The medic opened the door, and standing outside was Fwan, one of the Resource directors.
Fwan, at least as old as Phares’s paternal, entered, and the room suddenly seem darker, like he swallowed the light around him. His expression was stony and hard. Phares was sure he’d seen asteroid ore that looked more loving and compassionate than Fwan.
“Phares, I hear we have an issue.”
“I don’t know how you can help,” Phares said.
“I have a suggestion,” Fwan said.
Phares’s head pulsed, and he glanced at the medic. “Can’t you do something for me?” He rubbed his temples. “I can’t think straight.”
The medic gave him a shot, and almost instantly the edge backed down.
Phares sighed. “Now why didn’t you give me that before? I’ll be fine now.”
“The effects of the injection only last a few days. It’s only a temporary easing of the natural effect. And it will get worse before it gets better.”
“But it will get better.”
“If you mate.”
Phares groaned. “Sure, let me run down to the lounge and just grab a female.”
“How about you head over to Disguised Serenity?” Fwan said.
“The space station? Why?” Though it wasn’t a bad idea, there were a lot more humanoids there, and surely there would be a variety.
Someone would be able to soothe the Fever.
Surely. At least until the next onslaught. Unfortunately, until he found a permanent mate, he would have to attempt to find temporary partners to ease the Fever.
The Fever, however, was merciless, and would continue reoccurring until a permanent mate was found.
“Have you heard of the Intergalactic Dating Agency?” Fwan asked.
Phares blinked. “The matchmakers?”
“I have never seen them fail.”
Phares sighed. Yet another thing his parental would mock him for, surely.
“What if the mate isn’t interested in this life?”
Fwan glanced at the medic, and then back. “You would have to convince her.”
2
“Here you go,” Jana said, smiling as she handed the next in line the main course of his meal.
“Thank you, ma’am,” the man mumbled, his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and his hair scraggly and sticking out at awkward angles.
Jana shifted, and there was the next plate. She scooped the pasta dish, grabbed a piece of bread, and handed it to the next person in line.
A steady flow of people passed through St. Anthony’s that night. The summer heat had done its worst to everyone. So many were tired and everyone’s skin had been baked by the hot sun.
“Don’t forget your water,” Jana said to a man who almost passed up his beverage. “Gotta stay hydrated!”
“Sure.” He picked up the glass and added it to his tray.
