answer. I was also dying to hear it, to finally know something.
“Human,” she said immediately. “Granted, my equipment isn’t the most sophisticated available, but the only difference I see is this increased white-blood-cell count. It’s healthy, normal blood. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
For the first time in my life, I understood the idea of going weak-kneed with relief.
“In terms of the illness on Starway 8, what can we do with it?” I asked, trying not to get my hopes up. “Do you think it would be safe to inject? The imbalance wouldn’t hurt someone else?”
“In large doses, like a blood transfusion, it might be hard for a person to adjust. But…” Her green eyes lit up as she drew out the word again. “Give me a few more days, and I might have a shot that’ll kick that virus in the butt.”
* * *
I made sandwiches for the men outside and then let Bonk out onto the platform for a quick romp in the sun. When he got tired of sniffing around, I took him in and then headed back to the kitchen for my own lunch with Miko and Shiori. I told them about Fiona’s experiments and asked Miko to set a course for the orphanage. I wanted the coordinates programmed in so that we could make the jump to Sector 8 the second the Endeavor was ready for space travel again.
Neither of them looked all that eager about returning to the Dark, and I ignored the pang in my chest when I thought about flying away from Albion 5—and Shade Ganavan.
Procrastinating because I dreaded drawing my own blood again, I cleaned up the kitchen with Miko’s help and then checked in with Mareeka, who responded that the situation was getting steadily worse on Starway 8, although the Dark Watch hadn’t imposed a quarantine yet.
Apparently, she’d hit the whole place with a massive round of strong antibiotics as a last resort, but it hadn’t done a thing.
It’s viral, she wrote. Surral is working hard. She sends her love. Coltin is okay for now.
I closed my eyes, picturing the handsome little boy. My heart always ached when I thought about him, and my fingers curled, as though trying to hold on to the feel of soft baby fuzz on a tiny head. That sensation was just a memory now, like Coltin’s first tooth popping through, his gurgling laugh, or his chubby, spit-wet fingers grabbing on to my hair and pulling hard.
He didn’t need a replacement mother anymore. Our relationship had turned into something more like siblings, even though there were fifteen years between us in age, and I only saw him a few times a year.
Coltin is okay for now…
My lunch soured in my stomach. How long would he resist? How many were struggling?
It was time to suck it up and do my part, so I made my way toward the vacuum-sealed lab attachment at the back of the Endeavor.
Feeling powerless was hard for me. Hard for anyone, I supposed. Right now, I had to wait for Fiona to work her science and for Shade to finish fixing the ship. Kids were scared and suffering, but there was no way to rush to their aid like I wanted to. The only thing I could do for now was get Fiona more blood.
I had to wonder why the Dark Watch hadn’t set up a quarantine yet. Usually, the military was quick with things like that. For all his faults, I didn’t think the Overseer actually wanted disease to spread like wildfire throughout the galaxy. We had to hurry, because before too long, they were sure to cut the orphanage off.
Needles and blood bags.
A chill skittered down my arms, ending in a shudder. I rolled my shoulders and shook out my neck.
With lunch, I hadn’t only been delaying. I’d needed to eat, drink, and digest a bit before doing this, or else five bags of blood could knock me out. Hell, they’d probably knock me out anyway. Jax sometimes donated blood when we were in the Fold, since that was where so many of our injured ended up, and it was usually just one bag at a time, with donations once per week, even for a big, strong, healthy man like him.
I knew I was different. I could give more. Even as a kid, it had usually taken three or four bags before I’d felt my head spinning out of control.