by Celia Kyle
Vende’s face fell as soon as he was alone. The effort it had taken to sit up and talk had sapped what remained of his strength, and the pain felt like it ripped through every cell. He could see the scales flaking off his flesh, leaving iridescent blue glitter all over the pale sheets.
With great difficulty, Vende shifted himself on the bed. His movements were slow and careful as he eased onto his front. His back felt like it was being ripped to shreds by razors, and he could practically feel the bacteria burrowing into his scales and eating him alive.
He tried to stay still and simply breathe. Again, he focused on the pain and tried as hard as he could to see it as a friend and not as his enemy.
Scale Pox was not like a wound, though. The aggressive nature of the affliction created panic in even the strongest Preor as they felt their dragon slowly die, piece by piece.
Vende knew the ship would be in complete chaos. He didn’t even know if there would be enough Preor to fill all the essential roles. It added to his pain that he was not able to help Rendan and the others.
As he drifted between sleep and waking, he heard announcements being made by senior officers and Penelope. The ship was in complete lockdown. Deliveries of drugs, dressings, and sterilizing agents were coming through the dock in a new quarantine protocol. Other than that, no travel was allowed.
The word had gotten out that Scale Pox was active on the ship, and down on the platform and tower there was some commotion. Only something as deadly and aggressive as this could cause Preor to panic. Anyone not on the ship was making a good case for keeping the ship separate from the ground team—perhaps, indefinitely.
Vende thought about all the Preor on the ship. The little twins and all his friends. This disease could work so fast that every Preor on board could become infected, and within weeks they would all die.
Vende may have had a grouchy, defensive outlook for most of his life, but he had always been optimistic. Planning for the worst—and warning others—did not mean he did not hope for the best.
But under the force of the pain, fever, and weakness Vende found his thoughts turning sharply and falling into a spiral of dread. They were all going to die. The Preor ship would end up hanging over the tower like a massive tomb. Only the women and Penelope would be left, and the women would never leave because the other Preor would be too afraid of them to allow them to return to Earth.
He struggled against this future, his muscles tensing as he tried to rise. Pain shrieked through him, a sharp, lancing strike through his head and shoulders. Vende moaned softly, trying to cover it so no medical officers would come and investigate.
He created an image of Dawn in his mind. He lovingly looked into her sweet smile and soft blue eyes. In his dreams, he could still touch her. He had thought there was no mate for him anywhere, but here she was, like something magical.
“You are magical, Dawn,” he whispered. His literal, calculating mind had always been far too narrow. Ideas that pushed against scientific fact were always dismissed by Vende as fairytales.
But right now, Vende desperately wanted to believe in fairytales.
“You are magic,” he whispered. “You can save us.”
It was his last thought before he passed out.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The women hurried back to the lab and worked in silence. Grace’s mouth was pulled in a tight line and her hands shook, but she got straight to work at the lab tables.
Dawn quickly arranged the seedlings she had grown using her innate abilities so far, handing over the chemical map to Grace.
“These seedlings grow the painkiller. These ones here grow the immune boost serum.” Dawn separated the plants and put them in two rows.
“Is this all we have?” Grace looked over the collection of pots with sad eyes.
“You can make enough painkiller and immune serum to treat at least twenty Preor,” Dawn snapped, on edge like everyone else. “Make yourself useful.”
Grace wiped at her eyes and trimmed the plants down as Dawn checked in the hot house. She had more seedlings planted, but they had barely germinated. They wouldn’t be ready to process for weeks.
She headed out into the rainforest with a trolley, her mind buzzing so fast it felt as if it were on fire. The shapes twirled in her mind, right behind her eyes. She just had to look at a plant to know its use. She filled the trolley with anything she thought they could make use of.
One of the plants could have its roots dried and crumbled to make a pain-killing salve. It could be rubbed into the wounds where the scales fell out and relieve the pain and swelling, but only for a short time. Another’s leaves could be boiled to make a bitter tea that would relieve pain and relax tense muscles. A fern dipped down and brushed her forehead and Dawn reached for it, knowing by just that light touch its blooms could create a powerful narcotic.
She headed back to the worktables and set up the plants on a spare space while Grace and Carla continued work on the seedlings. They were moving fast, but Dawn knew it wasn’t fast enough.
We need a vaccine.
“Carla, can you help me here? Are you okay alone for a minute, Grace?”
“I’m all right,” she said, her voice rough. Dawn brought Carla over and explained her plan. She got onto a computer, created a molecule map and handed it out to both Grace and Carla.
“The seedlings you are working on produce the immune serum and the strong painkiller. The compounds made from these new plants won’t be as strong, but they will be useful.”
“How useful?” Carla asked.
Dawn looked away. “They may help to keep the infected comfortable,” Dawn whispered.
Carla seemed to understand all too well and went to work on the plants.
Dawn experienced a frantic urgency within. She had to do something. Everything she had thought of here was just too slow.
Vende will die.
Unacceptable! She had to do something, and she had to do it now.
She set up a new workbench with a computer and basic equipment. With some hesitation she isolated Scale Pox under the microscope and examined it at its base level.
It was dark, malignant, and ugly. She had never seen anything like it in her life. It was so aggressive that it doubled itself while she watched and then doubled again. It had been taken as a scraping from an infected Preor, and the bacteria clearly had a bit of scale to eat so they kept reproducing.
Dawn watched it doubling itself until it was stable. It still seethed, a horrible, quiet waiting. She could almost sense its will to live and how completely it infected its host.
Dawn examined it further and her mind—her brand new, crisp, clear mind—began to break it down. All the chemical signatures she had seen over the past few days galloped through her head, and as she looked at everything at once, a chain of molecules came springing out of the information and stuck in her eyes.
Dawn’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she ran a simulation. In theory, it worked. She had created an exact antigen to the Scale Pox. This new chemical would destroy it completely and leave a marker that prevented reinfection.
A vaccine!
She had the chemical string, but she didn’t know which plants carried the molecules. She ran into the forest, grabbing random plants that seemed highlighted to her sensitive eyes. Her fingers felt hot and tingly and she could barely feel her own limbs as she became a creature of will and instinct and nothing more.
When she got back to the worktable, she spliced the plants. Even though she was in a hurry, she treated the plants with great care. She combined them neatly from midway up the stalk, feeling the organic matter fit together. She joined at least fifty of them before she shuddered and collapsed.
For a few seconds, only her exhausted panting could be heard. Dawn stood slowly, clinging to the table to pull herself upright. She wondered why Grace or Carla hadn’t asked if she was okay, but when she looked over at their table, she saw both of them were completely passed out.
Daw
n pulled herself on to a chair, looking at her hybrids. They would grow into fairly tall trees, and once they bonded, the oil they produced would kill Scale Pox. It was so saturated in the chemical they could extract it in multiple ways—boiling, pulping, or pressing. No matter which way it was processed, the potent chemical survived to become an effective treatment.
Trials! Thought Dawn frantically. She didn’t know if it had side effects. She didn’t know if this compound might be damaging to the Preor. She didn’t want to poison them. Her extra senses told her it would do them no damage, but without hard data, she didn’t know if this was true.
Trust yourself.
She looked over her hybrids anxiously. They were as happy as they could be for plants that had their stems destroyed and lashed together with a different plant. They would live. She could sense that truth. Within weeks they would be one.
I don’t have weeks!
There was no way to create the compound by processing the plants and mixing parts together. The chemical signature of both plants had to change.
She looked around the room and had an idea. The conditions that had been killing the garden when she first arrived had been the result of too much of a good thing. It was true that if carbon dioxide and humidity were increased for a short time it would give plants a considerable boost. If it happened to rain at the same time, the nitrogen release would be extreme.
“Father always said they grew for me,” She whispered. The edges of her vision were growing dark and she knew she was going to pass out again like the others. She didn’t even know how long she had been working in the garden.
“Penelope. I want you to turn oxygen down by twenty and carbon dioxide up by fifty.”
“Dawn. What are you doing?”
“Do it, Penelope.” Dawn hurried to the other table and grabbed Grace under the arms. She dragged her to the hallway and left her sleeping by the door. Then she went back for Carla.
“I can’t let you hurt yourself, Dawn.”
“I’m not going to get hurt,” She replied, her voice tight. She moved her hybrids into two double lines and laid down between them.
“Penelope, execute my order.”
“Dawn, no. I know enough about basic human physiology to know you could die in those conditions.”
Dawn lay flat on her back, her hands over her breasts. As she slowly closed her eyes, she heard the hum of the plants around her. They were expectant, excited, as if they knew what she meant to do.
“I’m fine, Penelope.” She stretched out her arms, relaxing on the floor. A soft leaf touched her hand and she saw an aggressive vine reaching out to her, blooming across the floor.
“I can’t get hurt here,” she whispered. “I’m with my friends.” She closed her eyes, focusing on her hybrids. They could bond. They could grow. She believed in them. She sent her love out into the garden in waves. “Penelope. Lock the room. Execute my order.”
Penelope said nothing, a testament to her feelings on the matter. Loud clangs sounded around the room as the massive doors were slammed shut and locked.
Dawn let herself fall into her exhaustion, the darkness creeping up on her like flowing water. The air grew thick and hard to draw into her lungs, yet Dawn didn’t feel any fear, only love.
“Grow, my babies,” she whispered. “Grow.”
Chapter Thirty
In a heavy, dark net, Vende writhed. At first, he thought it was something man-made, but as he struggled with the full might of his dragon, he knew it couldn’t be any fiber known to man or Preor. Nothing could hold against his dragon when it was enraged.
As he flapped and struggled, the slick thickness of it poured over him and his heart almost stopped in horror.
He was in the ocean. His wings were waterlogged. He was done for. Dead.
Pain surged through him, stabbing his joints and making his muscles tremble. There was no point fighting. He could not survive the sea.
Just as his head was about to slip under, Vende heard Dawn’s voice.
“Vende,” she whispered. He looked around wildly, half-expecting to see her walking along the waves like a vision. He floundered again, desperate to break free of the waters and go to her.
“Goodbye, Vende.” Her voice sounded so sad, as if it were torn between two worlds. Vende screamed. His dragon roared.
She’s in danger. She’s in danger right now!
He threw all his strength into a massive onslaught against the ocean. He roared and clawed with all his might. When he felt a terrible sense of gravity and a sharp slap, he thought he must have fallen to the ocean floor and died. Someone touched his arm and he threw a punch in that direction. He was surrounded by enemies who were keeping him from Dawn!
“Vende, Vende, you need to calm down. It was just a fever dream—”
“Get off me!” he roared, trying to fly to his feet. He managed to get to his knees and sway. When he reached out for purchase and grabbed the edge of the bed, he realized he had thrown himself to the floor. “Where is Dawn?”
“Give him a shot. Now,” Yazen ordered.
“No! Don’t shoot me up with anything!” He tried to get up again. “Dawn is in danger! I have to go to her.”
Whelon moved in front of Vende and grabbed him by the shoulders. With all of his strength he hauled Vende to his feet and hurled him backward. Vende hit the edge of the cot and fell onto it in a thoroughly graceless maneuver.
“You are not leaving this med bay!” Whelon roared. His eyes glittered and Vende could scent the healing master’s smoke. Even through his pain and delirium, Vende realized Whelon had probably been infected himself but still worked. The urgency in his cry made Vende think he might not have been the first errant dragon Whelon had to put on their ass that day.
“Dawn,” he croaked. “Penelope!” he yelled, forcing sound through his sore throat.
No one answered him. Vende leapt from the bed and ran for the door. Both Yazen and Whelon grabbed him but barely slowed him down. Several others who still had some strength piled on top of him, and still, Vende clawed his way toward the door.
“Get the shot, Yazen. I’ve got a vein right here.”
“I’ve got it. Hold on.”
Vende screamed with every cell. He fought them with every last scrap of strength. His effort was so extreme that his dragon attempted to emerge, even in its sick, weakened shape. The roar that came from Vende’s mouth this time made the room shudder. When he smashed one clenched fist onto the floor, trying to crawl forward, the ground shook and metal tile cracked under his hand.
“Now, Whelon. Here, I have it.”
“No!” Vende roared again, knowing if they put him out, he would be too late.
Then the main doors swung open. Vende and all the Preor on top of him looked up sharply, wondering what was so urgent that it forced a break of quarantine procedure.
Vende didn’t need to see. He could feel her. That horrible, dark sickness he could feel clinging to her was now right in front of him, and it had his mate in its trap.
“Dawn!” he screamed, ready to fight even harder. At that moment, Whelon got the needle into his neck. The room went hazy around Vende as he held out one hand toward her bed.
As they dragged him away, he could see others working on her. He did not know what they were doing to her! He struggled against the drugs in his system, desperate to get to his mate.
“Hold him, Yazen! Get the restraints!” Whelon ordered, his voice sharp and urgent.
“Didn’t you just give him a sedative?”
“Does it look like it’s working, Yazen?”
More hands held Vende down and when he spied Carla and Grace come into the room he relaxed, just a little. He could trust them to care for Dawn. They were human women and had medical skills. He didn’t like how still and pale his mate was on her bed, but he much preferred Grace and Carla to Whelon’s Preor medical assistants.
For a few seconds, the sedative dragged him under. It was like being caught in the ocean again. K
nowing this time, it was just a hallucination, he rode it out until his eyelids flickered.
Suddenly, the pain lifted in a single wave. He was still sore and stiff, but the fever was gone and so was the horrid gnawing of the bacteria in his scales. He sat upright, shaking his head. Grace stood in front of him, disposing of a needle.
“What happened?” He rubbed his forehead, temples aching with the last remnants of illness.
“Dawn found the cure.”
“She did? But what’s wrong with her?” Vende tried to get up and almost face-planted on the floor. Grace propped him up with one hand on his shoulder.
“Take it easy, big guy. Give it a few minutes.”
“Tell me what happened!” he demanded, worry for his mate overriding all else.
Grace shook her head and wiped her red eyes. “I don’t know, Vende. Carla and I fell asleep at our desks. Dawn got us out of the room an initiated a fast growth cycle. That’s what Penelope tells me, anyway.”
“You locked her in there?” Vende shouted at the ceiling.
“She ordered me, Vende.”
“Yes, and who overruled the order?”
“Well…” You could picture Penelope looking nervously around the room like a naughty child. “When Grace and Carla woke up, I was able to override because I knew that’s what they wanted me to do—”
Vende stood, throwing Grace off. “I have to get to her.”
Instead of letting Vende hurl her away, Grace slipped under his arm and supported him.
“Stubborn dragon,” she hissed.
“What happened to her, Grace?” he pleaded.
“She locked herself in. She created a tropical storm with the controls. Then she… I don’t know what she did.”
“Freakiest shit I’ve ever seen,” Penelope remarked.
Vende put one foot in front of the other, every step a new sensation of pain. His weak body didn’t want to run across the room, no matter how urgent the reason.
“The plants, Vende,” Grace whispered. “Every single plant in the garden tripled in size. The whole place is just a mess of green. Moss and stuff grew over everything, even the computers. All the tech in the room was ruined.”
