24. Libby

The lab is stunning. It stands on a hill, a building of colorful solar glass and classic Kilgarian architecture. I have to pinch myself to make sure that this isn't just a dream.

"Doctor Libby Martin?" a Kilgari man asks. He's wearing a lab coat, holding a clipboard, and looking irritated to be the one showing the new kid around.

"That's me," I reply, holding out a hand. "And you are?"

He shakes it. "Doctor Cor Dex. I'll show you to your office."

As we meander down the halls, he points out the various labs and the kinds of studies that are being run within. It all sounds so fascinating, and I feel as though I could talk for hours to each and every scientist in here. Even with all the time in the world, I would only be scratching the surface of their expertise.

Ever since I was young, I've felt this drive within me to solve the mysteries of the universe. Much like everything else in life, I don't fully understand it, but that won't stop me from trying.

"I haven't gotten the chance to read your grant proposal," Cor says. "What will you be researching?"

"The fated mate phenomena," I reply and take a breath, ready to ramble about it when Cor laughs. It's like sticking a pin in a balloon. All my enthusiasm dissipates into thin air.

The Kilgari clears his throat. "Forgive me. That was rude. I've never been much of a believer in fated mates."

"A bit rude, yeah," I reply, my smile tight. "But I get it. The existence of fated mates has not been scientifically proven, but that's what's so fascinating to me. The concept appears across several species, even those that developed millions of lightyears apart. If it was purely a cultural phenomenon, then the idea would not be so widespread. And if there is a scientific reason behind them, then there's a chance it can be measured or we can figure out what causes it."

Cor hums thoughtfully. "I suppose I see the reasoning behind your field of study."

"But you think it's, in your professional opinion, nonsense," I finish for him.

He smiles sheepishly. "I wasn't going to say that."

"I've heard worse," I say with a shrug. Nonsense is probably one of the nicest things my theories have been called. Fringe is another nicer one. But most call it ridiculous bullshit.

"You're clearly passionate about the subject," he says, another damnation by faint praise. It's fine. I've heard it all before anyway.

That doesn't stop it from stinging, though. I remember my last job. Most were perfectly nice to my face, but then, I'd hear them laughing about me and my fated mate theories in the breakrooms, only to quickly hush each other once I entered them.

It's the kind of petty bullshit that I thought we'd left behind in high school. Though I hate it, there isn't really anything I can do about it. "It's fine, Cor. Just don't be obvious when you start making fun of me."

He furrows his brows. "Make fun? But I just said that it was an avenue of research worth pursuing, assuming that the experiments are performed with proper academic rigor, of course."

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Just because I'm interested in how the metaphysical might impact the real world, it doesn't mean that I've completely abandoned my scientific principles.

"Of course," I echo him instead, and then change the subject. If there's one thing that scientists love, it's rambling about their projects. "So, what are you working on?"

He smiles, takes a breath, and begins to explain how he's training artificially intelligent nanotech to be used by soldiers on the frontlines. I'm fascinated, and we talk about the risks and rewards of developing this technology.

He seems satisfied by our conversation as he leads me to an elevator. My office is on the third floor. Because my discipline is considered something of a ‘soft science,' it's more cubicle spaces and private interview rooms.

I have almost full access to the facilities, so if I want to do a brain scan or a blood test, I can. I say almost, though, because there are some areas that are only allowed to scientists with a security clearance.

"Here you are," Cor says, showing me to my office. As expected, it's small. Hardly more than a cleaning closet, but it's mine.

"Thank you," I say.

Cor gives me the access codes to my computer along with a holo map of the laboratory so that I won't get lost. "Let me know if you need anything else," he says on the way out.

"Thank you again," I reply, and then get to work arranging my workspace and setting up my tools.

I work for a few hours straight, only stopping when the call of nature makes herself known. As I turn the corner for the bathroom, I nearly run right into the security guard who happens to have been also turning at that exact moment.

"Oh, excuse me," I say.

His arms shoot out to steady me, and I look up to thank him, only for the breath to leave my lungs as though I've been punched. It's the man I met first thing this morning when I arrived in the building, but looking at him this closely, it's as if something resonates in my very soul.

His eyes have haunted my dreams ever since I was a child. His face changes a little from one dream to the next, but the eyes never do. That's how I know it is always him.

"Are you okay?" he asks, shaking me out of my stunned reverie.

I nod, embarrassed. "You know scientists. We always have our heads in the clouds."

"I guess," he says with a shrug. "Just watch where you're going next time, okay?"

I nod again and watch him go before opening my notepad and typing furiously. Is this how it feels to meet your fated mate? Every story of fated mates I've ever read about feels something in their first interaction with their mate, but humans aren't nearly as attuned to it as most alien species are. Is there a reason I can feel this when he doesn't?

I'm a scientist, and science is about gathering data. I just need more information. So, I'm going to pay extra attention to him and see if this is anything beyond me simply finding him attractive.

When I go out to lunch, I'm not planning to run into him, but he's there. I watch him talking with another security guard as they carry their bagged lunches to a picnic ground.

There's a homeless Alzohn sitting on the corner, and I see what the guard is about to do before he does it. He's going to go up to her, give her his lunch, and then return to his friend. When asked about it, he'll shrug and say, "She needed it more than me."

And just as I predicted, he does exactly that, right on down to what he says to his friend.

Lunch forgotten for the moment, I duck into an alleyway to take some notes on what just happened. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe it was me fantasizing about a new infatuation, wanting to see him as a good guy, only for my daydream to be proven true.

But I know he's done this before and used almost that exact wording to brush off a charitable deed. But I lose track of him when I return to the main street, so I decide to get lunch instead of pursuing this and hope that I'll run into him again soon.

I work through the rest of the day. It's mostly mindless orientation stuff, but it has to be done. By the time I'm finished, everyone else has left and the world outside is dark.

There is a security guard in the main atrium, and for a moment, I'm hopeful that it's the mystery man. But no, it's the other guy. The one that my guard was walking with to lunch.

When I see him, a strange feeling of repulsion settles in the pit of my stomach. It's the opposite of the way I felt when I ran into the first guard.

If there's such a thing as a fated mate, could there be such a thing as a fated enemy? Because that's the only way I can explain the rage and distrust that I feel when I see him.

He waves to me as I leave, and I force a smile and wave back. The look in his eye is unsettling. This guard knows. I don't know how I can tell, but I'm sure that he knows how I feel when I see him.

Does he also know why? Or does he just sense my own revulsion at his presence?

As soon as I'm out of his sight, I jot down the notes about the incident into my comm pad. Before I talk to either of them, I need to investigate further.