by Rinelle Grey
It was much easier to forgive another’s mistakes than it was your own.
How did she know all this about him when they could barely communicate? Kugah had done a marvellous job, learning enough of their language to be able to type his thoughts clearly. Still, it was obviously an effort, and she could sense ten times as much unsaid as he said.
She’d only caught tiny glimpses of his past, more in the unwritten words between what he’d actually said, but it was enough.
Enough to know that his intentions were good. And he’d more than shown that he was prepared to back up those intentions with action. He wanted to do better, and make up for the mistakes he’d made.
That was enough for her.
Would it be enough for him?
Did it even really matter?
What a silly question. Of course it mattered. Just because the common perception of love was based on a sexual relationship didn’t mean that was the only way it could be.
Or that actual sex was the only way to connect physically.
Amelie blushed at that thought. Kugah seemed to enjoy touching her. He kept doing it at least. She could show him some ways that would be even more fun. They wouldn’t even need very many words.
She shook her head. Really, she was jumping ahead a little. All he’d said was that it meant a lot to him that she wouldn’t be upset if they were the only two left alive on the spaceship. To jump from that to an intimate relationship was a bit far-fetched.
Amelie shook her head. There wasn’t time for any of this right now. They’d have time to think about their relationship after this medical crisis was over, and everyone was safe.
Or dead.
The thought threw cold water on any desire she might have felt.
Chapter 24
It took Kugah a little while to realise that Amelie had fallen asleep leaning against his chest, her arms around baby Camali. When her breathing slowed and became shallower, he twisted his head to look down and found her eyes closed and her face peaceful.
The realisation made him feel good. Really good.
When he’d first walked into this spaceship, he’d doubted that any of the humans would ever come to trust him. Falling asleep on him was the ultimate sign of that trust.
That that person was Amelie was doubly sweet.
Kugah glanced around the room, but for the first time since Folly had walked into med bay, there didn’t seem to be any emergencies to deal with. He could let her get the sleep she desperately needed.
Kugah relaxed back, being careful not to wake Amelie or Camali. He found a comfortable position where he could relax and watch them sleep. It was so quiet that he almost found himself drifting off.
Except that out of the blue, he felt uncomfortable.
He was being watched.
Kugah stared around the room, glad the armour prevented the tensing of his muscles being felt by Amelie. He didn’t want to wake her if it was nothing. If the person watching him was one of those who disliked him though, he might have to.
His muscles relaxed when he realised it was Tyris, making the rounds of the cargo bay, checking up on people. He was pretty sure he had nothing to fear from the ship’s captain. Even though he had been uncertain about Kerit’s invitation, Tyris had never been anything but fair.
Yet Tyris was frowning at him.
Or more accurately, at Amelie on his chest.
Kugah wanted to defend her, to explain to the captain that she had worked herself into exhaustion, and needed to rest to be able to deal with the new round of issues she’d undoubtedly wake up to.
Before he could open his mouth it hit him. Tyris wasn’t concerned about Amelie being asleep. He was concerned about where she was sleeping.
Kugah felt his lips attempt to twist into a sneer. Amazing that those old muscles were still there, and still twitching, even if they didn’t have a hope of bending the armour that coated even his lips.
Tyris’s face made enough of an expression of distaste for both of them. Kugah half expected him to come over and ask what was going on, but he didn’t. He just turned away and continued with his rounds.
But the damage had already been done. Kugah’s moment of peace had been shattered by reality.
Even if, by some miracle, Amelie cared about him, and they found a way to make this strange relationship work, the others on the ship would never accept it. Even those who weren’t afraid of him would be repulsed by the idea of Amelie loving him.
They may accept him, to a degree, but they still saw him as a monster. Not human. Not like them.
Unable to be loved.
Kugah knew that. He knew he didn’t deserve Amelie’s love.
But if, by some miracle, she chose to give it to him, he’d fight tooth and nail to keep it.
Even as he thought the words, he realised that he couldn’t. He couldn’t ask her to be with him if it meant being excluded from her people. He knew enough about being excluded, enough about the loneliness it brought, to never wish that on anyone. Especially not on someone he loved.
Better to watch Amelie from afar and see her be happy, than be closer and watch her sadness grow into bitterness.
Kugah exhaled, feeling all his hope go out with the breath.
Why was it always like this? Why did he always miss out on the things he wanted in life?
His thoughts were interrupted by a cry from the infant on Amelie’s chest.
So much for sleep.
She jumped up quickly, and started seeing to the infant’s needs. Food, bouncing, cuddles. The baby’s cries didn’t last long, and she stayed awake longer this time, watching everything from the sling with wide eyes as Amelie did the rounds, checking on all her patients. She paused to talk to Tyris, just intensifying the ache in Kugah’s heart.
Kugah stayed where he was, the pain of being near her was too much right now. Even so, his eyes followed her. He couldn’t help it.
How had he become so obsessed over a human? And so quickly.
Amelie was on the other side of the room, bending over Imyne drawing blood, when Kugah realised he was being watched again. He didn’t even need to turn to guess it would be Tyris. The stare just felt the same.
Kugah’s eyes met Tyris’s, and the captain seemed to take it as an invitation. He pulled up Amelie’s rolling chair, and sat on it backwards, his arms crossed on the back. “How are you going, Kugah? Amelie tells me we have you to thank for this possible treatment, but that it cost you.”
Kugah typed carelessly on the tablet, not even bothering with all the words. Let Tyris think he didn’t know them. “Kugah fine. Amelie worry needlessly.”
Tyris nodded. “She’s a doctor, that’s her job. She needs to make sure everyone is okay, not just those who are sick.”
Kugah jerked his head in a nod. What did Tyris expect him to say to that? Why was he here anyway? It certainly wasn’t out of concern for Kugah.
Tyris ran his hand through his hair, a sign Kugah had realised indicted he was nervous. Then he looked at Kugah, and said, “Doctors care about all their patients, but it’s best not to confuse that caring with something more.”
There it was. The warning.
Because it couldn’t be anything else. Not unless Tyris thought Kugah was stupid. He could tell what was doctor concern and what was personal as clearly as the next person.
From the uncomfortable look on his face, so could Tyris.
Unexpectedly, the look made Kugah feel good. Because if Tyris was worried, then it meant he thought Amelie did care about him. And the human could probably tell, couldn’t he?
That made Kugah feel confident enough to type, “Kugah not confused.”
Tyris nodded, but he didn’t look satisfied. He moved on the seat, swinging it from side to side for a moment, then said, “Amelie is under a lot of pressure right now, as I’m sure you know. The last thing she needs is to be feeling conflicted over…” he trailed off.
Kugah recognised Amelie’s small, neat footsteps without having t
o shift his eyes, which meant he saw the uncomfortable look deepen on Tyris’s face.
“Feeling conflicted over what?” Amelie demanded, her hands on her hips.
Tyris’s answer was a little too quick. “Over those who have refused treatment because of where the treatment came from.”
Amelie frowned, and Kugah was pretty sure she realised Tyris was covering for something. “It’s their problem they’re refusing help, not mine. Of course I wish they wouldn’t, but the truth is, there’s not even any proof it’s going to work yet. If there is, they could change their mind, and hopefully this will give us that proof.” She held up a vial of blood.
That shifted Tyris’s focus. “Is that what you were doing with Mum?”
Amelie nodded, and waved her hand to indicate he vacate the chair, which he hurriedly did. She rolled the chair back in near the computer and began preparing the sample.
Tyris watched, not saying anything, but not leaving either.
After a few long moments, Amelie sighed. “This is going to take a while. I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything.”
Tyris nodded, even though Amelie didn’t look back at him. “As soon as you have anything,” he reminded her. He took one look at Kugah, and nodded as though they had an understanding.
Which they didn’t. Kugah might be able to see the issues as well, maybe even better, than Tyris could, but that didn’t mean he was going to walk away. Not if there was any chance they could make this work.
If there was anything to make work.
After Tyris had returned to his wife’s bedside, Kugah was free to watch Amelie work unchallenged. She was completely focused, unaware of his attention.
She bit her bottom lip, and adjusted something, then tapped a few things on her computer, then bent back over the sample again. The baby, still strapped to her chest, fussed, and she rubbed her back and jiggled up and down a few moments, her eyes never leaving the screen, until the baby settled again.
Kugah wasn’t sure how long she worked. He never grew tired of staring at her.
Finally, she pushed back her chair and turned to him, a smile splitting her face. “It works.” Her words were quiet, but filled with relief. “The radiation in Imyne’s blood is almost half what it was yesterday. That’s very fast. It should be gone, for all practical purposes, by this time tomorrow. Hopefully that will stop the advanced ageing.”
Her voice wavered on the last sentence, and Kugah understood. Hopefully being the key word. There was really no knowing exactly how this would progress from this point.
Tyris must have been watching them, because he reappeared before Kugah could ask any more questions. “Did it work?” he demanded.
Amelie nodded. “It did,” she confirmed, and repeated her results for Tyris. “If we can remove the radiation, we can return the speed of ageing to normal. That might just buy us time to find a solution to this.”
Tyris’s forehead furrowed, but he nodded. “It’s a start,” he said. “I’ll talk to those who refused treatment and see if I can change their minds.”
“Good luck,” Amelie said with a smile.
Once he was out of earshot, Amelie turned to Kugah and gave him a smile. “He’s a good captain,” she said. “He means well, even if he is sometimes a little intrusive.”
Kugah’s muscles tensed. Was her statement an indication that she had heard more of Tyris’s earlier conversation than she let on? He picked up the tablet and typed, “What do you mean?”
“He thinks he’s protecting me,” Amelie said quietly. “That I somehow have no idea what I’m doing by… by being friends with you.” Her face turned red, as though the room had suddenly become too warm. Since Kugah could tell that the atmospheric conditions inside the cargo bay hadn’t changed, he was pretty sure it was an emotional reaction.
He had to admit, his own body felt a little warmer all of a sudden too. He fiddled with the tablet for a moment, trying to think of what to type. Finally, he spelled out the word, “Friends,” and added a question mark after it.
He held his breath, waiting for her reaction.
Common sense told him now wasn’t the time. That Tyris was right about that fact at least—Amelie had more than enough on her mind right now without him adding to it.
But he had to know, even if her answer was that yes, she meant friends.
Amelie’s face went even more red. “You know what I mean…” Then she sighed. “Actually, you probably don’t. I don’t even know how these things work on your planet. I struggle enough with figuring it out on mine.”
Her words were cryptic, but they gave Kugah enough of an idea. And an easy response. “On my planet, if a man wishes to show his interest in a woman, he invites her to his place of work so that she can judge if he will be a good provider for her.”
As he typed the words, Kugah’s heart constricted. He had no workplace. No way of providing for himself, let alone a partner. His comment would only make Amelie, who could very well provide for herself, realise he was useless.
He almost deleted the words, except that Amelie was already leaning over the tablet reading them.
Amelie looked up at him, her face registering understanding and sympathy.
Kugah almost cringed under her expression. He didn’t want pity.
He wanted so much more than that.
What she said though, was, “There are many ways of providing for someone. Income is only one. A pretty irrelevant one out here. Emotional support and actual assistance in all the tasks that need to be done is far more important.”
Kugah exhaled in a sigh, and his heart swelled just a little more with love. How did she always know just the right thing to say? How was it always so true? “Amelie is wise,” he typed.
She shook her head and gave a laugh. “Not me. I didn’t realise any of this until Marlee showed me. Her people had to rely on each other on Zerris. Money was useless to them. Marlee showed me that most of the things I thought were important were useless and fake. That’s why I’m here.”
As she said the words, Kugah realised that his reason was similar. They’d moved away from the topic he wanted to pursue, whether Amelie actually liked him or not, but this one was too interesting to divert from. Yet.
“I realised that what my people valued was flawed too,” he typed. “They said they wanted peace, and accepted everyone, but they didn’t accept me once I was changed. They couldn’t see that the change was external, not internal. They didn’t even bother to try to find out. They were just hiding. From the others. From themselves.”
“And you couldn’t hide anymore,” Amelie said softly. She put her hand on his arm, her fingers warm and gentle. “It must have taken a lot of courage to leave like you did.”
“Not courage,” Kugah growled as he typed. “I left because I was afraid. Afraid of what I was becoming.”
“So did I,” Amelie said softly. “If I had stayed, and accepted what they wanted me to do, then I would have been no better than the rest of them. That doesn’t mean that leaving is the coward’s choice. It takes courage to step outside what we know, even if we’re hoping for something better.”
“But you were actively trying to make something better,” Kugah argued. “I was just running.”
“That’s because I had people with me, to help me see that was possible. I doubt I could have done this alone. I doubt I would have had the courage to try.”
Was Amelie right? Had he been brave to leave, not scared? The thought was foreign to Kugah. He shook his head. “My people say there is no courage in running. No more than there is in fighting. That it’s showing up each day, and continuing to do the work needed to support a community, no matter what. I failed in that.”
Amelie’s nose wrinkled. “If you disagree with something, how is doing nothing going to help? Running or fighting, both are viable reactions to an impossible situation, but just doing nothing? Continuing as if nothing had happened? What do they hope to gain from that?”
Kugah had heard
his people’s philosophy enough times to be able to repeat it word for word, even though translating it into another language slowed him down a little. “The mountain does not run or fight, it simply stands, year after year, as storms and winds rage around it. It weathers the changes, and once the storm is gone, it remains.”
“A mountain cannot run or fight,” Amelie said firmly. “And because of that, when it gets in our way, we simply tunnel through it or knock it down. Doing nothing doesn’t help it at all. If we refuse to fight, then we have no control over our lives. Do your people not fight for what they believe in? Did they not fight when the Gokak came to your home planet?”
“No,” Kugah typed, sorrow in his heart. “The Gokak wanted to fight, but when my people refused, they simply moved in. Everyone said that it was our lack of opposition that saved us. If we had fought, they would have wiped us out. If we had run, we would have lost everything we had built for ourselves.”
“Do you believe that?” Amelie said softly. “Do you believe you didn’t lose anything?”
“No,” Kugah spoke, his voice hollow. He typed the rest of his thoughts. “I no longer believe that. That is why I ran. And why I can never go back.”
Amelie’s eyes widened at that. “You mean you aren’t trying to find your way home?” She shook her head. “I mean, of course not, given your story, but… Tyris and Kerit thought you were.”
Kugah shook his head. “I didn’t have the language to explain to them that I didn’t want to go home, I was looking for a new home.” He deleted the last sentence as Amelie watched, and wrote, “I am looking for a new home.”
Absently patting the baby on her chest, Amelie was silent for a few moments. When she looked up at him, her eyes were dark, reflecting his face. “Do you think...? Well, we’re looking for a new home too. Maybe the same planet will suit both of us?”
Kugah’s heart lifted. He typed slowly and carefully, thinking about each word to be sure it was right. “We seem to need the same atmospheric conditions, so the same type of planet that you can live on, I certainly can survive on. I’m not sure everyone would be happy to have me there though.”
