I point across the room. “I’m strong enough. I can withstand any human virus, anyway. I don’t need it.” I blink. “Please, put it out of my sight. I’ll be fine on the planet. It was a momentary panic. That is all.”
“Kailani.” He sighs. “The bacteria on this planet are different from a virus. They can still make you very ill. I’m immune to it, but if I brought it back, I could kill you.”
Chapter 6
Khrys
Veck. This complication, unexpected and intense, could prevent us from getting her flower supply before I need to get her back to Zandia. This detour alone—which may take over a solar rotation, will waste precious time in which the halflings back on Zandia get sicker. We simply don’t have time to wait even more time for her to master her panic.
But beyond that, seeing her in such distress affects me physically. Now I understand why they say humans bring out emotions in my normally stoic species. The need for me to protect her from her pain overwhelms me.
I sit on the bench and pull her down onto my lap.
“You’re stronger than you think.” I turn her, so I can look into her face. “You can do this.”
“I—I really don’t think I can.” She shakes her head. Her whole demeanor is downcast and tense.
“You’ve survived this long.” I touch her cheek. “I know you can handle one inoculation more because you’re strong. You helped us escape. You’re brilliant. You’ve got perseverance and bravery.”
She blinks, her eyes wide. “Wow. Do you really mean those things?”
“Has no being told you this before?” I curse the universe for putting this incredible human into such a horrible situation.
“I’m appreciated by the Kraa for my functionality. Not for myself.” She frowns. “I am a tool to them. I just inconveniently happen to be alive with thoughts and feelings.”
If I could, I’d kill every last Kraa that exists just to give her a sense of closure. “I meant every word.” I pause and choose my next words with care. “What if you sit here, just like this, and I give you the inoculation? You can tell me when to do it. Or you could even give it to yourself.”
She shivers but doesn’t say no. She looks again to the window, and I know what she’s thinking.
“The weather is going to turn. If we don’t get the flowers soon, the rains will come and ruin the pollen for this season. We have a very short window of opportunity.”
She sighs and looks back at me. “All right. You do it.”
“Good.” I fetch the device from the console.
Her whole body goes still as I take her back into my arms.
“I can’t look.” She clears her throat and taps her food rapidly on the smooth floor of the cabin.
“I’m readying it now. It will make a noise, and you’ll smell the alcohol, but I won’t touch it to your skin until you say yes.”
I flip the protective cap up, and she flinches, hard, so hard her whole body jerks into mine with force.
I steady her. “It won’t hurt—not even for a human. When I receive inoculations, I feel the briefest pin prick, and a cold sensation as the medicine goes into the tissue. It will only take a millisecond.”
“All right.” She nods and squeezes her eyes shut. She takes a deep breath. “Do it.”
In a flash, I press the sleek cylinder to her arm and press the trigger. There’s a short click, and it’s done.
She sits so still, I can’t tell if she’s passed out or not. Then she says, “Is that all?”
I put the spent device behind me. “All over.”
“That was it?” She opens her eyes. Touches her arm. “It doesn’t hurt.” She looks up at me, and her eyes fill with tears. “You didn’t lie.” She gulps. “I’m all right. There’s no surgery.”
Suddenly, she burst into sobs, her shoulders heaving with cries so deep and long that I grab her again.
“I can’t believe I’m not in that cell,” she sniffs between jerks of her body. “Owned by the Kraa. It’s all I’ve wanted for so long, and now that I’m out…” She squeezes herself against me, like she’s trying to merge with my skin. “I don’t even know how to do this. To live in a new environment.”