Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Becsul watched the door slide shut behind Melissa and every instinct he possessed screamed at him to follow.
Stay with Robbie, she had said. It was the logical choice. The infant was sleeping peacefully now, his fever broken, but fevers could return. Someone needed to watch over him.
And yet…
The Tandoran guard’s flat, emotionless voice echoed in his mind.
The female will come for an examination.
The procedures weren’t always painful, but they were always invasive and degrading.
The thought of her subjected to that—especially now, exhausted and vulnerable after a night of terror—made his fists clench involuntarily.
He crossed to the crib and looked down at the sleeping infant.
Robbie’s face was peaceful, his small chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.
The flush had faded from his cheeks, leaving his skin smooth and healthy.
He looked nothing like a Cire child, and yet Becsul felt the same fierce protectiveness he imagined he would feel towards his own offspring.
Not that I’ll ever have any, he thought bitterly. Fifteen years of watching embryos fail had taught him not to hope.
A soft sound drew his attention—a murmur from the baby, a shifting of tiny limbs. Robbie’s eyes fluttered open, dark and unfocused, then drifted closed again. He didn’t want to leave the child alone. But he couldn’t let her face whatever was coming without protection either.
There has to be a way.
His gaze swept the cell, automatically cataloging its contents. The bed with its thin mattress. The small sanitation unit. The high tech crib. The datapad he had brought her, still sitting on the narrow shelf beside a stack of clothes.
The datapad…
He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. Standard issue, nothing remarkable, but it had communication capabilities, which meant it had a receiver. And receivers could be modified.
He had learned a few tricks during his years at the reproductive facility.
When you spent enough time around scientists and their equipment, you picked up knowledge whether you intended to or not and he’d always had a knack for electronics.
It took him only a few minutes to access the datapad’s internal settings, disable the outgoing signal, and activate the audio pickup as a passive monitor.
He placed the device carefully on the shelf beside the crib, angled so its sensor would capture any sounds in the cell.
Then he pulled out his personal communicator and synced it to the modified datapad.
A faint hiss of static, then silence. Good.
If Robbie woke and cried, he would hear it.
He gave the sleeping infant one last look, then turned and strode towards the door.
The examination rooms were in the eastern wing of the facility, past the main corridor and through a set of heavy security doors. He moved quickly, his long stride eating up the distance, but he forced himself not to run. Running would attract attention and raise questions.
He was simply checking on a subject. Making sure the procedures were being conducted properly. Nothing unusual about that. The lie tasted sour in his mouth.
He reached the examination wing just as she was being escorted through the doors at the far end of the corridor.
She didn’t see him because she was facing forward, her spine rigid with tension, and her hands clenched at her sides.
The Tandoran guard walked beside her with that eerily smooth gait, one long-fingered hand wrapped around her upper arm.
He fell into step behind them, keeping enough distance to avoid suspicion but close enough to intervene if necessary. The guard didn’t look back.
The examination room was clinical and cold, all white surfaces and gleaming metal equipment.
Dr. Veyalor was already there, standing beside a padded table, his scaled hands folded in front of him.
He looked up as the guard pushed Melissa through the door, and his yellow eyes flickered briefly to Becsul before returning to the human female.
“Ah, good. On the table, please.”
She didn’t move. Her gaze swept over the instruments laid out on a nearby tray, the restraints attached to the table’s sides, and the cold fluorescent lights overhead and her jaw tightened.
“What are you going to do?”
“A routine examination. Blood samples and physical measurements, nothing invasive.” Veyalor’s tone was professionally neutral. “We need to establish current baseline data before we proceed with the next phase.”
“The next phase?” she asked sharply. “What does that mean?”
“On the table, female.” The Tandoran guard stepped forward, reaching for her arm. She flinched away from the guard’s touch, and his tail lashed angrily.
“She asked a question,” he heard himself say. “Answer it.”
Veyalor’s attention shifted to him, one eye ridge rising in what might have been surprise. “Captain Becsul. I wasn’t aware you had been assigned to observation duty.”
“I’m making sure the subject is treated properly. As I was ordered to do.”
It wasn’t technically a lie. Naran had told him to ensure the female’s needs were met. He was simply interpreting that order broadly.
Veyalor studied him for a long moment, then turned back to Melissa. “The next phase involves hormone treatments to prepare your body for insemination. The timeline depends on the results of today’s examination.”
The color drained from her face. Her hands trembled before she locked them together, hiding the reaction.
“And if I refuse?”
“You are not in a position to refuse.” The words were matter-of-fact, without cruelty but without compassion either. “On the table, please. We can do this the easy way or the difficult way.”
For a moment, he thought she might fight. He could see it in the set of her shoulders and the tightening of her muscles. Part of him wanted her to. He wanted an excuse to intervene, to pull her away from all of this and damn the consequences.
But she was smarter than that. She looked at the guard, at Veyalor, at the equipment surrounding them, and she made the calculation that any intelligent person would make.
“Fine.” She crossed to the table and sat on its edge, her movements stiff with suppressed anger. “Let’s get this over with.”
The examination proceeded in tense silence. Veyalor drew blood, checked her vital signs, measured her body temperature and blood pressure. Becsul forced himself to watch, to bear witness, even though every touch the doctor made, impersonal and clinical as they were, set his teeth on edge.
Then the Tandoran guard stepped forward.
“Restrain her for the pelvic examination.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Veyalor said. “She’s cooperating.”
“Protocol requires—”
“I said it won’t be necessary.”
The guard’s eyes shifted between the doctor and Melissa. Something in his posture changed—a subtle stiffening, a slight forward lean that Becsul recognized from years of reading body language.
He’s going to do it anyway.
The guard reached for her wrist, and she jerked back instinctively, her elbow catching the edge of a metal tray. Instruments clattered to the floor. The guard’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh, and she gasped—
He was across the room before he consciously decided to move. His hand closed around the guard’s wrist, the pressure just enough to make it clear how easily he could snap the thin bones. The Tandoran froze, his eyes swiveling to meet Becsul’s gaze.
“Release her.”
“Captain, this is not—”
“Release her.”
The words came out in a growl, low and dangerous. His tail lashed behind him, the rage building in his chest like a fire looking for fuel. He knew he was making a mistake and revealing too much, but he couldn’t seem to stop.
The guard’s hand opened. Melissa pulled her arm back, cradling it against her chest. Red marks were already forming where his fingers had been.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice not even remotely grateful. “Dr. Veyalor will complete the examination without your assistance. Wait outside.”
For a long moment, the Tandoran didn’t move. Then, with a smooth, unhurried motion, he turned and walked out of the room. The door slid shut behind him.
Silence.
He became aware, slowly, that both Melissa and Veyalor were staring at him. Her expression was a complicated mix of gratitude and wariness. Veyalor’s was something else entirely—thoughtful and calculating.
“Perhaps,” the doctor said mildly, “we should continue without the pelvic examination. I have sufficient data for now.”
He nodded once, not trusting himself to speak.
The rest of the examination was mercifully brief. Veyalor took a few more measurements, made notes on his datapad, and then stepped back from the table.
“You may return to your quarters. We’ll begin the hormone treatments tomorrow.”
“Will they… Will they affect my ability to nurse my son?”
Veyalor hesitated. “Not immediately, but it is a possibility. I will prepare some formula samples for you to try in case it becomes necessary.”
She nodded and slid off the table, her legs slightly unsteady. He wanted to reach out and steady her, but he held himself back. They were being watched.
“I’ll escort her back,” he said.
Veyalor raised a fluffy orange eyebrow. “I’m sure you will.”
They walked back in silence. He kept pace beside her, close enough to intervene if needed but not so close as to crowd her. She moved with careful footsteps, her gaze fixed straight ahead, and her breathing deliberately even.
The red marks on her wrist were darkening into bruises.
He wanted to say something—to apologize for what had happened, to promise that it wouldn’t happen again, to tell her that he would burn this entire facility to the ground before he let anyone hurt her.
But the words lodged in his throat, trapped by duty and uncertainty and the growing realization that he had no idea what he was doing anymore.