Vacant stare or not, Cara welcomed and reciprocated the smile. It was the first she’d received since Aelyx had smuggled her aboard the main ship an hour ago. Even the withered old ambassador with dead eyes had straightened his spine and puckered his mouth when he’d caught a glimpse of her. He and Aelyx had engaged in the most intense staring match she’d ever witnessed, and though she hadn’t been able to sneak a peek at their thoughts, she’d felt the message loud and clear: she wasn’t welcome. She just hoped nobody flushed her out the airlock like people did to their enemies on Battlestar Galactica.
“Sit up straighter, please.” The medic placed a hand on Cara’s back and helped her lean forward on the exam table. Then she wrapped a flexible pad around her chest and secured it in the front. Moving to a control panel on the wall, the girl warned, “This is slightly unpleasant, but try to relax.”
Cara nodded, preparing for the worst, but to her surprise, the wrap warmed like a heating pad. Tipping back her head, she closed her eyes in rapture and groaned, “Ah, that feels aweso—”
Suddenly her fist clenched around the pearl button. The warmth shot from soothing to unbearable in an instant, as if the medic had turned a stove burner from low to volcanic. Her skin burned while scorching heat filled her lungs, forcing up ripples of nausea. She swallowed down bile as beads of sweat dotted her upper lip.
Then an ungodly tightness squeezed her chest like a blood pressure cuff, stealing her breath and forcing the heat into her face, where it settled inside her throbbing cheek. Slightly unpleasant, my ass! She closed the one eye that hadn’t already swollen shut and tried to stay calm, but the pain was too intense. Just as she was about to cry out, the pressure released and the wrap cooled just as suddenly as it had flared.
Relief was instantaneous, but Cara inhaled deeply through her nose to clear away leftover queasiness. The medic removed the wrap and encouraged Cara to stand. “Move around and tell me if you feel any pain.”
She hopped down from the table and twisted her torso from side to side—tentatively at first, but then with more enthusiasm. “Wow, that’s amazing! I feel perfect.” Whoa, almost. The walls began to blur and swirl around her. She grabbed the edge of the table and cupped a hand over her swollen eye. “I’m still a little dizzy.”
“I haven’t scanned your head yet,” the girl said, reaching for the metal rod Cara had noticed earlier and then holding it to the back of her skull. “Just a fracture of the lateral orbital rim. It won’t take long. Then we’ll start on your bruises.”
“Oh, the bludgeoning stick’s an X-ray machine.” She’d never have guessed it.
“Pardon?” the girl asked, looking from the instrument in her hand back to Cara.
“Nothing, just talking to myself.”
After using a less painful, headband-size heated wrap to mend Cara’s fracture, the medic pulled a clear gel pad from a drawer beneath the exam table and filled a hypodermic needle with milky fluid. She shook the gel pad, and it began to emit a purple glow.
“This,” she said, holding up the needle, “will help your body reabsorb the blood from your bruises. And this”—she nodded toward the pad—“will heal the underlying tissue. Watch.”
She began with a softball-size bruise above Cara’s waist, injecting the white liquid until a pocket bubbled up from her skin. It stung, but this was a mosquito bite compared to getting dropkicked in the chest. Then the medic rested the glowing purple gel pack lightly atop the bruise and applied gentle pressure, pushing down a little harder as the seconds passed. When she lifted the pad, all traces of the bruise were gone.
“Wow,” Cara whispered.
After healing her cheek and puffy eye, the medic concluded Cara’s treatment with a fahren wrap: tingling, muddy goop that smoothed every last cut and scrape from her skin, leaving it soft and flawless. Maybelline had nothing on the L’eihrs. After sponging off and changing into a tan and gray uniform, she pulled her hair into a low ponytail and grinned at her reflection in the mirror—the ultimate L’annabe, minus the spray tan. Ashley would’ve been proud.
“Thanks.” Cara hesitated, then touched the medic’s forearm. The girl might feel the same aversion to contact Aelyx once did, but Cara needed to express her gratitude, not only for the medical care but for her kindness.
The girl did flinch beneath Cara’s fingers and pulled away, but she softened the rejection with a gentle smile. “I’ll take you to Aelyx. I know he’ll be glad to see you.”
Flutters tickled the inside of Cara’s belly at the mere thought of him. She followed her guide along the winding corridors, finally taking the opportunity to study her surroundings. When they’d first approached the main ship, she’d been too busy trying to stop dry heaving to spare a glance out the shuttle window, and Aelyx had whisked her away to the medic right afterward. Honestly, though, there wasn’t much to see, at least not at the moment. Everything—halls, floors, doors—was a monotony of metallic gray. The transport was like a floating labyrinth, a maze of sleek and simple silvery passages. She wondered how she’d ever find her way alone.
“There.” The girl pointed to the end of the hallway, where Aelyx stood, locked in Silent Speech with a petite female Cara recognized as Syrine. Considering the rigid set of their folded arms, this wasn’t a friendly gab session. After a quick two-fingered touch to Cara’s throat, the medic left her and returned to the clinic.
Suddenly chilled again, Cara leaned against the wall and chaffed her hands while studying Aelyx and his best friend, the lovely emotional healer who saw into his soul. Not that she was jealous or anything.
Aelyx’s honey-brown hair, now too short for a ponytail, fell over his brow, and he shoved it behind his ears before resuming the “argument.” They were fighting about her. She knew it. After what’d happened to that poor boy in China, she couldn’t blame the L’eihrs for icing her out, but at the same time, she hadn’t expected such an evolved race to hold her accountable for a murder she didn’t commit. She’d stood by Aelyx even after her community shunned her—didn’t that count for anything?
Judging by the way Syrine had just shoved Aelyx’s chest, the answer was no.
Maybe she shouldn’t interrupt. Cara hugged herself, shivering against the wall as she worked up the courage to keep moving.
Help you? Syrine pounded her fists against Aelyx’s sternum, reminding him of the time he’d taken Cara to the boxing gym to help her get back her “fight.” It seemed Syrine had returned from Earth with a little too much of it. You’re delusional if you think I’ll help you save the cretins who killed Eron!
So you’d punish billions for the crimes of a few?
Yes! This wasn’t the same Syrine he’d known for a lifetime—not this girl with snarled lips, her teeth bared like a rabid animal. I hate them all! Even your precious Elire!
He shrank back at the dark undertones in her thoughts. She’s part of me. Aelyx closed the distance between them and gripped Syrine’s upper arm. He had to make her understand. A threat against her is a threat against me.
Suddenly, Cara’s porcelain fingers curled around his hand, startling him into relaxing his grip. “You okay?” Tilting her head, she regarded him with wide eyes, her face radiant and healed and so stunning it made his breath catch.
He stepped back and took in Cara’s uniform as an involuntary smile played on his lips. The simple tan tunic seemed more out of place on her shoulders than the jewels on Mr. Manuel’s toilet seat back on Earth, yet the sight made his heart swell until it bumped his lungs. He loved seeing her in his people’s clothing. It was a reminder that she’d chosen a life with him, impossible as it seemed.