There it is, the selfish truth of it. I need him to survive out here in the space equivalent of bumfuck nowhere.
The claw arm lifts him into the air as if he weighs nothing and leaves me feeling like a weakling. But despite the work it took for me to get him here, there’s a sense of relief as he’s placed into a pod that I can only assume will help him.
I climb to standing and make my way over right as the lid snaps shut. The top is clear, and as I look down at him, Starcroft flits over and hovers near my head.
“Thank you for helping him,” he says softly.
I nod and watch as tiny robotic hands wielding needles fly out from the interior of the pod and stitch up the most heinous looking of his stab wounds. Some kind of orange light scans over his chest.
“Vitals critical, permission to take life-saving measures?” a voice asks over the intercom.
“Permission granted,” Starcoft responds.
“Ith he dying?” I whisper as he drifts into unconsciousness again. My palm presses against the glass between us, as if I push hard enough I can keep him here.
“Not if I have any say,” the floating droid harrumphs.
Another arm extends inside the pod, and to this one there’s attached a flat paddle that settles snugly against the middle of his chest.
“Stand clear of the medpod,” the intercom drones.
I’m not sure why I don’t remove my hand. Maybe I’m afraid if I do, he’ll slip away. Maybe I don’t deserve to touch him at all. Starcroft has topry my fingers from the glass, his grip firmer than necessary, and pushes me a few feet back as the paddle ignites with electric sparks.
There’s a moment of silence, and Mekkra is completely still. His body doesn’t move an inch, not even to breathe.
“Stand clear,” the intercom repeats.
This time as the static charges through him, his mouth gasps open, and he roars to life. Even before Mekkra opens his eyes, his fists are bashing at the lid—furious, but alive.
I rush forward.
“Thtay thtill, we’re trying to help you,” I command.
Like my voice pulls him from whatever violent edge he was teetering on, his eyes snap up to mine.
“You shouldn’t want to help me.” He coughs, and small splatters of dark blood spray from his mouth as he speaks. “You don’t belong anywhere near me.”
The words land heavier than the blood.
“Well, I do, now lie thtill!” There’s a sternness to my voice I haven’t heard in years. I didn’t dare stand up to the Deenz because I wanted to live, and I didn’t want to face their harsh repercussions. I don’t know when I decided Mekkra was worth the risk.
This whole situation is fucked, but Mekkra protected me from Quldo’s bots. He could have let me be taken…
Fuck, Quldo just tried to kidnap me. That slug-looking motherfucker sent his droids here?
Even though I’m sure Mekkra is in pain and trying his best to lie still, he sees the realization flash across my face.
“What is it?” He winces as something that looks burning hot cauterizes a stab wound on hisleg. I can smell burning flesh and fur—it makes my stomach twist.
“I know who jutht attacked uth, and I know why.”
He winces as he presses his arm up to open the pod.
“Tell me,” Mekkra says through gritted teeth. “Tell me who thought they could hurt you?” His eyes glance down at my even fatter-than-before lip, and something feral moves behind them. Not possessive. Protective. Like I’m something precious he doesn’t think he deserves.
“Lord Quldo,” I whisper.
The name tastes like rot.
