The Vanished Specialist (The Lost Planet 2)

“And I, them,” he replies. His eyes glow from the light Calix carries.

“How has the surgical bot fared? Is it still operational?” Calix asks.

“It’s been many, many revolutions since it’s been used, but I’ve done my best to keep it maintained. I’ve had to salvage parts to try and repair the comms systems with no success.”

Calix nods and glances back at me. He reaches back a hand to squeeze my own, his eyes growing concerned as he notes my breathing. With a lift of a brow, he expresses his worry, but I shake my head to let him know I don’t need to stop.

“What is your interest in the surgical bot?”

“My mate suffers from a breathing condition. I remember Father treating Belin here and how miraculously he healed. We have no other options and”—he glances back at me and lowers his voice—“my mate is deteriorating here. If she does not have this operation, I fear her breaths are numbered.”

They devolve into a highly technical discussion about the surgical unit’s machines, specifically the bot, and capabilities as we begin to climb a series of crude steps cut into the cave rocks within the mountain. As the altitude increases, breathing gets even harder. I can hear it echoing off the rock walls around me.

To distract myself, I imagine what will happen when Calix is successful at curing me. We’ll return to the facility and the other morts. Breccan and Aria will assign us a domicile of our own to begin our lives together. I fidget with the dizmonyx in my pocket. We’ll have a little ceremony with the others to cement our commitment. Then, I’ll become the best mate, because he deserves it.

From the beginning he’s been a dream. More than I deserve.

But if he gives me a chance to have that future with him, I’ll do whatever it takes to show him how much I appreciate him and all he’s done for me.

I’ll spend the rest of my life showing him.

He may be the key to saving my life, but I crave more than that from him.

So much more.

Love, a partner, a mate for life.

The jagged edges of the dizmonyx cut into the palm of my hand. The hope in my chest aches almost as much as my lungs as we reach the top of the incline.

Calix takes my elbow. “Are you well?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I utter, but there’s no denying the breathlessness in my voice. He starts to offer to help, but I wave it away. “So, this is Sector 1779?”

Lox opens a rusty looking door set into the rock. “This is the airlock entrance. The filters are still working, so you’ll be able to remove your rebreathers.”

The door comes open with a metallic clang, causing me to jump. The way the sound reverberates throughout the caves and the shadowed interior with the red light makes it feel like a bad sci-fi flick. I tell myself I’m being silly as we enter behind Lox.

“Let me give you a tour,” Lox says. “I’ll show you to the surgical unit and the bot first.”

Calix follows eagerly behind. “When do you think we can get started?”

“The machines will take a while to be prepped, but I anticipate we can get started as soon as tomorrow morning.”

Calix squeezes my hand and I smile weakly. “Thank you, Lox. We will never be able to repay you.”

“Transport back is more than enough, my friend.”

Lox’s thin form leads us through a hallway with flickering orange lights. If the facility’s components were decades out of date, Sector 1779 was like stepping through a door into medieval times, if they had access to technology. The walls and doors are made of reinforced steel instead of the indestructible plastic alloy I’ve grown used to. They clank and groan as we traverse through the hallways, making me think of the old suits of armor knights used to wear.

The surgical unit itself contains a single bed, with a few monitors, dated computers, and machines that look like torture devices. Apprehension churns in my belly and my hands grow clammy.

Noting my concern, Calix turns to me and runs a claw through my hair. “How are you feeling?” he asks as Lox mutters to himself and surveys the machines.

“I’m fine,” I answer, but my smile is wobbly. “Maybe a little weak,” I admit.

He looks contrite. “I have been so worried about getting here that I did not even consider how strenuous it must be for you. Lox, is there somewhere we can rest? My mate needs to gather her strength before the procedure. While she rests, we can go over what I would like to do, if you do not mind.”

“Of course, my friend. Let me show you to our sleeping quarters. It’s not much,” he warns.

“We will make do,” Calix replies.

He isn’t wrong. The small, dimly lit room has a small, threadbare cot in the middle. He leaves us there and says he’ll meet Calix back in the surgical unit after he retrieves some supplies.