Chapter 18
The command cracked through Engineering Bay Alpha, sharp as a gunshot.
Carmen jerked back as if electrocuted, her hand snapping away from Mila’s arm.
She stumbled upright. Letitia stood framed in the heavy doorway, chest heaving, dark eyes blazing with a fury that burned hotter than plasma fire.
The raw panic beneath it froze Carmen’s blood.
Mila froze. Her eyes widened, flicking from Letitia’s furious face to Carmen’s own shock. Confusion sat on her face like a mask.
“What the hell, Letitia?” Carmen managed, trying to reclaim command, to shove the disorientation aside. She gestured sharply at Zed’s projection. “Thrusters at thirty-nine percent. Mila just fixed—”
“It’s not real, Carmen!” Letitia cut her off, striding into the bay.
Her fists were clenched at her sides, knuckles white. She stopped a few paces away, her gaze locked on Carmen, ignoring Mila completely for a terrifying second.
“None of it! The wanting? The need you feel? It’s not you! It’s her! She has goddamn pheromones!”
The word shattered Carmen’s focus. It obliterated all coherent thought.
Pheromones?
It echoed in the sudden, ringing silence of the bay. The hum of the ship’s systems, the faint whir of Zed’s processors, all receded, drowned out by the pounding of Carmen’s own heart.
Pheromones.
The constant distraction. The way Mila’s scent seemed to cling to her quarters, her clothes. The heat that flared whenever she was near. The inexplicable pull that had drawn her closer, made her touch linger …
It’s not real, Carmen!
The realization washed over her, cold and sickening.
It wasn’t attraction. It wasn’t connection.
It was contamination. A chemical trick played on her nervous system.
The closeness she’d felt a heartbeat ago – the respect, the fascination, the dizzying rush of desire – curdled instantly into disgust, dark and vicious.
Her face drained of blood. The deck seemed to tilt under her boots. She braced a hand against the cold metal of the main console, the schematic of the successful reroute still glowing accusingly.
“What?” she whispered.
“Class-4 bio-contaminant,” Letitia spat, her voice trembling with rage.
She pointed a shaking finger at Mila, who stood tall but utterly still, her expression unreadable.
“That’s what the UPA calls it. Suppresses inhibitions.
Amplifies attraction. Makes you want her, Carmen.
Makes you obsessed. Makes you throw logic out the airlock for a sniff of her goddamn fur! ”
The accusation hung in the air, thick with the very scent Letitia condemned. Carmen’s gaze snapped to Mila. The XenX woman met her look, those green eyes wide, pupils dilated. Was it fear? Guilt? Or just more chemical manipulation?
“Is this true?”
Carmen’s voice was low, dangerous, stripped of all warmth. The command tone was back, brittle as ice.
“Captain, I.…” She swallowed, the movement visible in the white fur of her throat. “My species … we do secrete certain compounds. Volatile organics. It is involuntary. A biological function.”
Her voice remained soft, level, but Carmen heard the tremor underneath.
“I thought … I assumed you knew. It is common knowledge among species who interact with XenX. The UPA restrictions …”
“Common knowledge?” Letitia roared. She laughed, a harsh, brittle sound. “You thought we knew you were drugging us? Pumping the air full of sex chemicals? Making us want to jump you while you smile and play the innocent engineer?”
Mila flinched as if struck.
“That is not … I do not drug anyone!” For the first time, genuine heat entered her voice, cutting through the calm. “The compounds are simply present. Like human perspiration carries scent. I cannot control it any more than you can control the color of your eyes!”
Her gaze darted back to Carmen, pleading.
“Captain, please. I have offered nothing but my assistance. My skills are real. The repair was real.”
“But my reaction wasn’t,” Carmen said.
The cold fury building inside her was terrifying in its intensity. She’d been weak. She’d been played. She’d let this … this thing compromise her, cloud her judgment, make her risk her ship, her crew.
The memory of her hand on Mila’s arm, the overwhelming urge to lean in, to taste her, her lecherous gaze at the Xena’s exposed vagina – it all made her skin crawl! Had any of it been her? Or just chemicals hijacking her brain?
She turned sharply to her chief engineer standing silently nearby.
“Zed, scan the atmospheric composition. Right now. Focus on organic volatiles. Cross-reference with UPA bio-contaminant databases, specifically XenX pheromone profiles. Full analysis.”
“Affirmative, Captain,” Zed’s calm voice was a jarring counterpoint to the human tension crackling in the bay.
His telescopic arm extended, a sensor probe whirring as it sampled the air near Mila, then near Carmen, then near the ventilation intake.
Lights flickered rapidly on his rectangular head.
“Sampling complete. Analysis initiated.”
The seconds stretched, thick with the sound of Letitia’s ragged breathing and Mila’s silent, watchful tension.
Carmen kept her gaze fixed on Zed, refusing to look at either woman.
The control she prided herself on felt like shattered glass in her hands.
She’d been manipulated. Intoxicated. Made a fool of in her own engine room.
The shame of it burned hotter than any plasma flare.
“Analysis complete,” Zed announced. “Atmospheric composition confirms elevated levels of multiple complex volatile organic compounds matching UPA Class-4 bio-contaminant designation, ‘XenX Emotive Effectors – Primary Cluster’. Concentration levels are consistent with prolonged, close-proximity exposure to a XenX source individual. Standard shipboard environmental filtration systems are incapable of neutralizing or significantly reducing these compounds. Due to the recirculated nature of starship atmosphere, contamination is pervasive throughout all habitable sections of the Antilles.”
Pervasive throughout.
The words landed like hammer blows. It wasn’t just her.
It wasn’t just this bay. The air they all breathed, recycled over and over, was saturated with it.
A drug. Circulating through the vents, into their lungs, into their bloodstreams. Affecting Sark’s nervous chatter, Norvik’s cold calculations, Letitia’s fierce protectiveness, and her own disastrous lapse of control.
“All of us?” Carmen heard herself ask, her voice strangely detached. “The entire crew?”
“Affirmative,” Zed confirmed. “All organic crew members aboard the Antilles are subject to exposure and the documented physiological and psychological effects. Probability of significant cognitive and behavioral influence approaches 98.7% for prolonged exposure scenarios such as this.”
Zed’s precision was a knife twist. It wasn’t just influence. Her decisions, her fierce defense of Mila, her refusal to sell her, her determination to take her home. Had any of it been hers? Or just the chemicals whispering in her blood, overriding logic, duty, self-preservation?
And holy shit, she’d let a XenX female onto a ship with two lesbians and two straight men. Everyone was naturally attracted to her. Her ignorance, her negligence had compromised the whole crew!
She’d failed. Again. Just like with Corso. Underestimated the threat. Let something slip past her defenses. Only this time, the enemy wasn’t a mutinous bastard; it was an invisible cloud, a sweet-smelling poison, and the woman standing before her, looking at her with those impossible green eyes.
“You see?” Letitia’s voice was raw. “It’s everywhere. She’s compromised us all. She knew! She had to know what she was doing!”
Mila took a step back, her fur bristling slightly along her spine.
“I did not!” The calm was gone, replaced by a defensive sharpness.
“I told you: it is biology! Like your own scent! Did you declare your intent every time you entered a room smelling of soap or perfume? No! You assumed others understood the nature of human olfactory signals! I made the same assumption!”
Her gaze locked onto Carmen, desperate now.
“Captain, believe me. I sought only to assist. To be useful. I would never deliberately manipulate you or your crew. My Harimi training forbids such deception. Service is offered freely, not coerced!”
“Useful?” Letitia scoffed, stepping closer, putting herself almost between Carmen and Mila. “Is that what you call it? Making the captain stare at you like a starving woman? Making her throw away our only chance to survive because you smell like some kind of … of space aphrodisiac?”
“Enough!” Carmen’s shout cut through the rising argument, sharp and final. The force of it surprised even her.
Both women flinched, falling silent. The cold fury inside her had crystallized into something hard, brittle, and utterly focused. She couldn’t afford rage right now. She couldn’t afford disgust. She needed control, damage control.
She finally looked directly at Mila. Really looked – the elegant lines of her face, the intelligence in her eyes, the warmth of her fur that had felt so alluring. Now, it all seemed like a carefully crafted lure. A trap.
The respect she’d felt for the engineer curdled into bitter suspicion.
“You will remain here in Engineering,” Carmen said, her voice flat.
“Confined to this bay and the adjacent maintenance crawlspaces Zed uses. You will not leave without my explicit, direct order. You will not interact with any organic crewmember unless absolutely necessary for ship operations, and only under Zed’s direct supervision. ”
She turned her icy gaze to the Mechan.
“Zed. You are responsible for enforcing this restriction. Log all interactions. Monitor her constantly.”
“Acknowledged, Captain,” Zed responded instantly. “Restriction protocols enacted. Continuous monitoring initiated.”
Mila stared at her, her green eyes wide with shock, then dawning hurt.
“Captain, you are confining me? Like a criminal?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “After I repaired your thrusters? After I offered only help?”
The wounded confusion in her tone scraped against Carmen’s raw nerves. It sounded so genuine. Was it? Or was it just another expertly deployed weapon, honed by her Harimi training? The doubt was poison. She couldn’t trust her own perceptions. Not anymore. The violation was absolute.
“What I feel,” Carmen said, forcing the words out past the tightness in her throat, “what any of us feel around you, is not real. It’s chemistry. Poison in the air.”
She met Mila’s gaze, letting the cold fury show.
“Your ‘help’ comes at a price none of us agreed to pay. Consider this quarantine. For your protection as much as ours.”
Mila’s shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. The sight sent an unwanted pang through Carmen’s chest that she viciously quashed.
Not real, she reminded herself. Not real.
She turned to Letitia, who was watching her, the fury in her eyes tempered now by a flicker of … relief? Approval? Carmen didn’t care.
“Letitia, gather the rest of the crew. Inform them of the situation – Zed’s atmospheric analysis, the effects, the contamination, everything. No sugar-coating.” She took a breath, the recycled air suddenly feeling thick and toxic in her lungs. “Tell them … tell them I’m working on a solution.”
“Solution?” Letitia asked, her brow furrowing. “What solution? We can’t filter it out. Zed said—”
“I know what Zed said!” Carmen snapped, the control cracking for a second. She reined herself in, clenching her jaw. “Just tell them. And keep them away from Engineering. Especially Sark. Understood?”
Letitia nodded slowly.
“Understood, Captain.”
Letitia cast one last, hard look at Mila, then turned and strode out of the bay, the heavy hatch sealing behind her with a final-sounding thud.
The silence that followed was profound. Only the hum of the ship and Zed’s quiet whirring filled the space. And the scent. That damned, cloying, treacherous scent. How had she not noticed it before?
Carmen couldn’t look at Mila. The sight of her, standing there, radiating confusion and hurt and that impossible allure, was unbearable. It felt like staring at the instrument of her own violation.
The violation of her mind, her control, her very sense of self.
“Continue the thruster adjustments with Zed,” she ordered, her voice tight, staring fixedly at the deck plating near Mila’s feet. “Get them as stable as possible. We still have a course to hold.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She couldn’t.
She turned on her heel and walked out of Engineering Bay Alpha. Her boots echoed too loudly in the corridor. The air out here was no different. It still carried the faint, sweet musk. It was inside her. In her lungs. In her blood.
The shame rose then, hot and choking. She’d risked her crew for a chemical illusion. The weight of it pressed down on her, a crushing certainty.
She’d thought Corso’s mutiny was her greatest failure. She’d been wrong. This was worse. This was a betrayal from within. A slow, insidious poison that had turned her own desires against her.
And she had no idea how to purge it.