The Vanished Specialist Page 8

  And I’ll be damned if I lose that now.

  It takes longer than I like and Calix groans in pained protest as I maneuver his body out of the dust-mobile and onto the thick blanket. His head wound is bleeding profusely, but he’s still breathing based on the rhythmic and reassuring sound echoing in our comms.

  “Almost done, baby. We just have to get you inside and we’ll be okay,” I tell him.

  White spots dance along my vision, but I grit my teeth and get back to my feet. Gripping the blanket tight in both hands, I begin to heave it backward toward the vacuuroom. I have to pause several times on the edge of losing consciousness, but I fight to keep myself upright and drag him in fits and starts into the shelter and away from the storm. The decontamination process is an easy press of a button that sprays off the harmful toxins on our suits before giving us a healthy burst of air to dry us. It takes some wrangling, but I manage to remove both of our zu-gear, masks, and boots. Now that I can’t hear his breathing in the mask, I am worried. I feel a fluttery pulse under my fingers when I press my hand to his throat. He’s still alive.

  “We made it. We’re safe.”

  I know he can’t hear me, but I keep talking as I work him the rest of the way in the vacuuroom and lock up the doors behind us. I’m not sure how bad it’s going to get or if we’re even safe, but if the force of my will could sway the elements, we will be.

  Food now, Emery.

  I leave him propped against a wall inside our shelter just inside the decontamination area before readying the space for us. I take two of the meals he’d shown me before and manage, I hope, to properly heat them up. Once it and our beds are ready, I go back to Calix.

  Bracing myself along the wall of the room, I shuffle to a bank of shelving where I find more clothes, supplies, and yes bandages. Everything is marked in their language, but I take a tube of cream and hope it’s an antibacterial salve.

  Using a bottle of water and a swath of cloth, I tenderly clean the jagged edges of his wound. It’s deeper and bigger than I’d anticipated—the blood had obscured most of it. About four inches long and so deep I swear I see the white of his skull underneath, the wound steals what’s left of my breath. Frantic thoughts of brain damage and blood loss assault me, but I keep repeating the directions.

  Clean the wound, Emery.

  Put on the salve, Emery.

  Bandage the wound, Emery.

  When I’m done, I sit back on my heels, quivering. I watch him for a few long moments, like my doctoring will have some magical effect and he’ll wake if I hope hard enough.

  But he doesn’t.

  My stomach clenches and I force myself to eat the freeze-dried meat and vegetables I prepared, but I don’t taste it. I know I’ll need to keep my strength up, so I make sure to finish all of it, even licking the tasteless gravy from my fingers. I purify a bottle of water and drink all of that, too.

  When there is nothing left to do, I settle down next to Calix and rest my head on his shoulder, hoping a short nap will calm my breathing. Hoping when I wake up, Calix will be better.

  Hope is like oxygen. The more I need it, the less my body seems able to absorb.

  10

  Calix

  The throbbing in my nog pulls me from a deep slumber, much to my annoyance. I blink several times to clear away my daze. My memory is fuzzy. Emery starred in my dreams, beautiful but worried. I remember her bringing broth and water to my lips. Assisting me in using the facilities. Sponge bathing me. Mostly, I remember how she clung to me.

  I reach for her and the blanket is cold beside me. Panic rises up inside me as I try to shake away the cloud in my nog.

  What solar is it?

  How many solars have passed?

  Why does my nog hurt so bad?

  I begin to frown and feel a tugging at my temple. Tentatively, I reach up and touch the tender area that is protected by a bandage.

  “Emery,” I croak.

  Just beyond the vacuuroom, I can hear the wind raging outdoors. We are no longer in the elements, but we are close. I know we never traveled around Bleex Mountain. We were close to it but still two or three solars’ worth of travel around the mountain we still had ahead of us.

  Rekk.

  I remember the crash.

  Everything else comes in flashes.

  “Emery,” I call out, sitting up on my elbows. The pounding in my skull grows worse, but I ignore it as I seek her out.

  When she does not answer, my heart ceases to beat. What if she succumbed to her illness? Or a beast decided to make a meal of her? What if she never survived the crash and my memories were not memories at all, but just my soul longing for hers?

  I have to get out of here.

  It takes everything in me to get to my feet. A wave of nausea roils through me and I stagger into a wall, hitting my shoulder hard. I let out a groan, shake away the daze, and continue for the door into the decontamination chamber. I have enough sense in me to struggle into my zu-gear, my books, and my protective rebreather under my mask attached properly before exiting.

  As soon as I am out the door, I take in the scene around me. We seem to be inside a cave. I come to the realization that Emery did all this alone. While I was injured and unconscious, she saved us. Pride surges through me. My lilapetal is a fighter. I just hope she keeps fighting.

  “Emery,” I call out again.

  I walk past the vacuuroom toward the mouth of the cave. The storm is violent outdoors and I hope she did not decide to go out there. It would be suicide. Turning from the storm, I make my way past the vacuuroom deeper into the cave where it darkens. Something glows beyond, so I follow the light. It leads into a narrow crevasse tall enough for me to walk through and wide enough for two morts to walk side by side. It seems awfully unnatural.

  “Emery!” I bellow her name when I see her slumped on the floor of the cave. No mask. Just an external rebreather. Panic threatens to consume me, but I cannot worry about those things now. I need to focus on one problem at a time. Crouching beside her, I take her nog in my gloved hands, tilting her face up. Her eyes are closed and she’s too pale. When her lids flutter, relief floods through me. I am not too late.

  I am weak and my nog has turned to a maddening thunder, but all I care about is her wellbeing. I am not strong enough to carry her, but I am able to get her to her feet and rouse her enough so she can stand. Together, we hobble back to the vacuuroom. Once inside the safety of the makeshift facility, I begin stripping away our zu-gear after the rigorous decontamination process.

  Her eyes close and she nearly collapses. I gather her in my arms, dragging her through the door into the main room and over to our bed. Once I have her settled and comfortable, I set to gathering my supplies. A quick check of her vitals tells me she’s not doing well at all.

  Rekk!

  I am overcome with defeat and slump beside her. Without the equipment I need, she will surely die. The thought is too much to bear. If she passes, my heart will cease to beat. I will die along with her.

  Burying my nose in her hair, I try to memorize her scent. My body wraps around her and I try to warm her, as though that will help somehow. It is a lost cause, but it still feels right. All that can be heard is the loud rattling in her chest. After several moments, her voice comes out in the barest of whisper.

  “Make love to me.”

  I lift up, letting out a harsh chuckle. “Emery—”

  A shaky finger presses to my lips. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you…” She squeezes her eyes shut and coughs hard. The wheeze in her chest is terrifying. “It helps.”

  “What helps?” I demand, frowning at her.

  “When…when we did it…” Tears fill her pretty blue eyes and then race down her temples. “I felt so much better.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask gently, pressing kisses to her soft flesh.

  “I was afraid to hope,” she whispers. “Now, hope is all we have left.”

  Our eyes lock for a long moment as indecision
wars inside me.

  “Calix,” she murmurs. “Just do it.” She goes into a coughing fit that makes my heart nearly cease. “J-Just get your c-cock wet. Do it quickly. I don’t have the energy for anything else. Please.”

  Her pleading does me in. I make haste on removing her minnasuit. Mine gets stripped away in the next instant. When I hold up my palm and frown at it, Emery takes my wrist and draws it to her mouth.

  Gently, she pushes out her sweet, fat tongue and licks my palm. My mind nearly detonates with a million simultaneous thoughts about how unsanitary this is. But before I can stop her actions, she is guiding my hand back to my cock. I am not hard until she wraps my hand around my length. Taking over, I stroke myself until I am fully erect while also smearing her saliva all over. I give her a questioning look and she gives me a small nod.

  “I am yours,” I vow as I gently push into her body. “I will always do your bidding. No matter how unusual your request.” Like asking me to mate with her on her deathbed.

  She smiles. “I’m yours too.”

  Gathering my fragile lilapetal into my arms, I pull her up and against my chest as I sit back on my haunches. She rests her nog on my shoulder and her hot breath tickles my neck. I grab her fleshy bottom and urge her body up and down my shaft. Another coughing fit takes hold of her, causing her cunt to clench with each cough. I press my lips to her nog and let out a groan. My release comes quick and easy, knowing this is not about pleasure, but about healing. The sooner I spill my seed, the sooner we can see if it helps any.

  We’re quiet as the toxica effects spread through her. She slumps against me. Softly, I stroke her bare back and kiss her nog. I guide us back down onto the bed, but remain inside her. Her blue eyes are wide as she studies my face up close. While she stares, I push her hair from her face and lap away the lingering tears on her cheeks. We remain like this for some time until she begins to feel again. Her body twitches and squirms until she is now stroking my hair.

  And smiling.

  Big and beautiful.

  Perfect.

  “Calix,” she says, her smile widening. Strong. Her voice is stronger. “We need to get you to a lab.”

  “How long does it work for?” I ask, my mind already working out tests I want to run on each of us. Blood. Semen. Saliva. I want to run it all against each other under a micro-viewer so I can see what healing properties there may be.

  “Well, last time, the storm wiped me out. And then the accident. Maybe a few hours I felt really good,” she tells me. Her brow lifts. “You look pretty wiped out, though.”

  “I am fine,” I assure her.

  “But we can use the microbot thingies to help heal you.” Her brows are furled with concern that makes my heart surge with pride.

  “Nonsense. I will save those for your much-needed surgery.”

  She lets out a sigh as she concedes. “Okay, but we at least need to get some real food into you.”

  “This, we can do.” I cannot help but grin at her. “And then I’ll mate with you in a few hours. To keep your strength up.”

  “To keep my strength up,” she mirrors.

  Hope, like a little mortling inside a womb, implants and begins to grow in our hearts.

  “Are you sure about this?” she asks as she stares into the crevasse.

  I nod as I look down at my zenotablet. The geo-positioning sonar program shows that Sector 1779 is directly on the other side of the mountain. Hope tells me that crevasse is not a coincidence. It was too perfectly carved. We cannot go out into the geostorm and around the mountain, but what if we attempted to go through it instead?

  “I am hopeful,” I tell her, meeting her with a smile.

  “Hope’s good enough for me.”

  I memorize her smile before we disappear into the depths of the cave where it will be cold. After another mating after dinner, she is pink-cheeked and breathing easily. I absolutely must get to a lab and run these tests. Until then, we will make do.

  Even if that means I have to take her against a cave wall every few steps and then carry her afterward while the toxica is healing her broken body.

  My cock strains against my minnasuit and I chuckle. “Come now, lilapetal. Time is of the essence.”

  I shoulder our pack and take her hand in mine. She shines the light into the tunnel and we make our way into the darkness while I read the geo-positioning sonar.

  Hope leads the way.

  “What are these?” Her fingers reach past me to the cave wall I am leaned against as she runs her dull, useless claws against the rock.

  We have stopped dozens of times over the past two solars within the cave just to do this. Mate. Medicinal mating is what we have affectionately taken to calling it. Each time, she waits patiently while I test the R-levels that are always non-existent within the cave. The air inside this cavern has proven to be safe. Now that we are no longer in such a rush, I also take the time to bring her pleasure beforehand. Now that the toxica is finally leaving her system, she is regaining movement in her limbs after our latest mating. And like the curious being I am learning her to be, she is intrigued by her surroundings.

  I turn my nog to look at the sparkling gem lodged in the rock that sparkles from the glow of the light we set up nearby. “Ahhh, that is a dizmonyx. Rare, but quite durable. Oz can turn these gems into sharp tools that can cut through anything. They are tough gems, but incredibly beautiful.” I look back at her face and kiss her pert nose. “Kind of like you.”

  Her grin is sweet and happy. I want to make her do that more often.

  “Can I have one?”

  A chuckle resounds from me. “You can have whatever you want, my mate.”

  “Your mate, huh?” she teases, returning her fingers to my hair.

  “Always,” I say with a possessive growl.

  Her forehead rests against mine and she lets out a pleased sigh. “Where I come from, they call it marriage.”

  I am reminded of the ceremony that bound Aria and Breccan. It warms my heart. “Will you marry me like Aria married the commander?”

  Her lips quirk up. “Most men would propose from their knees.”

  “I am not like most men,” I tease.

  The smile on her face falls and I panic for a moment thinking I chased it away. Her lip wobbles. “No, you’re better, Calix. You’re better than any man or any alien in the galaxy. You’re the best.”

  I give her a quick peck to her lips and grip her hips to pull her off me. Once I’ve cleaned her and we redress, I hunt down my pick and small mallet. Her laughter echoes through the cave and I decide it is the best sound I have ever heard.

  “Which one?”

  She squats and points to one that juts out of the rock. I kneel beside her to take a look. It is mostly sticking out, so it only takes a few hard cracks of the mallet to loosen it. Once I have it in my grasp, I hand it to her.

  “Yes,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “The answer is yes. I’ll marry you.”

  Before I can respond, we hear a growl.

  I am on my feet with her pushed behind me in the next second. Something lurks in the darkness. Sabrevipes don’t venture this deep into the mountains. Something else creeps.

  “Whoooo arrrre youuuu?” it hisses just beyond the edge of the light, the voice echoing all around.

  “It talks,” Emery whimpers.

  “Light,” I mutter under my breath.

  She shuffles behind me and then her small pocket light gets shined toward the source.

  “What the—” I start, confused by what I am seeing.

  A mort, tall as me but rail thin squints against the light. His black and silver mane is braided and hangs down in front of his chest. White whiskers stick out in every direction along his jaw and cheeks.

  “Name,” I bark out, my pick still pointing out in front of me in case I need to use it against him to protect Emery.

  “Loxxxx.”

  I cock my nog to the side and pull down my spectacles from the top of my nog, affixing them o
n the end of my nose to get a better look.

  “Phalix?” he croaks out. “Is that you?”

  His words are a punch to my chest. “That was my father. I’m Calix.”

  He barks out a laugh. “Rekk, you got big, son.”

  “And I thought you were dead, old mort.”

  11

  Emery

  I should be grateful we’ve found someone else, but my smile is wobbly as the two morts lurch forward for a manly embrace. I’ve been enjoying the alone time with Calix, even if it’s been wrought with peril. I’m a bit sad to see it end, considering the risks associated with the upcoming surgery.

  One more night, long enough for us to get to the sector and figure out a plan—then I’ll tell him. The impulse for honesty after all we’ve shared is inherently selfish, I recognize that, but I don’t want to die and have him find out some other way. The thought of him looking at me with anything other than affection chills me to the bone and I begin to shiver, even though I’m sweating.

  “This planet hasn’t killed me yet,” Lox replies.

  “I see your translator is working,” Calix tells him and then pauses. “When Sayer delivered the technology and instructions many revolutions ago, we were not sure if anyone would find it or have use for it.”

  Lox grins toothily. “I found it.”

  “Who inserted it?” Calix asks, unease in his tone.

  His friend, with a wild glint in his eyes, taps the side of his head. “I did it my rekking self.”

  Calix is quiet for a moment and then chuckles. “I cannot believe you have been here all this time. It is rekking good to see you.” I’ve never seen Calix smile so big before. It must make him remember his dad, considering the two of them worked in Sector 1779 before he died.

  “Good to see you as well, my friend. It’s been many solars since I’ve had such a good one. Come, come with me. Sector 1779 is a short walk from these caves. Tell me about your journey along the way.”