Her Alien Forgemasters

by Susan Hayes

  “Helix fever.” Dani nodded. “Same disease, different name, but that’s got to be what it is. I was a medic back on Earth. I’ve seen this plenty of times.”

  Phaedra groaned. “I should have remembered that. I’m sorry, Dani. I’ve been dealing with a lot and I didn’t consider you might have insight.” Then she perked up. “But if it’s just star pox, that’s good news!”

  Dani looked thoughtfully at the images. “Possibly. But I have no idea how it will react in a new species. Pherans and Jeskyrans never catch this bug, but it jumps back and forth between humans and Torskis with no trouble. From what I’ve read, it can knock a Torski on their ass for weeks. In humans it’s unpleasant and debilitating for a week or so, but that’s about it.”

  There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone, and then Phaedra burst out laughing. She laughed until tears rolled down her face and everyone watched her with concern as she wiped her eyes, tried to speak, and then broke into another round of sniggering giggles.

  It was relief as much as amusement, Anya knew. She felt the same way. Tra’var wasn’t going to die from this, and she couldn’t have given it to him because she had been vaccinated against that ailment. So had every human here. It was part of the standard package everyone got if they spent any time traveling in space because the virus was as contagious as it was annoying.

  “Princess?” Yardan finally spoke. “I don’t understand what you find so funny.”

  Phaedra managed to compose herself enough to answer. “Of all the things in the galaxy it could be, it’s only star pox. I thought—but it’s nothing! Well, almost nothing. I’ve had it, and it sucked, but the way your people have been reacting you’d think half of them were on death’s door.”

  Dani cocked her head in confusion and then started to laugh. “Now I get it. They’ve never been sick before, so now they’ve all got the Vardarian version of the man-flu.”

  “Man-flu? I thought you said it was called star pox or helix fever. How many names does this accursed ailment have?” Yardan scowled at them in annoyed confusion.

  “Man-flu is a human term for… you know what, let’s not get into that right now,” Phaedra said with a smile. “The good news is that with this bug, serious illness is rare. Unless this is something wildly different, everyone should recover and be none the worse for the experience.”

  After that, the conversation derailed for a few minutes while everyone chattered, sharing what they knew about treatments and cures.

  Phaedra let it continue for a time and then raised her voice to bring everyone back on track. “This is good news. Everyone here is vaccinated against this. Right? If not, raise your hand.”

  No one did.

  “Dani, can you give us a crash course on how to help the sick? We might not be medics, but we can make sure everyone is taken care of.” Phaedra looked around the room. “If you do this, you might end up mated by the end of the day. If you’re not ready for that, you’re welcome to walk home or come with me to help me with my mates and any staff who fall ill. They’re all claimed, so you would be safe from the sharhal.”

  “I’ll go with you,” a dark-haired woman said softly. “I love it here, but I’m not ready for that step just yet.”

  “Okay, Suki is with me. Anyone else?”

  The rest shook their heads, even Kara.

  Maggie tapped her temple. “I’m relaying this to Striker. He’s going to gather up the rest of the cyborgs and meet us at the arena. They’re all immune, too, and we could use the help.”

  “You got the implant? When?” Anya asked.

  “While you were busy getting your sharhal on.” Maggie smirked at her.

  The other women turned to gawk at Anya. “You got claimed? What’s it like? Who?” The questions flew at her like a meteor swarm.

  “I’ll answer questions on the ride to the arena. Phae, you should get back to your males. I can help here and we’ll keep in contact. You and Yardan have some new updates to post to the colony.”

  Phaedra nodded and rose. “We do. And thank you, everyone. This is what Haven is supposed to be—a community looking after each other.”

  A round of cheers went up loudly enough no one heard Skye come in. The cyborg’s grim expression softened as she saw the hope on everyone’s face. “Does this mean we have a plan?”

  Yardan got to his feet but then lost his balance and made a grab for the table. He missed and hit the floor on his knees.

  Phaedra gasped and rushed over. “You stubborn fraxxing, idiot. You didn’t tell me you were sick, too.”

  He growled. “Not sick. Just got up too fast.”

  Skye walked over and extended her hand to the fallen spymaster. He took it and tried to get to his feet. Skye shook her head and bodily lifted him off the floor, draping his arm over her shoulders and grabbing him around the waist. “I got you.”

  Yardan grunted. “Apparently. Damned females shouldn’t be that strong. And I’m fine.”

  “Don’t let go of him, Skye. He’s not close to fine. Can you help me get him home?” Phaedra asked.

  “Sure thing. You can fill me in on what’s happening on the way.”

  Suki went to gather their coats and joined them at the door.

  “I’ll send you a summary of what you need to do and what to watch out for. It’s basic stuff,” Dani said.

  Anya took a deep breath and smiled a little. The future looked brighter than it had an hour ago. They still had challenges to face and a lot of work to do, but she wasn’t afraid of hard work.

  Now there was hope, she could admit the only thing she’d been afraid of was losing was her chance to spend the rest of her life with Damos and Tra’var.

  A new truth dawned brighter than the sun outside. Somewhere in the middle of the craziest time in her life, she’d gone and fallen in love. As usual, her timing was spectacular.

  13

  Tra’var dozed off on the short ride to the arena. He dreamed a little, but when something startled him awake all he could recall was that his dreams had been as vivid as they were disturbing.

  He opened his eyes, hoping Damos hadn’t caught his moment of weakness. It was a foolish hope. His anrik sat across from him, a shadow of worry in his amber eyes that vanished once he saw Tra’var was awake.

  “Enjoy your nap?”

  “I was just resting my eyes,” Tra’var retorted.

  “Of course. I forgot that when you close your eyes it shuts off your hearing too. That explains why you haven’t answered any of my questions in the last five minutes.”

  “Anya said I’m supposed to rest.”

  “So now you’re taking her advice? You weren’t too keen on it when she was dousing you in ice water.”

  “Keywords being ice and water. And instead of coming to my aid you announced it was a good idea. Medically sound. I’m going to remember that.”

  The vehicle turned and Tra’var stopped talking as a wave of dizziness hit.

  “We’re nearly there,” Damos said. “Want me to open a window?”

  “Fraxx no. I’m cold enough as it is. If this is what humans endure every time they get sick, I am more than grateful I was born with nanotech. This is miserable.”

  Once they arrived, Tra’var got out on his own, but he knew within a few steps he didn’t have the energy to make it inside without assistance.

  Damos didn’t say a word, just offered him a supporting arm and helped him inside. The place was almost unrecognizable. The sand was gone, and the maintenance bots were now scuttling back and forth with makeshift trays affixed to their upper surfaces so they could carry supplies and other items.

  Inside the area proper were scores of beings, some seated on the ground and others lying in simple prefabricated cots. The arena was the largest communal space, so it made sense to make it the emergency shelter. It was standard practice in the empire, but he’d never seen one active before.

  “Now, I’m worried,” Damos said softly.

  “Me too.” But he still had
faith—not only in their ancestors but in this community and the beings who lived here. They’d find a way through this.

  A silver-skinned Vardarian female approached and greeted them with a weary smile. “I’m Healer Vixi A’Nir. Please come with me. We’re waiting for more cots to be produced but we can get you settled on chairs. Can you describe how you’re feeling? Hot? Cold? Tired?”

  He leaned into Damos and let his anrik do the talking.

  “I’m Damos and this is Tra’var. Our mate is human. She says he has a fever, dizziness, headache, body aches, and fatigue. Currently he is experiencing what she called fever chills.”

  Vixi nodded. “Thank you. That tells me exactly what I need to know. You said he has these symptoms. What about you?”

  “I am normal. Nothing has changed for me.”

  Tra’var might be sick, but he was still alert enough to see the healer’s surprised reaction.

  “Nothing? Not even fatigue? We’ve determined that all of our people are experiencing some level of nanotech failure.”

  He felt Damos tense before speaking again. “I’m not pure Vardarian. My mother was an unmated female with both Vardarian and Ferrym blood. I was never given the usual genetic treatments.”

  The healer nodded, a glint of what might have been hope in her eyes. “Ferrym? Of course! Similar but with enough variances…” She trailed off and then smiled. “I need you to come with me.”

  “I can’t. I have to see to my anrik. Our mahaya isn’t permitted to help and there’s no one else.”

  Vixi nodded, and for a moment her professional mask dropped and Tra’var saw the female was exhausted. “You’re sick too?” he asked.

  “We all are, or we will be soon.” She looked intently at Damos. “Everyone but you. I need to find out why that is before we’re all too sick to do anything about it.”

  “What can I do?” Damos asked.

  Tra’var used up the rest of his energy to clap his friend on the back. “I think she’s saying you might be the answer to this whole mess.”

  Damos looked utterly stunned. “I am?”

  The healer nodded. “Your genetics, yes. You’re immune. We’re not. And your nanotech appears to be working perfectly. Thank the ancestors, you might be the key to unlocking this puzzle.”

  A droid moved past them, hauling a small trailer stacked with cots ready for setup. The healer snatched one as they went by and handed it to Damos. “See to your anrik. I’ll be back to fetch you in a few minutes.”

  “Right.”

  If he had the energy, Tra’var would have laughed at the expression on Damos’ face. “Ha! The ancestors have done it to us again. Now get that set up for me and go save the colony. And I never want to hear you say another word about your inferior anything. Unless we’re talking about your cooking. I still say I’m better at it than you are.”

  Damos shot him a lopsided grin. “You need to lie down. You’re clearly delusional.”

  Within minutes he was stretched out on the cot, wrapped in his own blankets, and wishing he could do more to help.

  “Don’t forget to update Anya. You’re in enough trouble with her already.”

  “I won’t. Now shut up and rest or I’ll go find some ice and a bucket.”

  Tra’var didn’t bother to answer that. He just made a rude gesture and closed his eyes. He trusted the ancestors, his anrik, and his mahaya to sort things out on their own.

  Damos had never been so thoroughly examined in his life. He’d been scanned, scraped, and poked with needles while being asked a dizzying number of questions by a variety of healers and others who didn’t introduce themselves. They were all clearly unwell and he saw several of them drinking ja’kreesh. Normally the beverage wouldn’t do much since the nanotech they carried gave them better endurance than any substance could. It also removed anything harmful, which mitigated most of the effect anyway. Only now, with their tech failing they had turned to the same techniques the humans used to stay alert long after they’d reached their physical limits.

  It explained why Anya’s system had responded to even Tra’var’s weakened nanobots. What would she be like once things returned to normal? He grinned a little. They might need an update just to keep up.

  Everyone was doing their best, but he’d seen Anya in action. If she were here, she’d have things organized and streamlined while still managing to make everyone feel welcome.

  He missed her already. She was right. She should be here. Tra’var needed her. He needed her.

  He sent her a brief text message, trying not to overthink his words. Then he sent it quickly before he could change his mind.

  Tra’var is settled. I’m doing what I can to help. I’m sorry for what I did last night and I wish you were here with us. One day I hope you can forgive me.

  D.

  He checked on Tra’var first. The male was dozing comfortably, which was good. He’d heard any number of patients be told the best thing they could do was lie still and rest. He felt for the ones still well enough to take care of the others. They couldn’t rest, not when so many were in need of tending. Couples and families stayed together with parents caring for their children and trying to hide their worry from the little ones. He couldn’t imagine what they must be feeling right now. Unlike his mother, these parents loved their children and would do anything to protect them, but they couldn’t really do anything to defend against a virus they should all be immune to by default. If he were a father… qarf. He’d be going out of his mind at a moment like this.

  The thought of fathering a child didn’t give him the same sense of unease it always had before. In fact he could almost imagine what that could be like. A child with Anya’s hair and amber eyes just like… his. A sudden ache filled him. A need he’d never known before. It had to be another side effect of the sharhal. If the child had his eyes, they’d carry his genetics, too. They’d be flawed, just like him.

  That thought didn’t feel right to him. Not anymore. Now wasn’t the time to think about it, though. He had work to do and neighbors to help. Anya had been right about that, too. This was a community, and right now it was struggling. Keeping the humans and cyborgs away was foolish.

  Like many of these buildings, the layout of the arena was standardized. It took him no time at all to track down the emergency supply rooms. Some were full of specialized equipment that wouldn’t be needed, but they also held plenty of bedding and other items to be distributed. He found the servo-droid command center and took over from the sick and weary male trying to organize things.

  He programmed new instructions and brought the rest of the fleet into active service. Normally the bots and droids ran in shifts with half of them recharging at any time. Today they needed all of them. If Vixi was right, this arena would soon be full of sick, worried beings. He didn’t want to think about what it might look like if they couldn’t figure out what this illness was or how to stop it.

  He also didn’t want to worry too much about why Anya hadn’t responded to his message yet. She was obviously still upset, but he wanted to know how she was doing.

  Instead, he pushed his worries aside and tried to focus on the here and now. If they made it through this, he’d fix the mess he’d made and then claim her the way he should have the first time. He’d thought they would have time, but this fraxxing illness and the demands of the sharhal weren’t going to give it to them. For now, he had work to do. He left the control room and moved on to the next task… feeding everyone.

  He wasn’t the first to think of it. A makeshift kitchen had been erected in the designated area, and food dispensers were producing orders of simple broth and other light meals already.

  “I can load a cart and start handing these out,” he offered to the group and was met with grateful smiles and nods.

  A female stepped forward with a welcoming smile. “You’re well enough? Oh that would be wonderful. Every round we make someone gets too tired to continue. I’m Irisa, and I think I’m in charge.”


  “She is,” a familiar voice said. It was N’tev. “But only because she’s as bossy as her cousin. Damos, it’s good to see at least one of us is still hale and hearty. How’s your family?”

  “Tra’var is ill, and Anya is furious she isn’t allowed to tend him herself. How’s Saral?”

  “Stubborn enough to try and insist she can still help,” Irisa muttered. “I sent my dear cousin back to bed and told Antas to lie on top of her if she tried to get up again.”

  “Normally that wouldn’t be a good idea. Hopefully he’s weak enough he won’t—”

  “If you finish that sentence I’m going to crawl up to the roof and throw myself off,” B’ron said from somewhere behind Damos. “I don’t need to know. I don’t want to know.”

  “Then you and your anrik best move out soon because once we’re better, we’ll want to celebrate our recovery. Loudly and repeatedly.”

  B’ron threw his hands in the air. “I just came to see if there’s some soup. Kotar is awake and hungry. I want to get something into him before he goes to sleep again. Please don’t make me hear anything more about your sex life.”

  Irisa laughed. “We can talk about mine if you like?”

  B’ron just looked at Damos. “Help me.”

  Damos chuckled and braved the kitchen to grab one of the bowls of broth Irisa had just prepared. “Take this and go. Quickly.”

  He took the soup. “Thanks. You’re my new hero.”

  Damos waited until the young male was on his way back to his anrik before he added, “Just remember you wouldn’t exist if your mother hadn’t enjoyed getting naked with your fathers.”

  The male gave a horrified squawk and walked faster, his head down and wings partially expanded as if that might somehow protect him from anything else they might say.

  Everyone else laughed and Damos laughed with them. It felt good, and for the first time since he’d arrived, he felt a moment of real connection to the beings he lived with. They were in this together. More than that, they wanted him to be part of things.