Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
The question had lodged itself in Becsul’s mind like a splinter beneath his skin, impossible to ignore.
How did they plan to impregnate her?
He had walked the corridors of the facility for an hour after leaving Melissa’s cell, unable to sleep, unable to think of anything else.
Her face haunted him—the way her eyes had hardened when she’d asked, and the bitter twist of her mouth when she’d mentioned breeding livestock.
He had seen warriors break under torture who showed less courage than this small human female facing the unknown.
And he had no answers for her.
The laboratory wing was quiet at this hour, the harsh overhead lights dimmed to a pale glow that cast long shadows across the ancient stone walls.
The contrast of the sleek equipment humming against walls that had stood for a thousand years, since long before the Red Death had swept their world clean of hope, still jarred him.
Dr. Veyalor’s office was at the end of the corridor, and he paused outside it, gathering himself.
He had dealt with scientists before, but they had been Cire scientists, with their careful methodologies and their respect for warrior protocols.
Veyalor was Manigan, and the Manigans had a reputation for viewing other species as little more than interesting specimens.
For Melissa. I need to know. For her.
He pressed his palm against the control, and the door slid open.
Veyalor looked up from his workstation with an expression of mild irritation. The Manigan scientist’s white scales gleamed under the artificial light, and his fluffy orange hair was pulled back from his face in a severe knot.
“Captain Becsul.” His voice was flat, clinical. “I was not expecting visitors at this hour.”
“I have questions about the project.”
“Security questions, I assume?”
“Questions about the procedure.”
A hint of surprise crossed Veyalor’s face. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his long fingers beneath his chin.
“The procedure. I see.” A thin smile crossed his face. “And why would a security officer need to understand the medical protocols?”
“Because I am responsible for the safety of this facility and everyone in it.” He kept his voice cool and professional. “I cannot do my job effectively if I don’t understand what is happening inside these walls.”
“A reasonable argument.” Veyalor’s tone suggested he found it anything but. “Very well. What specifically do you wish to know?”
How will you touch her? What will you do to her body? Will it hurt?
The questions burned in his throat, but he forced them down and made himself speak calmly.
“The human females. How will they be… impregnated?”
Veyalor’s smile widened, and his tail lashed with irritation.
“Are you concerned about contamination, Captain? Or perhaps something more… personal?”
“Answer the question.”
The scientist’s eyebrows rose at the sharpness in his tone, but he shrugged and turned to pull up something on his display.
“The process is quite straightforward, actually. Dr. Pagalan’s research indicated that the primary barrier to interspecies reproduction was biochemical rather than physical.
Cire genetic material is simply incompatible with most other species without intervention.
” He gestured at a complex diagram that meant nothing to Becsul.
“We’ve developed an injection to be administered to the female, followed by the introduction of the male’s genetic contribution. ”
“An injection?”
“The process itself is quite painless. No surgery, no invasive procedures beyond the initial injection.” Veyalor’s clinical tone made the words sound almost innocent.
Some of the tension in his shoulders eased. Not because the situation was acceptable—it was still a monstrous violation of everything he had been taught to honor—but because at least she would not be subjected to violence. At least there would be no straps, no forced coupling, no—
“And the male’s contribution,” he heard himself say. “How is that… introduced?”
Veyalor’s smile turned knowing. “Ah. That’s what concerns you.”
“Answer the question.”
The scientist turned back to his work, dismissing him. “The males will provide samples, which will be processed and introduced to the females at the optimal time in their cycles. All very clinical. All very controlled.”
Another male’s seed inside her.
The thought hit him like a punch in the gut, and his tail lashed angrily behind him.
“Which males?”
Veyalor looked up again, and this time there was genuine interest in his eyes. “Now that is an interesting question. You seem very invested in this particular subject, Captain.”
“Which males will be providing samples?”
“We need males with strong genetic markers and good health histories. Evidence of previous successful bonding might be helpful—”
“I want to be considered.”
The words were out before he could stop them. Veyalor stared at him, and for the first time since he’d entered the office, the scientist looked genuinely surprised.
“You have no scientific background, no—”
“I have strong genetic markers. I have been contributing my sperm to the efforts in the capital since I was old enough to donate.”
And I will not let another male touch her. Not even in this clinical, sterile way. Not while I breathe.
Veyalor studied him for a long moment, that calculating look returning to his pale eyes.
“Interesting,” he murmured. “Most interesting.” He made a note on his display.
“Although you may have misunderstood. The genetic material is provided via a blood sample. I. believe it is how my uncle was able to get around the issues with viability. However, I will take your request under consideration, Captain. Now, if there’s nothing else… ?”
It was a dismissal. He accepted it, turning and striding from the office before he could say something he would regret.
The corridors seemed longer on the walk back and the shadows deeper. He tried to sort through the chaos of his thoughts, to find some order in the storm of emotions that Melissa had unleashed in him.
She’s not even Cire. She’s an alien, a human, a species you’d never even seen before today. This is madness.
But his tail disagreed. His tail, which had never responded to a female, which had been still and controlled through years of warrior training and discipline, kept reaching for a female who wasn’t there.
The mate bond, whispered something deep in his chest. This is what it means.
He stopped walking, pressing one hand against the cold stone wall to steady himself.
It couldn’t be. The mate bond could only exist between two Cire.
It was the fundamental truth of their reproduction, the reason they were dying.
A Cire male could only truly bond with a Cire female, and there were no Cire females left.
But what if that truth is wrong?
What if everything they had believed was wrong?
He thought of her face. The fear she tried so hard to hide. The fierce protectiveness when she spoke of her son. The strength it must have taken to speak up, to demand fresh air and books as if she had any power in this situation.
She is magnificent, he thought again. And he was going to do everything in his power to make her captivity bearable. To keep his promise. To protect her, even from himself if necessary.
He started walking again, faster now. He had clothes to find, a datapad to procure, and a promise to keep.