come into her life through tragedy and somehow become the center of her world in a matter of weeks.
Anya moved to her other side, slipping a hand into hers. They stood there together, a makeshift family watching over their youngest member while skilled hands worked to make him well.
Bombaya continued his examination, checking vitals and making notes on his data pad. After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, he finally looked up and nodded.
“His temperature is starting to drop. The respiratory rate is improving.” He gestured toward a chair positioned beside the exam table. “You can hold him if you’d like. Just try not to disturb the IV line.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. She sank into the offered chair and carefully gathered Mikoz into her arms, mindful of the tubing and equipment. He made a small sound and nestled against her chest, his breathing already sounding less labored than it had been.
“There you go, sweetie,” she murmured, stroking the tiny ridges on his head. “You’re going to be just fine. Dr. Bombaya is taking good care of you.”
Anya pulled up another chair and sat down, resting her head on Corinne’s shoulder. The young girl had been so strong through everything—the abduction, the escape, adapting to life on a Cire vessel—but she was still just a teenager who’d been scared for the baby she’d helped care for.
“Is he really going to be okay?” Anya asked quietly.
“Yes,” she said, because the alternative was unthinkable. “He’s strong. And he’s got all of us looking out for him.”
Selik moved behind them, one hand on her shoulder and the other on Anya’s. The three-point contact felt grounding, like he was physically holding them together through the force of his presence.
Bombaya continued working around them, checking monitors and adjusting equipment with the quiet competence of someone who’d done this countless times before. Occasionally he would stop to scan Mikoz or check his vitals, each time offering a small nod of satisfaction.
“Temperature is down another degree,” he announced after one such check. “The medication is working as it should.”
Relief flooded through her, so intense it made her dizzy. She pressed a kiss to Mikoz’s forehead and confirmed what the doctor had said—the burning heat had eased to something closer to normal body temperature.
“Thank you,” she said, looking up at Bombaya. “For helping him.”
The doctor’s expression softened slightly. “I am a healer. That means treating those who need help, regardless of the circumstances that brought them to my med bay.”
He nodded and returned to his work, leaving them in relative peace. She settled more comfortably in the chair, adjusting her hold on Mikoz to better support his weight. The IV stand loomed beside them but she was getting used to it, accepting it as a temporary necessity rather than a threat.
Time passed in a strange blur. Anya dozed off against her shoulder, her head heavy and warm.
Selik remained standing behind them, a silent sentinel who radiated protective energy.
Bombaya moved around the med bay on quiet feet, attending to other tasks while keeping a watchful eye on his small patient.