by Shea Malloy
Jonnar closed his eyes on a wince, the pain in his head mounting from the current difficult situation and the continuous wailing of the alarm. He slapped a hand on a button to silence the infernal noise, the groan and rumble of the ship somehow soothing in the quiet. But the scent of fried electrical circuits concerned him. The last thing he needed right now was a fire to add to this mess.
He searched for the calmness for which he was famous. This was not the first time he’d found himself in an impossible situation from which he had to escape unscathed, and this certainly wouldn’t be his last. Not for anyone on this ship.
His grip tight on the controls, Jonnar forced the ship to decelerate its thrust, pulling back to work against the force pushing them. The ship groaned and rattled from the effort, but the dangerous nosedive lessened to a manageable fall as they broke the unknown planet’s atmosphere.
Sweat slid down the side of Jonnar’s face, rivulets sliding across his back and torso underneath his clothing, his palms clammy against the controls. His heart thudded in his chest, almost in sync with the throbbing in his head. He maintained a vigilant watch on his altitude readings and the scanner as it worked to find acceptable coordinates for landing.
“No water, no mountains, no trees,” he muttered. “Gods be damned, no trees.”
The gods answered his less than reverent demands. Craggy, copper red mountains gave way to a flat spread of ground. No visible obstructions came into view on the scanner and Jonnar set his sights on it through the viewport.
“Prepare yourself for a rough landing, Elder Olin,” Jonnar said.
“A better choice than a fiery grave, General,” the Elder responded, sounding unconcerned.
Jonnar quirked a corner of his mouth up into a dark smile as he nosed the ship into a low glide. Half of its stabilizers damaged, the ship listed to the right. Its underside was parallel to the ground now. Jonnar held his breath, every bit of him rigid as stone as he waited for the moment of impact.
Jonnar grunted at the first harsh bump when the ship touched the ground. Metal squealed in protest as the ship dragged across the rough, uneven terrain. Plumes of dust obscured his vision through the viewport, and bits of dirt and rock slapped against the belly of the ship. Clenching his teeth, Jonnar held onto his controls with fierce determination, enduring the violent shaking despite the weakness in his limbs.
Then, finally, thankfully, the ship juddered to a stop.
The silence was deafening.
Never had relief felt so sweet.
—
His relief was short-lived.
Laying Jillian’s body down on the cot they’d shared earlier, Jonnar eyed her pale, unconscious form with far more concern than he’d felt trying not to crash the ship.
“Why is this happening?” he asked, sliding a finger along the greying hair roots at the top of her forehead. He’d long admired the chestnut colour framing her beautiful face. Though grey hair signified wisdom and respect, there was something insidious about the way it inched along each strand, her smooth skin wrinkling as well.
Her colour and her youth were being sapped.
“She is dying,” said the Elder in grave tones. “Her energy source has been depleted.”
“The wormhole jump,” Jonnar said, his fingers curled into tight fists as he struggled to control his anger and despair. “She is a human and not accustomed to its effects.” He swore as he got to his feet, stalking away from the cot, then back. “If I had prepared her… if I had put her in the sleeping pod—”
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” the Elder cut in. “But there is no value in questioning a path we’ve chosen, General. There is no good in looking back. We must only look forward and make new decisions.”
“And what decision can we make now, Elder?” Jonnar spat in misguided anger. A deep, gnawing sense of failure and regret lashed at him like a laser-whip over raw skin, clouding his reason and destroying his composure. “She is dying and I cannot save her. My Klara’s kin is dying because of me.”
“And because of you she will find new life,” said Elder Olin, gripping Jonnar’s arms to hold his attention. “You can save her, Jonnar.”
Elder Olin’s direct stare unnerved him. For years, the man had always seemed so distant from reality, his body existing in the present, yet his true self somewhere else beyond reach. Yet, twice in one day, Jonnar had witnessed the man come alive with determination.
Hope soared within Jonnar at the Elder’s words, though it was tempered by uncertainty.
“How?”
“By transferring some of your energy source into her body.”
Jonnar nodded. He didn’t need any further explanation. If this was a way to save Jillian, it had to be done.
“I will do it. Take as much as you need so she will live.”
“I must warn you that you suffered adverse effects from travelling through the disintegrating wormhole as well.” He released Jonnar, though his gaze remained unwavering. “As such, you have been weakened. You might die during the transferal.”
Jonnar’s gaze trained on Jillian as he moved to the cot, resolute in his decision.
“I don’t care, Elder. I don’t fear death. I will do what I must to ensure she lives.”
“There is one more thing I must say before we begin—”
“Gods be damned, man,” Jonnar snapped as he lay down beside Jillian on the tiny cot. “I have told you, I will endure whatever consequences if it means she will survive. We must hurry.”
“Indeed, we must,” said the Elder as he approached the bed. “But I will not be alive when the transferal is complete, as this process requires three Elders, whereas I am only one. Yet it is my duty to do whatever I can to save my Klara’s kin. Therefore, I must tell you now, General, as it is important.” The Elder knelt beside the cot, watching him closely.
“What is it?” Jonnar asked in softer tones, humbled by the Elder’s admission that he was giving his life to save Jillian’s.
“To transfer your energy source to Yena Jillian, I must invoke the kainaan.”
Jonnar remained still. Of course. Every Omar being knew of the process of kainaan. It was the oldest tradition to exist on the planet. Elders extracted powerful pieces of energy source from a klar to be implanted in his mate. The result: a strong, intelligent babe. The young Paer Kelan was the product of kainaan.
“You understand what this means, General?” the Elder asked quietly.
Jonnar swallowed. “I do.” Of course he did. Saving Jillian meant giving a piece of himself, but there were consequences. Huge, life-changing consequences.
A child. Their child.
If he lived, he’d be a father—a title he’d never envisioned for himself. A duty for which he was completely unprepared and unsuited.
And if he died, his child would be fatherless. Just like him.
He wasn’t sure what fate was worse for the child.
And Jillian? Would she want this? He doubted it very much. He was not a man she would want to father her child. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t let her die.
He wouldn’t.
“I do,” Jonnar repeated with conviction. “But my mind is not changed. Let’s begin.” Then he clamped his hand on the Elder’s bony shoulder, his tone filled with regret. “Farewell, Elder Olin. May the gods reward your bravery.”
Elder Olin nodded, his smile serene as he pressed his hands against Jonnar’s chest.
“Farewell, General,” he said, sounding far away. Jonnar blinked rapidly as his vision blurred and his breath became shorter. “And may the gods grant you absolution by this sacrifice.”
Excruciating pain swallowed him whole, robbed him of his voice. He stretched his hands, begging for reprieve. Blissful darkness answered.
5
Jillian
—
Jillian sucked in air in a shuddering gasp and blinked her eyes open.
A funny leaden taste sat on her tongue and she swallowed, her breathing deep and ragged and loud
in the disturbing quiet. Some inexplicable terror kept her paralyzed as she stared wide-eyed at the low, metallic ceiling. It was if she’d just awoken from a nightmare. But the memories of whatever it was she’d been dreaming of had already flown away.
Where am I?
What’s going on?
She turned her head and her heart almost leaped out of her chest at the sight of Jonnar lying beside her. This moment felt familiar. Didn’t this happen before? Yes. She’d woken up to find Jonnar lying beside her earlier. Except he was awake and smiling at her. And then they’d talked. And then…
The alarm!
The memories rushed forward, pushing against her brain, each one demanding her attention. She remembered the alarm coming to life, Jonnar admitting they were being followed, the attack on the ship, the unfriendly man’s face, the bright red wormhole swallowing them in its depths, the fear, the terrible pain, then complete darkness. A nothingness she’d known she would never escape.
And yet she was awake. Alive.
“Jonnar,” she said, her voice hoarse.
He did not reply. His damp skin was paler than usual, and it didn’t look like he was breathing.
Is he alive?
“Jonnar,” she said again, trying not to give into the terror that Jonnar might be dead. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. She licked her dry lips, groaning from the stiffness in her limbs when she raised her hand to touch him. She felt debilitated, every movement sucking up a supreme amount of her energy. But she suffered it to shake Jonnar, her voice higher than usual from anxiety. “Please, Jonnar. Please wake up.”
Jonnar groaned. Oh, thank God. She exhaled and sank back onto the bed. He shifted, his eyes twitching behind closed eyelids. Then slowly, his eyes opened, his gaze finding hers immediately.
He said something in his alien language and reached a hand up to cup her face. The relief in his eyes and his intimate touch warmed Jillian completely, made her feel cherished. Her heart thumped stronger in her chest in the silence that stretched between them.
Emboldened, she lifted her hand to touch his, reveling in his warm, rough flesh against her skin. Why did something so innocent feel so monumental? His eyes darkened, the fierce want in the maroon depths stilling her breath and stirring her own desire. His thumb slid over her lips, a gentle promise Jillian ached for him to fulfill. She wanted to reach for him, pull him close, and kiss him with the joy and passion that they were both alive.
But Jonnar slipped his hand away as he raised himself in a sitting position. He looked down at the floor on his side of the cot, his features hardening, his fingers curling into tight fists.
“What’s wrong?” Jillian struggled up onto her elbows to peer over the side of the cot. Then she wished she hadn’t. She covered her mouth over a horrified gasp. The Elder lay sprawled on the floor, his eyes open, though lacking any sense of presence. “Is he okay?” She tried to creep over Jonnar’s legs, but he held her still.
“You cannot help him,” Jonnar said quietly. “He is gone.”
Jillian remembered likening the Elder to a living statue earlier, and it disturbed her to see his countenance remained unchanged even in death. She didn’t know the man, but the loss of his life still affected her. Saddened, she closed her eyes and shook her head as though unwilling to accept the truth.
“Why? How did he die? Was it because of the wormhole?”
“Yes,” Jonnar said abruptly, sliding his legs to the floor and pushing to his feet. He swayed, clearly weak and woozy, but he remained upright.
“But why are we still alive?” Jillian touched her face, realizing her glasses were missing. Then she cast her gaze about the room wildly, suddenly aware of the silence and the stillness. “And why aren’t we moving? Where are we?”
“You ask too many questions,” Jonnar snapped, his hand shaking as he ran it through his hair. He moved to the door with slow, unsteady steps, then he threw a forbidding look over his shoulder at her. “Wait here while I assess our situation.”
Jillian winced as she stood. Dizzy, she wavered on her feet but held her ground, her forehead creased in a frown.
“I need to know what’s going on,” she retorted, taking care to avoid the Elder’s limbs as she shuffled forward. “You can’t expect me to just sit and quietly accept all of this. I’m pretty sure we’re not where we intended to be, so where the hell are we?”
He faced her and spoke in a calmer voice. “We have landed, but I do not know where. My scanners will have further readings.” His features were inscrutable, closed off. Jillian grew suspicious. There was more he was not telling her.
“Okay, so what about him? He’s dead and we aren’t.” She pointed at the Elder’s prone body, glaring at Jonnar. “You need to tell me why.”
Silence pervaded, heavy and tense, weighing her down with increasing anxiety. Jonnar scowled and looked away from her. This alarmed Jillian. She hadn’t known Jonnar for long, but she knew this much: he was not a man who avoided things. Yet here he was, refusing to look at her while his fists tightened at his sides. He seemed conflicted. He had something to say, but he feared the consequence of uttering the words. What could be so horrible he didn’t want to tell her?
A niggling sense of dread appeared in the back of her mind. Did she… was it her fault that the Elder was dead?
No… oh god. No. Nothing could be worse than that.
“Tell me why, Jonnar,” she repeated, her voice higher and harder, her heart thudding in her chest. She wanted to hear the truth, yet didn’t. “Why is he dead?”
Finally, Jonnar pinned her with his gaze.
“Your energy source depleted rapidly after we passed through the wormhole. You were dying.”
Jillian opened her mouth on a soft, choked gasp, her dread growing. She knew what was coming.
“In order to save you, we transferred some of my energy source to your body,” Jonnar continued, his words clipped, listing off the facts with no emotion in his voice. “This was not a simple process. Elder Olin died.”
Jillian closed her eyes, tears forming after hearing the truth.
“You almost died, too,” she said, gripping the front of her shirt. “That’s why you’re weak. Elder Olin died and you almost died. Just to save me.”
Jillian cried in earnest. She should have felt grateful she was alive, but all she felt was crushing guilt. Someone had lost their life because of her. A complete stranger, at that. And Jonnar could have died too. She felt guiltier when she considered how much worse that reality would have been.
“There is more, Jillian,” Jonnar said, gripping her shoulders. There was a tightness to his voice now, as though the truth of the Elder’s death was like the better half of the bad news.
Jillian wiped away her tears, forcing herself to find strength.
“Whatever it is can’t be any worse than what you just told me.”
Jonnar dropped his hands from her shoulders.
“You are pregnant.”
“Wh-what?”
“Energy source transferal from a Dava male invokes an old Omaron tradition called the kainaan. Elder Olin extracted my essence and implanted it into your body.” His voice grew quieter, smoother. His eyes darkened, boring into hers. “While it healed you, it impregnated you with my child.”
Another silence followed. Jillian stared at Jonnar as though he had spoken his alien language to her in rapid fire sentences. But no. She understood every single word he’d said. Nevertheless, she shook her head, refusing to accept it. What he’d said was ridiculous. Impossible. The proof lay in past experiences.
“I can’t get pregnant,” she said, her voice firming with conviction. “I’m not pregnant.”
“You are,” he said in matter-of-fact tones. “You would not be alive if the implantation was unsuccessful.”
Jillian’s incredulity rose and she took a step back. Her surprise morphed into anger when his features remained stoic. Good god, he was telling the truth.
“How could you do this?”
“Then you should have let me die!” Jillian spat, enraged. She wanted to turn away from Jonnar, but she didn’t want to see Elder Olin’s body on the floor a few steps behind her either. She pushed her fingers into her hair, taking deep breaths to calm herself but failing miserably.
New tears pushed against the backs of her eyes. She told herself to find perspective. But fear never listened to reason. All fear told her was to expect the inevitable misery, the deep, dark, unpleasant pit of depression that would swallow her whole when her body failed her yet again.
Jonnar stepped closer to her, his voice like ice, his features stony.
“You disappoint me.”
Jillian glared at him through her tears. “You don’t understand—”
“What I understand is your ingratitude. Elder Olin sacrificed his life so you might live, yet here you stand wailing, preferring death than the prospect of bearing my child.”
Jillian didn’t know how to respond, her words trapped in her chest between anger and shame. He seemed ready to say more, but he turned his head abruptly as though he’d heard a noise.
And Jillian heard it too. Voices. Then a knocking sound along one side of the ship. Someone was outside.
Jonnar held his hand near one of the leg pockets of his flight suit. A device that looked like a gun slid free, snapping into his hand like it was magnetized.
Jillian ogled the gun in his hand with surprise. Megan had told her about Mikaal’s telekinetic abilities, but it was the first time she’d witnessed anything like it herself.
“Stay here,” he ordered, his voice still chilly. The doors slid open at his approach, sliding shut as he left the room. She listened to his receding footsteps, frozen where she stood with fear.
She felt weak. Mentally, physically, emotionally. I’m pregnant. Christ, she didn’t want to think about that. Not right now. Not ever. It probably wasn’t even true. She turned around to head back to the cot when she saw Elder Olin’s body on the floor. She spun to face the door again, distraught and uncertain what to do.
