Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

ARI

Once on the ship, he carried the struggling Nakkoni female into the medical suite. Her thick tail lashed at him, the spikes digging into his arms.

“Don’t hurt her,” Carla said, following, still shouting despite the lack of a waterfall or launching ship engines.

“She is actively trying to bite me,” he replied, his own voice louder than necessary.

“She’s ill. She doesn’t know any better.”

“Unlikely.” He placed her on the medical platform, holding her down as she fought against him until the machine automatically secured her.

Transparent material rose from the side, lights flashing as the machine scanned the patient. It only took a moment for the computer to diagnose the massive fungal infection and conclude that it could do nothing. An unpleasant noise sounded as various treatment options scrolled quickly on the screen above the platform.

“What’s that noise mean?” Carla asked, gripping his arm.

“The prognosis is not good. The machine can stabilize Poppy but not cure her.”

“Let’s do that. Stabilize.”

“If we do, she will be in a suspended state. She may not wake,” he cautioned. “If she does, the damage may be irreversible.”

Carla took a moment to respond. “And if we don’t?”

“She will continue to deteriorate.”

“I want a second opinion, from a real doctor, not a machine.” Carla’s face grew flushed, and her hands clenched, ready to fight.

“This unit is older, but it was very sophisticated for its time. I doubt you will find a more advanced medical unit,” he said.

“Tavat said it was slow moving. We have time.” Immediately after she spoke, she held her fingertips to her lips, as if embarrassed by the naivete in her words.

“Your friend will have to be restrained or confined to a cell. That is no existence,” Ari said.

“And putting her in a freezer is?” Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath. “You’re right. Do it—the suspended state thing. I hate seeing her like this.”

“It is not easy to see the suffering of one you love.”

Her eyes went glossy, tender emotions showing. Jealousy flitted through his hardened heart that she showed such vulnerability for her friend. He wondered how it felt to be so beloved, like he was a treasure worth fighting for.

Marvelous to be so loved. He selfishly wished it for himself.

Tamping down his emotions, he busied himself with selecting the treatment option the medical platform recommended. The unit completely encased Poppy, who continued to struggle against the restraints. The chamber filled with a cloudy gas and her form stilled.

“That’s it?” Carla asked, laying a hand on the surface of the unit.

“That is all we can do for now.” His hand cupped the side of Carla’s face. She leaned into his caress, her eyes closing as she sighed. “If I could cure your friend, I would.”

He had a fortune at his disposal, and no amount of credits could procure the medicine her friend required.

She did not resist as he pulled her into an embrace. He moved stiffly, his wings and back hurting from the blaster shot.

He knew what he had to do.

“You’re hurt.” Carla pulled away, her voice scolding. “Let me see.”

The shot tore right through his wing. It burned still on his side, near his back. The wound should have healed by now. He had shifted to his stone form. He should not have been injured at all.

“Let me see. Stop fidgeting,” Carla opened a med pack. She gestured for him to turn around, twirling her fingers while looking very annoyed.

He held himself still as she poked his back with sharpened sticks, judging from the lack of a delicate touch.

“Umm, what color do you bleed?” she asked.

“Same as you,” he replied.

“My blood is not green.”

“Neither is mine.”

“Explain this.” She thrust a square of filthy cloth at him, the white material no longer sterile and stained a deep green.

“Give me the kit.” He raised his arm and wing, twisting to inspect the wound on his side. “That is not the correct color.”

“It’s oozing.” She pressed a new cloth to the wound. He did not flinch or hiss in surprise, though she rolled her eyes, as if mocking him for a reflex he absolutely did not make.

“A serpent bit me. The venom is hindering my ability to heal.”

He twisted again. The wound had grown, the blast burning away at his compromised flesh. Carla cleaned the wound, but it continued to ooze. She applied a thick gel, creating a barrier. That was a temporary measure. Ari felt the wound continue to grow, a slow burn boring its way into him.

“Your ministrations are futile. The wound grows deeper and will hit a vital organ. I must shift to my stone form and enter a deep sleep to heal,” he said.

“Sounds good.” She replaced the gauze with another, taping this one in place. “How long will that take?”

“It is difficult to say. Weeks. Perhaps a month or more.”

“A month? But I need you.”

He placed his hand over hers. “You are the most capable person I know. You have my credits at your disposal and my ship. You do not need me. I need you.”

“Ari,” she said, her voice growing serious, “I need you. Not your money. Not your ship. You.”

He wished that were true. This had never been a partnership between equals. From the moment he purchased her on the street, she had been his superior in every meaningful way.

“Take your friend to the Khargal Patrol. They will have a more advanced medical unit or access to one.”

“And why would they help us?”

“Because you have something they want.”

“A tiara? Maybe another death mask?”

“Me.”

Carla went still, the color draining from her face. When she finally spoke, she said, “No.”

“Carla—”

“No.” She pointed an accusatory finger at her. “You said they’d keep you frozen as a statue for a century or more. No.”

“It is the only way.”

“It absolutely fucking is not,” she said, jabbing him in the chest with that finger. “We’ll get a second opinion. Find a fancier medical thingy. We’ve tried nothing and you want to hand yourself in. We did not just get one over on a bona fide supervillain for you to immediately throw your hands in the air and go, oh well, can’t be bothered to find a fungal specialist, better turn myself in.”

He wrapped his hand around her finger. “You are a fighter. You will be fine.”

“Damn right, I’m a survivor. Stick with the humans. We’re adaptable as fuck.”

Pleased that her spark was back, he pulled her in for a kiss. He poured all the unspoken longing and devotion into that kiss, the lifetime that he would have spent with her. His hondassa, the mate of his heart.

“You will do what is best for yourself,” he said as he pulled away.

She frowned now. “For us.”

“I will stand guard over your Poppy until you no longer need me.”

“I’m always going to need you.”

He wished that were true. She was the most capable person he knew.

With a rueful smile, he positioned himself to the side of the medical platform, far enough away to allow access. The shift was slower than normal. He felt his flesh resist the transition. What had been as easy as breathing was now a struggle due to the venom.

“Don’t do this,” Carla whispered, tears in her eyes. “I can’t be helpless when it comes to the two people I…”

His heart leaped into his throat. Did she care for him as he cared for her?

“The two people I care about most in the world,” she finished.

Not the words he craved, but they would carry him through his Stone Sleep. She would not be there in a century when he woke, but her words would warm his heart. “You are not helpless. You know what you must do.”

“This isn’t goodbye,” she said, tears now flowing.

“Know that I love you, Carla,” he said with this last breath as he slipped into Stone Sleep.

CARLA

A moral dilemma.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“You dick,” she said, her forehead pressed against his, tears rolling down her cheeks. The stone was cool to the touch. He didn’t feel alive. He felt… frozen.

She pressed a kiss to his stony lips and stepped back, wiping at her tears. “I’m so mad at you right now.”

Everything happened so quickly over the last week, she hadn’t had time to really process her emotions. Ari dropping the L-bomb on her didn’t help. She liked Ari, sure. She wanted to spend more time with him, absolutely. Love?

She’d only known him a week. Was what she felt genuine or just a byproduct of stress? Had she ever loved anyone? She never had a serious relationship, mostly due to fear of being trapped in an abusive situation like her parents. Look, she was emotionally stunted. She never claimed otherwise.

Ari didn’t feel like a trap. He felt… right. It was starry-eyed and probably delusional, but she trusted him. Enough to jump into a dark pit to be with him.

Enough to confess what was in her heart?

It didn’t matter. He was currently stone, and if she followed his orders, he would remain stone for a century. She’d never get to tell him how she felt.

Ugh, emotions were so complicated and messy. Things were easier when she just looked out for herself.

That was what the gargoyle did to her, told her he loved her and left her with feelings and a moral dilemma.

Carla hated those hypothetical “problems” like that trolley situation. Really hated them. People acted like it was so fucking difficult to know what was the right thing to do when people do what’s best for them. Every time. They might do a little song and dance, pretending to be ever so conflicted about sacrificing themselves for the greater good, but what happened when push came to shove?

Self-preservation or self-sacrifice?

Exactly. It was all baloney. Do you know what you call selfless people who sacrifice themselves for the greater good? Dead. The selfish survived, at least on this planet.

She had two choices, and both sucked.

Go to the Khargals to help treat Poppy, knowing they’d arrest Ari. There wouldn’t be visitations. He’d spend a century as a living statue. When his sentence was over, she’d be over one hundred thirty years old and long gone, so there was no waiting for him.

She could take her chances and find a cure for Poppy somewhere else. Medicine wasn’t the most advanced on Reazus Prime, but she had the entirety of Ari’s fortune to throw at the problem. Splashing money around would cause its own problems, like making herself a target, so she’d have to hire bodyguards, and would she be able to trust any of the people she hired?

No. Not one jot.

She’d do better sticking with the Khargals. They had advanced enough tech, and she had a chip to trade, as cold as reducing Ari to a bargaining chip sounded.

He’d understand.

He told her to do it.

“For the record,” she said, speaking out loud for Ari and Poppy, despite knowing neither could hear her, “this is a garbage situation. I hate it.”

Yeah, that helped.

The other option—the obvious best option—was to leave Poppy in a suspended state in the medical chamber and go live her best life with Ari. He would be in his stone form in a healing sleep for some time, but he would wake up. He promised. And maybe a cure would come along for Poppy, maybe not.

See? Not a dilemma. No need to wring her hands over a hypothetical trolley. No need to pretend to be a good person. Besides, good people didn’t thrive on Reazus Prime, and she was still determined to thrive.

When Ari woke up, they could work on finding treatment for Poppy. Did it really matter how long Poppy was in the chamber when the computer could keep the fungus from spreading? She wasn’t getting better, but she wasn’t getting worse, so that was a win.

It didn’t feel like a win. It felt like another garbage choice. After going through all this work to rescue Poppy, how could she leave the job half-done? Plus, if the situation were reversed, Poppy wouldn’t rest until Carla was cured and out of that medical chamber. So there was guilt to consider, too.

Living with guilt would get easier with time. Probably.

You just didn’t think about certain things, did you? Like how Carla never asked if her father sent a birthday card or was coming home for Christmas. She and her mother knew he wouldn’t be returning. Ever. Maybe he was buried in the backyard. Maybe he just pulled up stakes and drifted to a new life in a new town. She didn’t want to know the answer, so she never asked the question.

She’d just learn not to think about her friend, sealed in a tube, infected with a brain -eating fungus, while Carla got on with her life.

Impossible.

Just imagining the scenarios felt impossible. It’d eat away at her every day, and would that be thriving? She’d survive, but it’d be a miserable existence. Not even being with Ari would help.

And who was he anyway? Some alien. She had known him for like a week and she was ready to throw her friend under the bus for him. That said some unflattering things about Carla, which she did not appreciate. Sure, sex had been amazing, and she liked simply hanging out with him, but that was probably hormones clouding her judgment. One day, the lust-filled haze would clear, and she’d be horrified at her betrayal.

“Not just surviving, thriving,” she said, repeating her mantra.

So which choice was thriving, and which was merely surviving? Poppy or Ari? Friendship or love? She wanted both but couldn’t see a way to make it happen.

Carla brushed her fingertips across the medical chamber, Poppy’s sleeping face on the other side of the screen. “I’m sorry,” she said.

She knew what she had to do.

It took two days to get a meeting with the captain of the Khargal Patrol. A video meeting, not face-to-face. Two days of Carla compulsively checking Poppy’s vitals and Ari’s stone form. Two days of talking to herself because the ship was too silent. Two days of poking her nose into every corner of the ship because keeping busy as a snoop was a thousand times better than being consumed with worry.

In that time, Tavat’s empire crumbled. His lair was in utter destruction, and his allies and supporters turned on one another. Carla wasn’t going to lie; it was pretty satisfying. He had been on the ship that exploded and was presumed dead, or at least he hadn’t been seen since, but Carla had her doubts. Supervillains always fled at the last moment to make it into the next movie.

Space prison or being torn to shreds by his own zombies would have been perfect justice, but it was an imperfect world. Missing and presumed dead would have to do. She had a bucket full of popcorn sprinkled with schadenfreude, her favorite flavor, and she was content with that.

A Khargal woman’s image filled the screen, wearing a crisp uniform with military insignia. She frowned. “You are the female who accompanied Lord Solivair.”

Awesome. Off to a great start.

“Captain, I have a proposition,” Carla said, deciding to launch directly into her pitch. “My friend has a complex medical issue. You have the facilities necessary to save her life. I have information you desire.” Carla spread her hands wide in a gesture to invite negotiation. She really hoped that translated.

“Condolences for your friend, but there is nothing you have that interests us,” the captain said.

“I know the location of the death mask of Emperor Crai.” Presuming it was still intact and not buried under rubble. Tavat’s lair had a minor explosion problem when they made their escape.

“That is insufficient.”

“A Patrol was sent here to retrieve the mask and it’s insufficient?” Ari never specifically said the Khargal Patrol was there to find the mask, but she put the pieces together. She hoped it was a tempting enough bargaining chip.

“That was a cover so as to alarm our intended target.”

Apparently not, but the captain did not disconnect the call, which was good news. If they were talking, then they could reach a deal.

She had one chip left.

“Then I have something I think you’ll be interested in,” Carla said.