Chapter 19
NINETEEN
He wasn’t supposed to wake up.
That was Niir’s first thought as consciousness returned, slowly, with annoying certainty. His chest hurt. His thigh hurt. Most things hurt. If he were dead, he wouldn’t feel so alive.
He heard the quiet humming of a machine. He opened his eyes, belatedly realizing that he didn’t appear to be lying on anything. Sure enough, he floated, nude, in some sort of thick liquid.
A spike of panic quickly settled as he recognized the cool blue gel he floated in as some advanced healing system the Baylans used.
He could see, breathe, hear, as if he were in regular air.
The only sense that didn’t work was smell, but the Baylans were so sterile with everything, there probably wasn’t anything to smell.
He brought his hands up to the curved interior of a clear tube. It wasn’t spacious. Extending his arms allowed him to touch both sides. The backs of his hands still held the red veins, but they had diminished considerably and were less pronounced. His vision had lost the red tint, too.
Looking out beyond his tube, he saw a stark room with some sleek monitors and screens, apparently displaying his vital signs.
Two males stood there, quietly gazing at him, arms crossed. One was Trak. The other was the Saar-king and commander of the base ship he was apparently on, which had to be the Veska-3.
Trak grinned at him. “Welcome back, old man.”
Harc Gral-Nak was a stern-looking Baylan whom Niir had never had an issue with, but hadn’t actively liked, either. He liked him better now. “We received an alert that you were regaining consciousness,” said the violet-eyed Baylan. “You’ve responded well to the tank.”
Niir didn’t know if he could speak. He opened his mouth, and it flooded with more gel. He started to flail as the slick taste of it filled his mouth.
“Relax,” said Harc. “If you do not overtax yourself, you will be able to speak normally.”
Niir used his meditation breathing to calm his respiration. His tongue struggled with the act of speaking through this substance. He managed to get out his first word. “Calinae.”
Trak tipped his head back and laughed. “What did I tell you?” He elbowed Harc in the ribs. “You’ll have to pay up, you know. A bet’s a bet.”
Harc gave him a sour look, but a small smile curved his lips. “Your female is alive and well and has shown great concern for you. She has visited you numerous times over the past three cycles.”
Niir nodded, overcome with relief. Not that she’d visited him—he would have preferred she not do that.
The rapid healing properties of the gel—whatever they were—had saved his life.
A look down at his chest revealed another puckered scar to add to the rest. But it could not cure the primal form that still pulsed within him. “Report?”
Trak sobered, not because he was usually the one asking for reports, but because reports were serious business.
“I will be brief. The other females are safe,” he said.
“We had several injuries. The enemy was neutralized. Those who had been pursuing us and were attempting to purchase the females fled when the Veska-3 appeared. No one is foolish enough to attack a Baylan base ship.”
“Not true,” Harc murmured. “A fool attacked this ship, which resulted in me owing you a favor.” He raised one arrogant brow. “That is now paid, correct?”
“And then some,” said Trak. “Anna and I are hanging up our thrusters for a bit. Can’t be wreaking havoc around the quadrant with three babies, you know.”
“Three?” Harc’s brows rose. “So you are expecting another, then. Congratulations. Such fine genetics being passed on to the next generation.”
Trak beamed. “Why, thank you.”
“I meant Anna’s.”
It was not wise to needle Trak, as he himself was a true master at it.
“Pity our mates have become fast friends. My Anna and your Olivia are already making plans to visit each other. With us and the children, of course.” Trak gave Harc a maddening grin.
“Looks like we’ll be seeing lots more of each other. ”
Niir could almost hear Harc’s teeth grinding together.
“Lovely.” The Baylan Saar-king turned to him.
“As for you, Niir,” Harc said. “The cold suspension you are in is bringing down the effects of the primal form and affecting your neurological connections as well. It should help with your overall condition. As it is, your horns are almost gone and your body temperature has dropped. We expect you to be back to normal in short order.”
“Thank you,” Niir said, and he meant it, but he wasn’t sure what good it would do. “And I am very grateful to you for arriving when you did. Honor is a rare thing among the species. Baylans are one of the rare ones who possess it.”
Harc nodded. “I am glad we were close enough to assist you.”
“I knew it would all work out,” Trak put in, unhelpfully. “You won’t be stuck in primal form forever, like you feared you would.”
“But I will change back.”
Harc shrugged. “Maybe.”
“What happened to Pella Rin?” It was because of him that he was stuck in this tube.
“He was badly affected by the terti drug. Perhaps because he inhaled so much at once, when it was released at close range, it did permanent damage. Trak agreed to let us send him to one of our research vessels,” said Harc.
Niir frowned. “But—”
“The Baylans have an intriguing use for him,” Trak cut in. “Since the traitor was to be sentenced to death anyway, I agreed to Harc’s request on my brother’s behalf.”
“Did you ask Drex?”
“Of course not,” Trak replied. “He would have said no.”
There was no escaping a Baylan ship, if one became imprisoned. Niir had never seen an upside to getting on the wrong side of the Baylans. Maybe they would experiment on Pella Rin. Niir shrugged, having already lost interest. “What will become of Calinae and the other females?”
“They have chosen to come with us to Virilia.” Trak wiggled his brows. “They like the look of us. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—Virilians are irresistible.”
Harc made a pained face. “When are you leaving?”
“Soon,” Niir answered for Trak. “The moment it’s safe for me to board our ship.
” Usually, he was ambivalent about their visits to their home planet, but this time he couldn’t wait to return home.
He yearned to get away from the tight quarters of the ship and the constant demands of his position.
There were many abandoned outposts in the Virilian desert, or the ice region.
He could find one and make a home there.
It would be a relief to live in quiet and solitude, where no one could be injured, or worse, when he returned to primal form.
Where he could start to put Calinae from his mind.
Harc left shortly, after sharing a bit more back-and-forth banter with Trak. Niir was beginning to think both males enjoyed it. Baylans were an odd bunch.
When they were alone, Trak crossed his arms and got serious again.
“I know we discussed it in the past, but I was serious about Anna and me staying on Virilia for a while to raise the children in safety. Pizol will be acting captain of the ship. I won’t tell you what to do.
Your position on the ship is yours unless you no longer want it. ”
“How could I fly like this?” He spread his hands in the tube, pressing the walls. “I would be a danger to everyone.”
“Harc is sending this tube with you,” said Trak.
“His scientists had fun coming up with it, but they have no use for it. It’s yours.
Anytime you feel hot, you just hop in. It works with your biorhythms, too, or something like that, to reprogram your brain.
Over time, the primal form will diminish. Not completely, but…”
“But,” he said. “I will always be a danger.”
Trak stuck his tongue in his cheek. “Not to Calinae, apparently.”
“What does that mean?”
“Looks like one of the species in her is Luktarian. You remember them?”
He thought. “They exist on that inferno planet where we needed to buy that illegal turian acid in order to—”
“Shush, will you? Stars, they record everything around here. But yes, them. Their females are insanely attractive, like beyond beautiful. You must remember them, but anyway, their internal temperature is so high that they will burn your willie right off you if you dare to stick it in one.”
“Willie?” Niir frowned, indeed remembering the wildly attractive Luktarian females. “Will you quit it with the British terms?”
“No, they’re more fun than our words. Anyway, your Calinae is enough Luktarian to withstand high heat, but not enough to give it off.”
He thought about this, remembering the species list. Apparently the Baylans had run tests of their own.
There was no way Trak would be mentioning it otherwise.
Niir hadn’t given much thought to the Luktarian genes.
They may have been added to increase the females’ attractiveness and maybe had nothing to do with a resistance to heat.
His thoughts swirled with the implications. “So even if I…”
“Yes. Even if you take on your primal form, touching her won’t kill her. She did touch you, actually. She was holding your flaming body in her arms and crying as your blood bubbled out of your chest.” He clapped once, then flung his arms wide. “Stars. D’you know what this means, Niir?”
Oh, he didn’t like the sparkle that lit Trak’s eyes. “What?”
“You’ve gone and found yourself a fireproof female, after all.” He let out a hoot of laughter. “I am a bona fide prophet. Wait until Anna hears about this.”
Niir closed his eyes and winced. He hated it when Trak was right about things like this. “We nearly died, Trak.”
Trak nodded, sobering. “That was the worst combat performance I’ve ever seen from you. You were atrocious. Was it the terti?”
He ran a hand over the new puckered scar on his chest. It would be the last one acquired in battle. “Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I’m done, Trak.” Saying the words made a weight lift off him. “I want to go home. I have fought my last fight. Hopefully.”
His captain and prince nodded, understanding perfectly. “We’ve been at this for a while, old man.”
Niir snorted out a rush of gel. “I’m barely older than you.”
Trak shook his head. “Not in hardship and life experience. In that respect, you are infinitely older.”
Niir sighed. Trak wasn’t wrong.
“Look.” Trak hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s waiting to see you. Can I send her in?”
His pulse increased, making the monitors near Trak blink and beep. “I’m a mess, Trak.”
“So what?” Trak’s voice rang out in the empty room. “Declare yourself. Tell her she is the love of your life and the one you want to spend the rest of your days with.” He held up a finger. “Or, I can help you with a poem.”