Page 30 of Alien King Crashes the Wedding

“They’re not dead, but…” Dagan broke off, unable to continue.

His response gave her little comfort. “Take me to them. All of them. Right now.” Sasha’s voice rose until it broke as she slid off of Dagan and pulled the sheet tighter around her like a sarong, tears flowing down her cheeks.

Dagan nodded and stood grimly to dress. When he was finished, he knelt down and tapped the corner of the sheet she had wrapped around herself, murmuring in Caldorian. The gray sheet subtly transformed into a formal evening gown of shimmering silver.

“We go to see the sick and dying,” he said quietly in explanation. “A visit from the new queen is a high honor. Perhaps they will fight just a little harder to live.”

Sasha nodded and smoothed a hand down the evening gown, then closed her eyes, already puffy from crying. She combed her fingers through her tangled hair and shifted from foot to foot. “Please. No more. Let’s go now. I need to see them for myself.”

“I understand, little one, but they have held on for days. A few minutes more won’t make a difference. Just one more detail.” Dagan disappeared down the hallway, only to return moments later with a glittering crown. “I had hoped to do this under better circumstances,” he said as he carefully positioned the crown on her head. “Close your eyes and imagine the way you would like your hair to look. The tech imbedded in all of your crowns can style your hair.”

Sasha glanced down at her dress. It was simple yet elegant. She closed her eyes and thought,Up. Simple. Elegant.Like my dress. She gasped as every tangle smoothed and her long, heavy tresses began twisting and turning, rapidly weaving themselves into a heavy chignon at the base of her neck, anchoring her crown in place. Had she been in the mood to look, she would have been shocked at how beautiful she appeared, how regal and stunning with her hair pulled back and the markings on her forehead sparkling with an inner fire unmatched even by the magnificent crown. Lumerian crystals sparkled on her hands and arms with every movement. As it was, she cared only about reaching the sick bay as quickly as possible. She swallowed, unable to speak past the constriction in her throat.

Finally, Dagan grimly led her through the door, every muscle tense, his expression intentionally blank. They walked silently down the hall toward the room transporter. They stepped in, hand in hand. “Medical,” he ordered. The doors closed with a gentle glide and she squeezed Dagan’s hand for support and comfort as they were transported directly to the medical area.

The doors opened and Sasha was immediately assaulted with the stench of death and decay. She nearly retched and had to turn her face into Dagan’s shoulder for a moment until her stomach settled and her ears adjusted to the sounds of suffering coming from every direction.

They stepped through the doors into the dimly lit medical area. Makeshift cots and medical chairs lined the corridors as they passed room after room, most occupied by injured warriors. A few held doctors and other caregivers who had passed out from exhaustion. It looked like a hospital after a natural disaster, with people rushing from one emergency to the next. Their look of defeat told the real story. Those who could be saved had already healed and gone home. For those who remained, all hope was lost.

On and on they walked. Sasha looked into every room, every pain ravaged face, her heart breaking a little more each time. At last, as they neared the end, she spotted Rachel in one of the few medical chairs lining the hallway. A wicked, jagged gash ran from her left shoulder down across her sternum and disappeared behind her right arm. As Sasha watched, it oozed a putrid slime. Rachel’s flesh near the wound was gangrenous, the dead tissue spreading outward in thick veins as if alive and reaching for Rachel’s vital organs. She was unmoving inside a gentle yellow energy field, floating a few inches above the chair. There were no tubes. No wires. Just a constant hum from the chair.

Rachel turned her head and opened pain-wracked eyes as Sasha ran forward. She stared blearily through the energy field at Sasha as a single tear ran from the corner of her eye.

“Sasha!” she whispered, reaching through the yellow haze for her friend’s hand.

Sasha would have collapsed to her knees but Dagan was behind her and held her upright. She wept and gently folded Rachel’s cold fingers into the warmth of her own. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Rachel! So sorry!”

Rachel gasped with the effort to talk, and smiled weakly, “You’re awake. I was so worried about you.”

“I’m awake, you crazy girl, so focus on getting better. That’s all that matters. I don’t understand why they don’t have the tech to heal you. All of you,” Sasha glanced around before looking back at her best friend.

“It doesn’t matter now,” gasped Rachel, her breath becoming more labored with the effort to speak. “Listen to me, I’ve been waiting,” she rasped, gripping Sasha’s hand tightly with the last of her strength.

Sasha leaned down through the yellow energy field, not wanting to miss a single whispered word. “Okay,” she sniffed.

“You have to help Ashlyn with the baby. We named him Lee, after my father,” she whispered, so faintly Sasha could barely hear it. “You have to help her. Promise me.” Her eyes drifted closed and she gasped for breath, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, fighting for air.

“No,” whispered Sasha, and as she watched her dearest friend taking her last breaths, her voice gained strength. “No!” As she straightened, her bracelets clinked against each other and vibrated. “Maju stones,” Sasha began clawing at her bracelets, ripping one, then another, from her wrists. “The microbes. You said they healed me.”

Dagan grabbed her hands to stop Sasha from removing any more. “Stop, little one, that’s dangerous,” he murmured, his heart breaking anew. “We’ve already tried everything. There is no healing from the blast of a DEW cannon.”

Sasha yanked her hand away and ripped another crystal bracelet from her wrist. She ripped another one and her eyes burned with raging fire. Hot tears sizzled down her face and evaporated almost instantly. Her crown slipped from her head and her long hair floated around them as if every hair was supercharged with electricity, and her markings glowed brilliantly. “You anchored me through ‘The Yielding’. You anchor me still. I can feel it. Please help me,” she pleaded.

Her eyes, wide open, were going blind from the energy pouring forth. She feverishly ripped the last of the crystals away and held out her hands in Rachel’s direction. “Help me, Dagan.”

Dagan said, as if the crush of guilt could no longer hold back the words, “They went down trying to get us to safety. The never saw it coming.”

“Then help me now,” she commanded, her voice strong and pure as energy thundered through her, filling her lungs, her spine, her hands and mouth. She reached out and Dagan placed her hands over the worst of Rachel’s wounds. She felt Rachel convulse and take a deep, cleansing breath.

Dagan pulled her hands away, “Her wound is closing and her color is returning to normal,” he said, his tone full of shock and wonder.

Sasha groped her way past Rachel’s bed, stumbling her way toward the medical chair next to Rachel’s, for she could see nothing but the swirling storm of opalescent fire whipping around her, anchored only by Dagan’s hands gripping her tightly as he led her toward a large warrior who lay still, his wounds so severe across his face he was unrecognizable.

“Cam,” he said, hope shining for the first time in his eyes as he looked down at his long-time friend.

Sasha touched Cam’s face with the tips of her fingers. He hissed and quieted. She turned her eyes sightlessly up to Dagan, “All of them. Take me to all of them. None will die here today,” she ordered, an unseen force carrying her voice throughout the ship.

One by one, Dagan led Sasha through the medical bay. She touched hands, shoulders, and foreheads, healing the broken, the dying. Soon those who were strong enough to leave their beds began helping those who were too weak to move, hoping for her touch and fearing it, for the healthy dared not get near the blazing storm of energy crackling in the air, which made even breathing near her difficult. Only Dagan could withstand the storm, the new markings on his arm glowing brightly with the same inner fire.

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