So the infirmary proves to me that these people aren't from around here. It looks like something out of Star Trek. There are machines all around, and a cabinet sparsely filled with bottles of what I guess to be medicine. It looks like they've depleted a lot of their stock. I wonder if they can take earth drugs, or if there are too many differences. Not that I know what kind of differences there are, and I'm not sure I want to . . .
I sit on a padded chair that's been reclined back. Luric holds a short, glowing wand attached to a small box that's projecting a hologram of my skeleton and internal organs. It's neat in a disturbing way.
He moves the wand up and down my body, and a readout in his language appears in the hologram. "You're dehydrated and have a parasite in your gut. Probably, like you suspect, from the water you drank from."
I glare at him. "So you how do you know what I'm thinking? Are you like telepathic?"
"Not exactly." Luric taps the back of his neck. "We have technology that gives us a semblance of telepathy. It's an implant that reads brainwaves. That's actually how I know your language. It read your thought patterns and sends signals into mine on how to speak English."
That's so cool, and can't help but smile at him. "Um . . . would I be out of line asking for one of those implants?"
He laughs and opens the cabinet, reading the bottles one at a time. "Maybe you could have one if you stayed, but I don't think I can give you one and then let you go."
I pout at him. "I don't think the technology is worth my freedom."
"Thought so." He picks up a bottle of near-glowing, blue liquid and pulls a rather huge needle out of a drawer.
"Uh-uh. I think I'll take my chances with the parasite." I try to stand.
Luric puts his hand on my shoulder and pushes me back down. He didn't even push that hard, but I find I can't break free of his hold. "Hold still, Pen. If you do, you shouldn't even feel it."
I comply, but squeeze my eyes shut. I hate needles. So much. But before I can process what's happening, he lets go of me.
"All done."
I open one eye.
He puts the syringe in some kind of autoclave and turns it on, then faces me. "You should be better within a day."
"Are you sure your drugs will work on me?"
He shrugs. "I would assume so. Our physiology is almost identical."
"Almost?" I try to sit up, but am hit with a dizzy spell, the room spinning.
Luric grins. "I do not have two kidneys—I actually have three."
I don't know why, but I find that funny and a giggle escapes my throat.
He helps me up and he takes me to a room just down the cramped hall. I squint to see in here, and his features look defined in the shadow. More defined than I'd previously noticed.
The lights turn on and reveal a tiny room, a small cot against the far wall, beneath a porthole. Bubbles rise from somewhere, and fill the limited view. He helps me into the bed, and I lay on my back and stare at the gray ceiling. The mattress squishes and is surprisingly soft, and I sink into it.
"Are you hungry?" he asks.
I am, but I feel like I'll lose whatever I might get down and shake my head.
"Do you think you can keep down water?"
This reading my mind is getting old, not going to lie. "Maybe."
"I'll get you some." His footsteps fade away.
I close my eyes and think. I'm trapped in what I guess is a spaceship, and am being waited on hand and foot by an alien that knows what I'm thinking. I should be terrified. Why am I not terrified? Because Luric is charmer? I can't deny it: he's attractive in a strange way. But that isn't the whole story, I don't think. Maybe I'm just relieved I'm not still slowly dying on that island?
Luric comes back and I stop. I don't want him to hear my thoughts.
He rests on the edge of the bed and helps me to sit up, and then hands me a tall, square glass filled with water. It's the best tasting water I have ever had, probably because I'm so thirsty, and I gulp it down.
"Hey, not so fast. You want to drink it slowly." He takes the empty glass back, and his hand brushes mine.
It makes my chest flutter. Good grief. Am I really falling for a purple-haired alien? He's kind of cute, sure, but it'd never work. Besides, I don't want to spend the rest of my life down here.
A smirk pulls at his mouth. "You think I'm cute?"
I cover my mouth and glare. "Stay outta my head, would you? Thanks."
"I can try to, but no guarantees." He stands and turns to leave, but says over his shoulder: "I think you're cute, too—and that's not just because I don't get to see pretty young women too often—but you're right that it probably wouldn't work out."
He closes the door behind him and my stomach twists. Poor guy. Could it work out? I give my head a hard shake. Can't think like that. I've got to stay focused and get home. Somehow.
ns 15.158.61.51da2
