“No. I believe she told us what she remembered. She did not know enough about it, unfortunately.” Dr. Daneth shakes his head. “She said she never created the toxin herself.”
“Why would the old woman send her out into the universe without the knowledge? Veck.” I furl my brows. “It’s a kind of a waste of information and a vessel.”
Dr. Daneth picks up a vial and holds it up to the light. It flashes iridescent, but still does not look exactly like the fluid in Taisha’s vials. “We assume she was possibly trying for protection—if the human, Taisha, were captured, she’d never be able to give up the exact formula. But we have enough knowledge to work with it, assuming we can at some point get the venom and fruit extracts we need from Romon-3.”
“Are you saying we need to go back there?” I immediately think of how we can make that work. “And collect asps?” I raise my eyebrows. “That will be dangerous. I’d rather avoid that planet for the time being.”
“Understood, but it may be necessary.”
I nod and tap my comm. “Send me the specifics, and I can set up a mission.”
“I will, but we need you to bond with her as well. If she is comfortable with you, she may relax and remember more about the procedures. And we will want her here in the lab as soon you deem her safe.” The doctor gives me a pointed look, then glances at his mate.
“Experience shows that humans who bond more rapidly with Zandians and fellow humans integrate faster, and become useful on planet more quickly,” she reminds me.
I nod, although I am aware my expression is probably tight. “I understand.”
“Are you planning to mate her?” The doctor’s voice is bland, but his eyes are sharp.
Mate her.
The words shoot straight through my chest and sink into my heart.
I never saw myself mating a human. Other Zandians speak of how the bond with humans strengthens their ability to perform once they are accustomed to the changes, but it sounds like an excuse to me. I like staying active on missions, being an impartial judicial sage. And the humans have the effect of making Zandians emotional. Changing our ability to remain impartial. Judicious. This is the most critical part of my entire life. It would seriously affect my career.
“I’m her guardian, and nothing more,” I mutter. “It would be inappropriate, if I am to judge her suitability on this planet.”
I think I see Bayla smile before she hides it behind her hand. Then she turns. “Excuse me, but I must check these samples,” she says.
Then she adds, busy doing something with glass slides and a pipette, “There have been, ahem, other couples on Zandia who started out the exact same way, and blossomed into something more. I’m just saying.”
My face feels hotter, and I can tell it’s probably a deeper purple. Veck these humans and their irritating sensitivity to emotions. And their ability to bring ours out of hibernation.
“That may be true, but I am aware of what is best for my own situation.” I clear my throat. “So I will provide you information when I have it.”
“Thank you.”
Doctor Daneth is lucky to have found a mate with whom he has such a strong bond, both at work and in the personal sphere.
But we’re not all meant to have that. Some of us work better alone. At least I know my limitations.
Taisha
“Here are some holos.” His voice is gruff, but his gestures are gentle as he hands me a stack of shiny discs and touches my arm.
The contact gives me that tingly shock as always. “Thank you.”
“Information about our planets. Made by humans, for humans.” He’s standing close enough that I can see the details in his eyes, the way the golden brown and purple work together. Gorgeous.
“I know you are probably bored here when I am not present.”
I nod. “I… would be grateful for diversion. I have thoroughly investigated the nutrition center a dozen times, organized the foodstuffs five different ways, and memorized the layout and things inside this domicile.” I laugh. I don’t mention the panic attacks and the tears that come at odd times, making me quake and sweat and shiver. The flashbacks to being trapped on their ship, nearly dying of thirst.
But he steps closer. “Your eyes are red and puffy.” He touches the skin next to my lid. “What is wrong? Are you ill?”
I look down. “Nothing. I am grateful to be here.”
“Were you weeping?” His voice drops. “Taisha?” He touches my chin. “Answer me.” But his voice is not cruel or harsh. “What is it?” He sounds… concerned.