Page 3 of Alien Healer's Touch

"It's my responsibility," I answered, willing the tingling in my markings to subside. "I need to bring the fungi and fever-reducer preparations you showed me yesterday. Understand their precise properties."

"Those preparations were not meant for human physiology," he cautioned. "The dosage would need adjustment."

"Which is why I need to study them first. Can you prepare samples I can take with me?"

His golden eyes studied me. "I will accompany you."

"That's impossible, Kavan," I replied instantly. "Hammond barely tolerates my presence because of my medical skills. He sees me as 'gone native' already." I gestured vaguely at my markings. "Showing up with a Nyxari healer, no matter how knowledgeable, would push him over the edge. He might refuse treatment altogether."

"You speak of a pathogen unknown to either of our peoples," Kavan countered. His voice carried the formal tone typical of Nyxari, but with a quiet intensity that left no room for argument. "My knowledge of Arenix flora might prove essential."

"Your knowledge is essential," I agreed quickly. "But not your presence. Not yet. Hammond is volatile. We can't risk provoking him when lives are at stake." My gaze met his, pleading for understanding. "Kavan, the best way you can help now is by preparing what I might need. Let me gather more information, and then your expertise becomes crucial."

His expression didn’t change, but something in the air shifted—like I’d just shut a door he hadn’t realized he was waiting to walk through. I hated how that affected me, how aware I was of him choosing to stay behind even when everything in me felt better when he was near.

He remained silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable, though the subtle tension in his shoulders betrayed his reluctance. Finally, he gave a single, sharp nod. "Very well. I will prepare the samples you require." The golden patterns beneath his skin flared briefly as he inclined his head. In response, my silver markings pulsed with a warmth that traveled up my arms. This connection, this resonance, still disturbed me.

"Thank you," I said, relief washing over me. "I'll meet you back here once I've gathered my own equipment."

He turned toward his healing chamber without another word. I faced Phillips. "Tell Hammond I'm coming to help, but I make no promises about staying once the crisis is contained."

Phillips nodded, relief evident in his posture. "Thank you, Dr. Carter."

As he hurried away, Lazrin approached, his expression grave. "The storm comes earlier this cycle. The warning tremors already disturb the deep caverns."

"All the more reason to resolve this quickly." I checked my pack once more. "It's a long walk to Hammond's compound, and I need to move fast."

Lazrin nodded. "Swift travel may prove essential if the illness spreads as rapidly as the human claims. Be careful, Selene."

I nodded my thanks and headed toward my quarters to pack additional supplies. My mind raced through possible diagnoses—hemorrhagic fever, toxic exposure, parasitic infection? Without samples or direct observation, speculation was pointless. The silver markings on my arms caught the sunlight as I moved, their pattern distinct yet somehow complementary to the golden lifelines I'd observed on the Nyxari. Particularly Kavan's. Since the crash, I'd worked alongside him daily, learning the healing practices of his people while sharing my own medical knowledge. His willingness to exchange information contrasted sharply with the other Nyxari, who guarded their traditional knowledge jealously. That openness had fostered a professional respect between us that I valued deeply. But these physical responses—the way my markings reacted to his presence—hinted at something beyond professional collaboration. Something I wasn't prepared to acknowledge, let alone explore.

I reached my quarters and quickly gathered essential supplies—my diagnostic scanner (with precious little battery life remaining), basic surgical tools, and the medicinal compounds I'd created by combining Earth pharmacology with Nyxari healing traditions. A hybrid approach for a hybrid healer. The thought stopped me short. When had I started thinking of myself that way?

Returning to the central clearing, I found Kavan waiting with several sealed pouches. Lazrin stood nearby.

"The preparations you requested," Kavan said, handing me the pouches. His fingers deliberately avoided touching mine. "Labeled with contents and properties."

"Thank you," I said, securing them in my pack. "I'll return as soon as I have actionable data."

He inclined his head, his golden eyes conveying concern he didn't voice. "Be careful, Selene."

"Always." I adjusted my pack, ready for the long walk. "Wish me luck."

Lazrin gave a solemn nod. "Ancestors guide your path."

With a final nod to them both, I turned and headed out of the settlement on foot, toward the unknown crisis—and Commander Hammond—alone.

KAVAN

Iwatched her walk away, her silhouette small against the vast sky of Arenix, heading toward danger she couldn't fully comprehend. Selene Carter. The human healer whose presence resonated with my lifelines in ways that defied generations of Nyxari tradition. She had refused my escort, refused my protection, determined to face the outbreak in her people's settlement alone. Stubborn. Reckless. Courageous.

And unsettlingly fragile beneath that human resolve.

The ache wasn’t just protective—it was personal, deeper than duty. I didn’t just want her safe; I wanted her to know she didn’t have to walk into danger alone anymore.

My hands clenched,the stone pestle I still held nearly cracking under the pressure. I should respect her choice. She was not Nyxari; our ways were not hers. Yet the bond, nascent though it was, pulsed beneath my skin—a silent, insistent demand to follow, to protect. The healer in me worried about the unknown pathogen described by the human messenger, Phillips. The warrior I had suppressed for years stirred with the need to guard her against Hammond, the human leader whose paranoia was a palpable threat.

Returning to the familiar quiet of my healing chamber, I sought focus in my work, though my thoughts remained on the path Selene now walked alone. My hands resumed crushing the shimmering blue pora flower, preparing the medicines she might need upon her return—or that I might need, should I follow. My hands moved with practiced efficiency while my mind calculated which remedies would combat the symptoms Phillips had described. Fever reduction, blood purification, respiratory support. The illness sounded aggressive, virulent.

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