I’ve felt uncomfortable all day. Nothing specific I can explain or clearly identify, though.
I’m not sick or hurting, but there’s definitely something making me feel like I need to keep moving. It’s hard to concentrate on the reading material Hannah has shared with Atticus and me. We’ve added everything Hannah gave us to our shared reading material.
During the last annual rotation, I’ve learned so much, not only from Atticus but also from the books we’ve been reading and discussing. It’s been liberating to have someone to talk freely with who also shares similar interests.
I try not to dwell too often on the book Atticus originally gave me, “Servale Solitude for the Modern Curator.” Usually, thoughts about the text sneak up on me while I’m about to fall asleep. Everything that I could understand was so dramatic—so old-fashioned.
That can’t apply to me now. If it does…
I hear Vekel in the medical bay. He’s our one full-time patient. Right now he’s talking in his sleep while Atticus changes the surrounding bedding.
I take the opportunity to focus on something else by creeping over silently to listen to him. I don’t want to miss a word.
Vekel’s been detoxing for quite a while now, and even though I do feel a little sorry for him, I feel even more sorry for Callim and Shelly.
Honestly, it appears Vekel made his choice knowingly. Not only did he seem to be aware of the drugs in his and Callim’s body that Hannah has now named “Gro-On”, but if he was a spy for the Council or some other group on the planet Quasar, then he knew what he was doing when he came on board the Discovery. It hasn’t been confirmed that he’s a spy, but what else could he be?
At this point, I plan to just be cautious since I’ll never know one way or the other, I’m sure.
“What’d he say?” I keep my voice pitched low as I quiz Atticus, who’s frozen in front of me, waiting like I am to see if Vekel says anything else.
“It’s wrong,” Atticus whispers back.
As we wait, motionless, to see if Vekel says anything else, my lungs seize as if a fist has tightened around them. Atticus grips his collar as he jerks right and left in front of me. I can’t help him though as I fight through the gripping sensation, too.
Could he be feeling the same thing I am? Like all the air has been sucked out of the room?
My lungs are screaming for oxygen. I can’t breathe as the pain escalates tighter and then—it’s gone.
A buzzing begins in my ears, and I try to focus on Atticus, making sure he’s not suffering the same as I am. Gasping for air, I can’t even talk as I continue battling to breathe.
Shouting from outside the room catches my attention before I even have enough breath in my lungs to speak. Atticus doesn’t even appear to notice my distress as he brushes by me to run toward the door.
Grasping at him, I heave in gulps of air, wondering if the shouts I’m hearing are others suffering the same.
Atticus pauses outside the medical bay door, looking around the hall with a confused look on his face.
Lungs burning, I lean heavily against the opening as I start to register what’s being said around me. The droning in my ears tapers off as words hit me.
“Bless the Sacred Mother!”
Some of our crew mates are embracing down the hall, and it only takes an instant to see why. Colors flash on their skin under the lights as they clasp their forearms.
Atticus seems confused in front of me as his eyes dart from one side of the hall to the other. But I understand.
Mating marks.
Springing from the doorway, I ignore my shortness of breath. Fuck that! I have a lot more important things to be thinking about than breathing.
Reaching out, I flip the release on Atticus’s suit, and he looks confused until the material parts. His hands pause their futile effort to stop me, freezing as they hover over his chest before dropping to his skin to trace the faint, still-red markings developing there.
The marks don’t look like Bren’s yet, more like the females when they first appear on their skin, but it’s definitely them.
Mating marks!
Practically tearing the fastener at the top of my suit, I part the material quickly, yanking it apart in my haste.
Yes!
They’re there. Mine are clearer and darker than Atticus’s. The markings dominate my body as I feel the cooler hall air float across them.
Yes, yes… yes.
I don’t remember howling, but my fists hit the ceiling of the corridor in a victory cry as I feel elation like I’ve never experienced before, shooting me from the floor. The next few moments are hazy as Atticus and I study each other while feet pound up and down the surrounding hall.
Hoots, hollers, and embraces are shared with everyone as we laugh and clasp hands, offering congratulations to each other.
Of course, it’s Atticus who asks the obvious as I release him from another embrace. “Do you have any idea why this has happened?”
I know I don’t care. And how would I know? But as usual, he’s right though.
“I’m certain I don’t care about the why right now, but you could contact Bren to ask him. He’s on the surface of Dactyles below us and has been since we arrived. From the sounds of it, everyone else is too busy celebrating to worry about that aspect of the miracle yet.”
Confirming that Atticus is already making the call, I turn from the medical bay door. Placing my palm against my naked chest, I press gently on the skin. No bruising to the touch.
Inhaling deeply, I confirm the burning sensation I felt before has completely disappeared.
Whatever crash course mating happened, it appears to have had no long-term effects. This is great because, for a moment there, I was sure the air quality had been compromised on the Discovery. It’s the only time I can ever remember feeling frightened on board the spaceship.
Seriously concerned. Not only for my well-being but for everyone else’s, as well.
Mumblings from Vekel on the bed across the room remind me of what Atticus and I were doing when this all began. Listening to his mindless words and trying to determine if anything he says will give us a hint of who may have been directing his actions aboard the Discovery. If we hadn’t seen him leave the medical bay and head to engineering, there’s a chance we’d all be dead.
But now… now, I’m curious about something even more important. The mating marks. Will someone like Vekel, who may not have been the mastermind behind whatever is going on but obviously knows more than he’s sharing with the rest of his male brethren, have mating marks like us now?
It doesn’t appear so. Vekel pushed the sheets down to his upper arms and only the wrap-around, thin robe covered his upper body. When I reach his side, I slowly extend forward and grasp the sheet between two fingers, rolling it down to expose the bare skin in the V of his robe.
Sure enough—nothing.
Looking over my shoulder, I give a knowing look to Atticus as his communication to Bren appears to be connecting. When he nods his head in solemn agreement, I know he feels the same.
Vekel is in no condition to have a mate. He can’t take care of himself, let alone anyone else.
Methodically tucking the sheet around him, I ignore Vekel’s continual twitching and mumbling. I don’t know why, but I feel as if he’s already been convicted of a crime. It’s not something that I’ve made a conscious decision about. It’s more a knowing.
My body has already decided for me.
Some would say that’s not logical. After all, why would someone allow himself to become so sick when, technically, he not only had the capability—but knowledge to help himself?
Instead, Vekel was giving the drugs that would keep him stable to Callim. He should have come to Atticus and me as doctors for help. For some reason, he allowed himself to become sick to the point of death.
In my head, he wanted to die. If that’s not guilt, I don’t know what is.
Hannah worked with us to establish a regimen for weaning Vekel off the drugs. But because of the quantity consumed over the years, his body didn’t handle it well. He had so much more in his system than Callim. We aren’t sure if this was because Callim was being transferred to The Mating Re-emergence Study when we pulled him from the planet. Maybe the doctors were already weaning him off the Gro-On?
Or maybe the Gro-On was a tool they were using to make him do what they wanted?
Honestly, I think we’re giving Vekel too much credit. If he was honorable, wouldn’t he have killed himself before in an effort to save others? But if he had done that, would he have been able to help Callim on board the Discovery like he did?
The whole dilemma makes my head spin. But there’s one thing I do know. I’d rather be dead than a pawn being used to hurt others in a game of blackmail.
Unfortunately, we won’t know for sure until Vekel wakes up.
Turning away, I realize Atticus is speaking with Bren and all my unanswered questions come rushing back to me.
Moving closer, I wave my hands to get his attention.
