Page 205 of Seven Oars
Throwing her head back, she glimpsed Fincros in the capsule’s opening. His sightless eyes were opaque as the hatch rose and closed.
She screamed and screamed, fighting Ren with Father Zha-Ikkel’s putrid leg even as he force-fed her his energy.
The capsule began to lift.
“Don’t shoot!” Gro cried to someone on the sidelines.“There’s another person in there!”
“That wasn’t Phex.” Ren finally wrestled the leg away from her.“What happened, Rose? Who is he?”
He’s not Phex. He’s not Phex.
All she could manage was a keening cry.
The capsule popped through the gray bubble of Priss’fake atmosphere and vanished from sight.
“Hush, sis. We’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re home.”
But she wasn’t.
Chapter 29
Two years later
In the morning, Rosamma met with her doctor to pick up a fresh supply of medication. The doctor was pleased with how well the injections worked for her.
“It’s a simple immunotherapy,” he said,“but we wouldn’t want to experiment with overdosing.”
“No, of course not. I only use the dose you recommended.”
“You are my model patient,” he praised her strict adherence to the prescription.
“And Ren?” she asked, teasing.
“He is my second best.”
They laughed.
“Are you doing okay with giving yourself shots?” he asked.
“Yes, doing well. Every first of the month. It’s only a small bother.”
It was amazing how well the shots worked for her. On Meeus, she and Ren had been all but doomed, unaware of the advances in intra-species medicine. Still nascent, the treatment had proven to be groundbreaking for Rosamma.
Ren had been the first to get the life-saving shots, but then, Ren had always fared better. His improvements weren’t as dramatic.
Aside from a small weight gain, Rosamma’s appearance remained the same, but her energy levels had improved tenfold. The headaches, the vertigo, the gnawing in her stomach—all gone. And with them, gone was the constant, nagging fear of dying and leaving Ren without an energy source.
She felt like a new person.For the first time, she felt free.
On her way from the clinic, she stopped by the post office to retrieve the translation materials she’d been expecting.
The place was empty except for a blob of an undistinguishable alien that talked to itself in a language unknown to Rosamma. The locals called it Bro, since no one knew its real name. It didn’t speak or understand any known languages, displayed no gender characteristics, and never left the post office.
Upon seeing her, Bro glided behind the partition and returned with a neatly wrapped package. How it knew who she was, or what had arrived for her, was a perpetual enigma.
Bro knew that about every Priss resident. It was their mailman.
Priss was full of little idiosyncrasies like that, and Rosamma rather liked it.
