by Cynthia Sax
Sisko would never forgive her.
As Allinen would never forgive herself.
She peered around her cyborg’s big form, needing to see, to verify the truth she already knew.
Vauva’s face was serene, more peaceful looking than it had ever been in life. Her eyes were closed. Her light was completely extinguished.
Allinen’s heart, already ripped apart, fragmented even more. Her vision blurred. Tears dripped off her chin.
Doc rubbed her back, stroked her hair. His strength, his warmth, were the only things fixing her to the present, to this world.
Because everything else felt unreal. Three planet rotations ago, her niece had been her vibrant, unruly self, arguing about what she would or would not do, complaining about the mother everyone knew she loved. Now, she was dead, all of that energy snuffed out. Gone.
Allinen struggled to come to grips with that. She half expected Vauva to open her eyes and tell her to stop gawking at her.
“My daughter needs blood.” Her sister was in greater denial than she was. “The tool you used to transfer it is on the horizontal support.”
Doc stiffened. His hold on her grew fierce.
Allinen wouldn’t force her cyborg to tell Sisko. “We don’t need the transfusion gun.” She met her sister’s gaze. “Not for Vauva. Not anymore.”
“No, she needs your blood.” Sisko’s tone became panicked. “Your blood will heal her, Allinen.”
“I would do anything for Vauva. You know that.” Allinen moved closer to her sister.
Her cyborg, her mate, moved with her. He pressed his big body against her back, silently telling her he was there for her, his presence giving her the power to be the messenger, to convey the brutal truth.
“But there isn’t anything more to be done.” She took her sister’s hands. Her fingers were as warm as Allinen’s were cold. “My niece, your daughter, is gone.”
“No.” Sisko snatched her hands away from her. “She’s not gone.” Her gaze slid from Allinen’s, her sister unable to look at her as she rejected the truth. “My daughter is strong. She’ll recover from this.”
Her niece wasn’t recovering from anything. Pain pierced Allinen’s heart. “Sisko—”
“No.” Her sister turned her back toward her. “You don’t know her like I do.” Sisko reached out with shaking hands and smoothed back a lock of her dead daughter’s hair. “You’re not her mother.”
Allinen gazed at her sister, not knowing what to do, what to say.
Sisko lifted her daughter’s fingers to her face, nuzzled against them. “She’ll come back to me. We have our arguments, as mothers and daughters do, and she storms off, but she always returns. Always.”
Clouds above. Tears streamed down Allinen’s face. Her sister’s denial was excruciating to witness.
“I’m waiting for you as I always do, daughter.” Sweat beaded on Sisko’s forehead. “When you wake up, I’ll be here.”
A sob escaped Allinen’s lips. It was too much. She couldn’t bear to listen to it. It was ripping her in two. She looked at Lanko, seeking assistance.
The male’s fingers were clenched into tight fists. His eyes blazed with a sorrow-fueled fury. “Go.” He jerked his head toward the door. “You’ve done enough damage to my family.”
He blamed her…as he should.
Allinen tried to stand. Her legs wouldn’t cooperate, giving out under her. She fell.
Her cyborg caught her before she hit the floor, swung her into his arms. He stalked out of the domicile with her, not uttering a single word, not making a single sound.
She expected him to keep going once he carried her over the threshold. It was clear their company was no longer wanted…by her sister’s mate, by her sister, by anyone.
Instead, he conveyed her to the darkened pathway and leaned against the exterior of her domicile, holding her close to his chest.
She gripped his shoulders, solidifying their physical connection, using the contact to center herself, to stabilize her turbulent emotions.
“Both of them will blame me for Vauva’s death.” Lanko already did that. Sisko, when she finally accepted reality, would blame her also. “I doubt my sister will ever talk to me again.” Sadness threatened to overcome her again. “We should go.”
“We’re staying.” Doc’s tone didn’t allow for any argument. “Your sister will need you. And you’re not to blame for your niece’s death.” He released a heavy sigh. “I am.”
She frowned at him. “You tried to save her.”
“I failed to do that.” He met her gaze and she sucked in her breath. “I failed you.” Torment and regret and a hint of fear reflected in his gray eyes. “You trusted me to repair the being you loved. I betrayed your trust.”
“I trusted you to do your best.” Allinen touched his face, a swell of caring, of love, rising within her. She loved him, her cyborg, her outsider, her medic, her beast. “You did your best. No healer could have done more.”
He lowered his head, pushing his cheeks into her palms. “If I had more knowledge, more experience, I might have been able to save her.”
She doubted that. “You contacted the top experts and they weren’t able to relay a cure.” He had told her he’d sent a message to all of his kind, seeking help. “If anyone is to be blamed for Vauva’s death, it would be me. I knew her curious nature, should have known she’d disobey me and leave the settlement, track down an outsider.”
“Contact with an outsider…like me…killed her.” Her cyborg winced.
“Not like you.” She rested her forehead against his. “There’s no one like you…mate.”
His eyes glowed. “Mate.”
After a lifespan of being alone, she had found the being she was destined to be with, and with him by her side, she would survive her loss.
The grief she felt was excruciating. As another wave of sorrow hit her, she huddled against her cyborg and cried silent tears.
He stroked her arms and talked of his past, of the friends, the brethren he’d lost. His low deep voice soothed her. His sharing told her he understood her sadness.
A gut-twisting scream sliced through the air, followed by another, and another. The sounds came from her domicile.
“My sister needs me.” Allinen wiggled.
“She doesn’t need you, not now, not yet.” Her cyborg didn’t release her.
“She’s grieving. I should be with her.” As she had been with her sister when their parents had died.
“Her mate is with her.” Doc denied her.
Allinen frowned. “But—”
“You blamed yourself.” His gaze locked with hers. “Your sister blames others.”
Her sister blamed her…and perhaps him. Allinen slumped against her cyborg. “That’s why I wanted to go. She doesn’t need me, won’t agree to talk with me or see me.”
“She will need you.” Her mate sounded certain about that.
Sisko would need her. That prospect provided Allinen with some comfort. Maybe she hadn’t lost her sister at the same time she’d lost her niece.
Maybe she had some family left.
The screaming stopped. A stretch of unnerving silence followed.
A pain-edged howl broke the quiet. The source was male. It must have come from Lanko, but he wasn’t the kind to express his emotions vocally, not like that.
Doc straightened, gathering Allinen closer to him. “Your sister needs you now.”
Foreboding flooded her. “She doesn’t need my comfort.” She hoped that guess was wrong.
“She needs your blood.” He dashed that hope as he conveyed her into the domicile.
Lanko kneeled on the dirt floor beside the sleeping support. The male was painstakingly neat. It was unsettling to see him sullying his garment that way.
The horizontal was now occupied by two beings—his dead daughter and his mate. Both females had their eyes shut.
Sisko’s light was lower than normal. Her body trembled.
Allinen’s stomac
h twisted. “My sister has fallen ill also.”
“You.” Lanko jumped to his feet and spun around. “I’ll kill both of you for doing this to them.” He lowered his head and charged them.
Allinen braced for pain.
Her cyborg’s fist shot out, connected with Lanko’s head. Flesh smacked against flesh and her sister’s mate flew across the chamber.
Lanko’s back hit a wall. The male whimpered and slid to the dirt floor.
Allinen’s mouth dropped open. She’d never seen her sister’s mate attack anyone. Lanko believed fighting was beneath him.
Her gaze lifted and met Doc’s. “That wasn’t like him.” If the male wasn’t slumped against the wall, she would have questioned that the confrontation had happened. “There must be a little bit of the beast inside every male.”
“If that was my female on the sleeping support, beings would see more than a little bit of my beast.” Her cyborg’s voice was rough with emotion. “When he regains consciousness, I’ll give him the battle he requires.” Doc carried her toward the sleeping support. “Your sister is our priority now.”
“She is our only priority.” Allinen told him. “We have to save her.”
She felt some doubt about accomplishing that feat when she saw her sister’s face. Laid by Vauva’s side, Sisko’s resemblance to her daughter was unmistakable. One was a physical miniature of the other.
But they weren’t the same being. Allinen reminded herself. They wouldn’t share the same fate.
“Sisko is strong, fully mature, stubborner than all of us combined.” She forced that joke. “And we know how to slow the sickness now.”
Her cyborg pressed the muzzle of the transfusion gun against her arm. “We know how to slow it.”
They didn’t know how to stop it.
“We will repair her.” She used her cyborg’s terminology for it. “My sister might hate me forever.” Allinen gazed up at Doc. “She might never speak to me again, but I won’t let her die, mate. I can’t.” Her voice stretched, pulled tight by terror over that prospect. “That would break me.”
“You’re my female. I would trade my lifespan for yours, would do anything to stop you from being damaged.” He brushed his lips against hers. “Others are searching for a repair. While we wait, we’ll slow the progress of the illness as much as we can.”
Allinen hoped their combined efforts would be enough to save her sister.
* * *
More and more of her blood was relayed. Between transfusions, they ate and drank and rested. Doc used an energy booster he’d brought with him to restore him to full power. Together, they tended to her sister. Sisko was scarily still but her breathing remained deep.
She would survive.
Lanko regained consciousness. He glared at them for a while.
“Sisko might respond to your touch.” Allinen repositioned her body so he could view her sister’s face.
Lanko’s gaze shifted to his mate. His expression turned bleak. “Can’t.” He shuddered.
Allinen frowned. She hadn’t asked for much—merely that he touch his mate. “She needs—”
“No.” After uttering that one-word refusal, Lanko, the male she’d always viewed as an ideal Khambalian, left. He rushed out of the domicile as though he sought to escape, to flee the illness and the death and all of his responsibilities.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Allinen stared after her sister’s mate. She was stunned, horrified, confused. “He can’t handle this.”
“I’ve seen humans and humanoids malfunction the same way in battle.” Doc shook his head, his tone edged with disapproval. “The beings are unable to move forward so they go backward. They run.”
His gaze shifted, locking with hers.
“I wouldn’t run.” Her male’s tone was solemn, that statement issued like a vow. “Cyborgs have been tested. Many times. We moved forward or we died.”
The more he told her of his dark, pain-filled past, the more she realized how strong he was and how lucky she was to have him for her mate.
“I know you wouldn’t run.” She hoped she wouldn’t either.
“I would remain by your side.” Her cyborg bracketed her cheeks with his big hands. “And I would fight for you.” He released her. “Whether you wanted me there or not.”
She caught his hands, gripping them tightly. “I’ll always want you by my side.”
Doc looked pointedly at her sister.
Sisko could die. They didn’t yet have a repair for the illness.
“Always.” Allinen stressed that point. “And I expect you to repair me if I break.” She would break if her sister died. That loss would split her into two.
“I’ll repair you.” As he issued that second vow, he pulled her into his arms. “You should sleep.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Your energy levels are low.”
Her energy levels weren’t low. They were non-existent.
A long rest wasn’t possible. Her sister needed her. But she could close her eyes for a moment.
As soon as she did that, she drifted into the darkness.
* * *
The slam of the door woke her.
“All of my daughter’s friends have died.” Lanko announced that heart-wrenching development to the chamber, his gaze slightly unfocused. “This illness you’ve brought to us has killed every single one of them. An entire solar cycle of beings has been erased.”
The clouds above. Allinen gripped her cyborg’s arms, holding onto him, her only source of stability, of shelter in a hostile, sorrow-strewn world.
“Ten of the friends’ siblings have already died.” Lanko moved to his mate’s side and gazed down at her.
Deep lines were carved into his beautiful face. He looked older than his number of solar cycles. The past planet rotations had aged him.
“There are no babies with less than two solar cycles left alive.” Her sister’s mate layered horror on top of horror. “Two of the elders have perished. Almost every domicile has someone critically ill.” His shoulders rounded. “This will be the end of us.”
If they didn’t find a repair soon, she would be the last of her kind. All of the beings she’d spent most of her lifespan interacting with would be dead.
Part of her wanted to leave the settlement and the planet before that happened, before she lost her sister, her sister’s mate, everyone she knew. If she departed now, she could spare herself some grief, could tell herself they had recovered, were healthy and happy and very much alive.
But she couldn’t abandon Sisko, not when her sister needed her the most, not during what could very much be her sister’s final moments. She had to see this through to its horrific end.
Paha teeth. This would tear her apart.
She gazed up at her cyborg.
Some of her hopelessness must have shown. His chin lifted and his back straightened. “This is an ancient illness. Someone must have research on it that we haven’t yet accessed. I’ve contacted millions of cyborgs. One of them might uncover the repair that will work with your kind.”
She noticed her always precise male didn’t assign a probability to that happening. It must be low.
But it wasn’t zero. “While we wait for that to happen, we keep Sisko alive.”
Doc nodded.
She redirected her attention to Lanko. “Your mate requires beverage.”
The male opened his mouth.
“That wasn’t a request.” She wouldn’t allow him to run again. “Sisko needs you and we do too. If we’re going to beat this illness, we have to work together.”
“You caused this illness.” Lanko glowered at her. “My daughter’s death is your fault. The fate of my mate is—”
“Is my fault.” She accepted that blame. “I know you hate me, but don’t punish your mate for my wrongdoings. Hold her hand. Show her you love her. Give her a reason not to give up.”
Because she suspected her sister wasn’t fighting as hard as she could. The loss of Va
uva had extinguished some of her will to live.
Lanko grumbled but he reached for the container of beverage.
Doc squeezed Allinen’s fingers. “I’m honored to call you my female.”
Her lips trembled. He was proud to be her mate.
She needed to hear that.
Chapter Fifteen
A cyborg’s primary mission was to protect his female from any and all threats.
A medic’s primary mission was to repair his patients.
Doc would soon fail both of his missions…for the second time.
The sister was dying. They’d slowed that process but it would happen. There was no cure for the illness, none that he or his brethren or his brethren’s expert females could uncover, none that worked with the Khambalians’ unique physiology.
The ending of the sister’s lifespan would emotionally damage his female. Severely. He didn’t know how to minimize its impact on Allinen.
That was another failing. He pressed his lips together and injected the sister with more of his female’s blood.
Allinen rested, curled up on his lap, her slender fingers splayed over his body armor-covered chest. Her touch eased his beast’s turmoil.
His machine side was weakened, had been strained from the futility of the situation. The savage part of him, however, hadn’t attempted to seize control. It seemed to realize doing so would hurt its mate.
The tasks he was responsible for had decreased in number. After Allinen’s talk with Lanko, the male was finally assisting them. He swept a cloth square over the sister’s face.
The cloth was fabricated by local beings. The obstinate male refused to utilize the more effective cleaning cloths, eschewing anything derived by an outsider.
The Khambalian continued to ignore him. That hadn’t changed. Doc sensed the anger and hatred rolling off Lanko.
His beast would have reacted the same way if its mate was lying on the sleeping support.
Doc would be the target of that rage. When the sister died, Lanko would take his frustration out on him, would attack him…again, with the same ineffectiveness. The Khambalian was slow and sloppy and—
