Celestial Origins

8 〄 The Medic

Everything felt fuzzy: her legs, her fingers, her toes, her arms, her tail. Incoherent voices materialized as she regained consciousness. Slowly, she opened her eyes. White light greeted her eyes with a sliver of the ebony of space peeking out from a single window. Where was she?

"Easy, let me carry her," a male voice said. Icoburi, they were speaking in the interstellar tongue. Irene had studied the language back along with the native Wikev tongue. She had never seen much use for it as her species had little interest in traveling to other planets after the Great Purge. Now she felt grateful that her mother taught her.

Sadness washed over her. She may not see her again, either. Even though the feeling was intense, tears didn't come. Dehydrated, she imagined or perhaps too out of it. She didn't know which.

Two places on her body began tingling under her back and under her knees. She thought she felt something lifting her. Looking up, a being came into view although slightly distorted.

Elongated throats, longer than her own with draconic heads. Two rows of spikes ran down the neck of the one holding her. The ones at the back of the head were longer and curved upward. Those that followed trailed downwards, becoming smaller and smaller until they looked like nubs. They were silly looking things that round and tiny. Instead of laughing, Irene wheezed.

"I am unsure if that was a good noise or not," a warmer voice chimed in. A pleasant shiver ran through Irene's body at its sound. Her eyes adjusted to the distance, making out a second of the same species. At first, she presumed it was also a male, judging by his stature, being much taller than the other. The voice sounded masculine, but the thinner frame and softer eyes spoke otherwise.

Whatever the gender, their skin bore a deep amethyst hue paired with mesmerizing silver eyes. At the right angle, she swore they became reflective like a mirror. It fascinated the Wikev.

The being bore no horns or spikes, but two thin, short, and partially translucent pieces of skin that ran from the top of the back of their head down their neck. It tapered like the nubs of the other.

"Me either. But I am sure your Reformer will tend to her well," the ashen one commented. His hide bore a few lighter dots, most hard to see clearly. Be as out of it as she was, she still felt the awkwardness in the pause between the duo.

"Medic," silver-eyes corrected.

"Medic—a kilec?" ashes said with an unamused tone, "Please tell me you are joking."

She could just make out the other shaking his head.

"It is not a joke. My medic is skilled in treating many species, Celests included," silver-eyes continued, "After all, I have not died yet have I?"

Irene closed her eyes. The raising of voices made her ears ring. Celests, why was she with a pair of Celests? The last thing she remembered was being attacked on her home planet.

Ruling out the possibility they were the ones who had attacked her, she paged through other potential scenarios. A knot formed in her stomach, and her eyes shot open. Had her attacker sold her to them? Was she a slave?

She had to get out of here. She had to escape. She had to-

Windows stretched out from the hangar, revealing a hallway connected to the most exquisite building she had ever seen. With bated breath, she gaped at the scene that lay in front of her. The building stretched meters upon meters tall, dotted with egress windows. Silver trim lined the dome roof, and the same color formed a circular pattern, circumferencing the structure. Gems lit the area, casting a pale light onto the black marble walls.

Her sense of wonder diminished as she realized the surroundings. This was an interstellar station, and she was a Terran. Without a ship, Irene couldn't go anywhere. She opened her mouth to yell, but her tongue laid flat, and her voice didn't come.