Chapter 71 Noelle
NOELLE
The first thing she became aware of was the sound.
It was a soft, rhythmic beeping somewhere nearby—steady and reassuring. It pulsed in the distance like a heartbeat made of light and machinery.
The next sensation was warmth.
Noelle felt it blooming around her like a cocoon—thick, plush blankets tucked close around her and a pillow cradling her head. She was lying on something soft. Not metal. Not stone. And definitely not the black mattress in Thune’s filthy play room.
This is a bed, she realized dimly. A real bed. Clean, comfortable and safe.
Above all, safe.
The air around her was pleasantly cool, but not sterile. It smelled faintly of disinfectant but not a harsh one—it was something organic and natural, she was sure.
Noelle shifted under the covers and a soft sigh escaped her lips as her body protested. Her limbs were heavy, her head woolly with fog. Every muscle ached as though she’d run a marathon in zero gravity and then been hit by a space truck.
She tried to raise a hand to rub her eyes… and froze.
No. No—wait—don’t touch! You’ll get shocked again!
Her instincts screamed at her, and she flinched automatically, hand jerking away from her own face.
A deep, calm voice interrupted the silence.
“Oh, are you awake? How do you feel?”
Noelle’s eyes fluttered open.
The ceiling above her glowed with a diffuse, ambient light—like moonlight caught in frosted glass.
She turned her head—slowly, painfully—and saw a tall Kindred male standing beside the bed.
He had pale blond hair and the clearest ice-blue eyes she’d ever seen.
He wore a white medical coat over a high-collared blue uniform shirt and his expression was kind but clinical.
“Who…who’re you?” she croaked, throat dry and sore.
“You can touch yourself,” the man said gently, misinterpreting her panic. “The non-contact collar has been removed.”
“Has it?” Her voice was stronger now, tinged with disbelief.
With trembling fingers, she reached up and scratched her nose—tentatively at first—then with growing confidence. No electric jolt. No pain. No resistance.
She touched her throat next. The familiar, hated silver filigree was gone. Her fingers met nothing but warm skin and a pulse that beat beneath it, strong and free.
Tears stung her eyes.
“Thank you!” she whispered, meaning it from the bottom of her heart. “Dios, thank you so much.”
The Kindred male gave her a soft smile.
“Who are you?” she asked again, lowering her hand.
“I’m Sylvan,” he said, inclining his head. “One of the doctors here on the Mother Ship.”
The Mother Ship.
The words washed over her like balm. They’d made it. They were really here.
Home, she thought. We made it home.
“You were brought in completely drugged—as were your two companions, Shines Brightly and Burns Hot,” Sylvan told her.
Noelle’s heart gave a painful thud of worry.
“Oh—are they all right?” she asked quickly, trying to push herself up, only for her arms to tremble under the effort.
“Yes, they’re just sleeping off whatever cocktail the three of you all took,” Sylvan assured her, gently pressing a hand to her shoulder to keep her from rising too fast. “They’re in the beds next door. You’re all safe now.”
Safe, she thought again, relief washing through her so powerfully she could have wept. Really safe.
She exhaled shakily and let herself relax into the mattress again, the drowsiness tugging at her.
“Pink drink,” she murmured, her voice fading. “It was…the pink drink the Trollox gave us.”
“That sounds like quite a story,” Sylvan said, reaching for a nearby console to make a note.
He said something else—his voice calm and steady—but Noelle didn’t catch it.
The bed was too warm…too soft and her limbs too heavy. The knowledge that Burn and Bright were alive and here in the room beside her was enough to let her surrender.
The last thing she saw before sleep claimed her again was the soft shimmer of stars outside the window, winking against the black velvet of space.
She was home.