Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

Deep Medical Laboratory One.

It was tucked away in the lower levels of the Fleet Station—an area the majority of the crew seldom had reason to visit.

Its most frequent visitor was Zharek, and after him, Zyara. It was here that Zharek carried out his research and experiments. Here that he’d figured out how to ramp up the production of precious medical nanites, which were notoriously difficult to manufacture.

Mavrel had been down here a few times, assisting with developing various medical devices.

That’s why the Qualum doors granted him immediate access.

He entered the labs, passing through the antechamber into the central room, where all was silent save for the faint hum of the machines.

A curved workstation dominated the space. Holos glowed above it, displaying complex arrays of data. On a large bench along the far wall were several devices in various stages of production.

There was no trace of any human.

Mavrel passed through another set of doors, entering a room where Zharek developed medications and serums. This room was as precisely arranged as the last, with machines used for measuring, mixing, and calibrating occupying most of the area.

Zharek’s actions and workflow might be perceived as chaotic by some, but most of what he did was highly precise and intentional.

The Sylth detecting a human’s presence down here was no accident at all.

What have you done, Zharek?

Disquiet roiled through him.

Is this why Zharek was so insistent on playing god with others? Because he’d lost control of his own fate?

Mavrel walked through yet another set of doors, down a corridor, and past storage rooms and back offices—which he didn’t bother checking as they weren’t large enough or sufficiently equipped to handle a stasis tank.

He knew the layout because he’d studied the plans.

Just a little further, and he would reach a large chamber—hidden away, serving no apparent purpose, one that neither he nor anybody else would ordinarily have any interest in.

He stopped at the Qualum doors.

Predictably, they didn’t open.

He didn’t expect to crack the entry code easily, either. Perhaps he could have done it if he had a few rotations spare, but he would have to go down to Earth to meet his waiting mate soon, and there was nothing in the Universe that could stop him from arriving at her doorstep exactly when she wanted him.

So, he simply leaned against the wall and waited.

Time passed.

He closed his eyes and savored the solitude.

Then, he did something he rarely ever did.

He dared to think about his future.

He hoped.

That Beatrice would always see beyond his harsh and cruel past.

That he wouldn’t have to do those terrible things ever again.

That he could give her the life she truly deserved.

Mavrel thought about where he’d come from.

His family of origin—the ones who had birthed him, fed him, given him clothes and a roof over his head until he was old enough to join the Imperial Military. His mother was distant, having little to do with him. His father was barely there. His brothers were disdainful of him.

They were all gone now.

He was the sole survivor of that line.

Did he feel even a single shred of sadness, remorse, or regret? Or did he feel victorious, a certain sense of revenge for their ill-treatment of him, their indifference?

No.

None of that.

He felt… nothing.

What did he know about nurturing anybody? How could he possibly give Beatrice the warmth and the care and comfort she craved—especially considering she was human, and humans did those things so very well?

But when he’d met her, he’d had no trouble showing desire and affection toward her. The feelings had come naturally, and on many occasions, he’d found himself acting before a thought even entered his mind.

She made him like that.

And perhaps… he’d learned a little… from Tarak, from his comrades, from the Kordolians of the Tribes, from observing the different species throughout the Nine Galaxies that they had oppressed.

And then, there were humans.

Humans, most of all, had pulled them down from the stars and taught them how to be real.

Not machines.

Not gods.

Just… imperfect.

“There you are.” A familiar voice made Mavrel look up. He peeled himself off the wall and stood stiffly as Zharek approached. “If anyone was going to discover this place, I knew it would be you.”

“Coincidence,” Mavrel said gruffly.

“Or not. You’re the one with the inquiring mind. A little disobedient and angry enough to want to fuck me over a little, but not too much.”

“You know me well enough, but then again, you know everything, don’t you?”

“I do not. ” Zharek closed his eyes and tipped his head back, a long sigh escaping through his half-closed teeth.

He looked… tired.

Mavrel had never seen Zharek look tired before.

His long hair was tousled. His normally sharp gaze was dulled.

There were dark circles underneath his eyes.

“You look like shit,” Mavrel said bluntly. “Are you… coping?”

“No.”

His irritation toward Zharek almost evaporated. “Is there something I can do to assist?”

Zharek’s shoulders slumped, making him appear smaller. “Not really. But since you’re here anyway, I’ll allow you to see—as long as you keep this between us only.”

“You know I’m not in the habit of revealing confidential data.”

“Yes. I know. You’re sufficiently reclusive, tight-lipped, and honorable enough not to break your word.” Zharek walked towards the Qualum doors, which opened immediately. “Come on, then.”

Surprised by Zharek’s easy capitulation, Mavrel quietly followed him into the dark chamber.

The doors closed behind them, enveloping them in silence.

His attention was immediately drawn to the stasis chamber in the middle of the room.

A human floated there: limbs suspended in nutrient-rich fluid, long hair drifting upwards, eyes closed.

Spectral, devoid of life, skin depleted of the rich colors usually found in humans.

He glanced at the monitors.

There was no pulse.

No brain activity.

From outward appearances, it was difficult to determine whether there were any traces of life in her at all.

Zharek turned to face him, his expression bleak. “This human is my perfect reproductive match. She was found upon the human passenger transport Malachi en route to the jungle planet Eiolan —known to the humans as Miridian-8. I have done everything I can to preserve her cellular integrity, but even I can’t bring her back to life.”

Mavrel’s chest tightened. Zharek had been dealing with this torture for this long? Ever since they discovered that damaged human ship?

“What about the Tharians?”

“You think I hadn’t considered that? I tried to find a second-stage Tharian symbiote that would accept her as a host, but the Tharians tell me her body is too damaged to resurrect.” Zharek’s tone became as cold as the windswept ice-plains of the Vaal.

Mavrel sensed his despair, which threatened to envelop him, too. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you. You always have a plan.”

Zharek looked away, saying nothing.

That told Mavrel everything about what Zharek was thinking.

“You can’t… reverse death. Even you can’t. That would be an affront to Kaiin himself.”

“The God of Death is just a construct, created to allow us to conceptualize death. We have been rather generous to him in recent times. Too generous. I don’t feel like giving him much more.”

“But…” Mavrel shook his head. “It’s impossible. Consciousness has already left the body.”

The look in Zharek’s eyes only served to deepen Mavrel’s unease.

“What is consciousness?” Zharek asked softly. “What are memories? A series of electrical signals, chemicals dancing between synapses? Differentiated cells with different parts of the genome expressed? It’s less like biology and more like magic from the gods, isn’t it?”

“Consciousness…” Mavrel thought about the Sylth, about the way he conversed with her sometimes, forgetting she was artificial.

The Sylth never stayed the same.

New information was always being acquired.

Thanks to millions of continual inputs from all of their ships across the Nine Galaxies, she was constantly changing and evolving.

“But consciousness is just one part of the equation. There’s also the reaction caused by the interaction. ”

Mavrel drew in a sharp breath. “Has this human… triggered your…”

“Mating Fever? No. Her cells are in a state of mitotic arrest, and she is contained within the stasis tank. There is no active release of pheromones. I only discovered she was my match when I studied her genome.”

A relief, Mavrel thought silently, for he couldn’t even begin to fathom the horror of having one’s Mating Fever triggered… only to descend into agony and insanity because of unrequited biological needs.

“Do you know why I tricked you, Mavrel? Why I forced the issue between you and your human?”

“I thought it was simply because you enjoy playing god.”

Zharek let out a disdainful snort. “It’s because you were being a stubborn idiot. Anything could have happened to her in the meantime. Anything. She could have been harmed or incapacitated. Another male could have taken her.”

Another male? Mavrel growled, momentarily seeing a haze of crimson. Never.

“One must seize such opportunities. You never know when you might get such a chance again. It might never repeat.” Zharek stared wistfully at the suspended human. “My path is going to be far more difficult than yours, but I’m going to find a way.”

If there was anyone who could pull off such an impossible feat, it was Zharek.

Mavrel didn’t dare ask how he planned on going about it.

And besides, who was he to judge or condemn? He’d already found his mate. He couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult this was for the medic.

Suddenly, Zharek’s actions took on an entirely new dimension, and the last shreds of Mavrel’s anger slipped away.

He felt something he’d rarely felt before— pity.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. If there’s such a thing as gods, they’re testing me right now. Good thing I’m probably the only person in the Universe who can potentially do something about it. It’s my burden to bear, so don’t give me your pity.”

“Does Tarak know about this?”

“He knows of the human but not about my… predicament. You owe me a favor, so I’m calling it in. I expect your complete silence on this matter. Do you understand?”

“If it were anyone else, I’d be up in his office already, but since it’s you… ”

“Good. So we understand one another then. Let me have this. I just need time to figure things out.”

Mavrel thought for a moment. “Very well. But I’ll be keeping an eye on you. If I feel you’re going too far, I’ll have no choice but to alert the boss.”

“And maybe that’s a good thing,” Zharek said quietly. “I need someone to keep me in check.”

“You never cease to surprise me, medic.”

“I think the humans are starting to influence me,” Zharek shrugged.

“And your sister? Shouldn’t she know about this?”

“Leave her out of this for now. Zyara and I have a different sense of ethics. She would overthink everything.”

“Fine. But answer me one thing.”

“What is it?”

“What if… you are successful, and she resents you for it?”

A faint, bitter smile crossed Zharek’s lips. “Then I’d just have to convince her otherwise, wouldn’t I?”