Page 7 of The Quoram Effect

“Believe me, Commander, the number of Damson couples residing on Quoram has more than halved in the past three decades, and it is continuing to do so. It seems the fantasy of living on Quoram is no longer as desirable as we’re all led to believe, which is concerning in itself. Without those Damson couples, the planet does not cater to our needs. We’ve already seen a major dip in the energy field Quoram emits. Have you forgotten how that very field protects us all?”

Shame slammed into my chest as I absorbed her vehement statement. Were the stats true? There was no law to force Damson couples to accept the magical bond. It was a choice—always had been. Why couples chose rejection, I didn’t know, especially when the populus craved to live on Quoram—or so we were told.

Perhaps those rejectees already had families and didn’t want to leave them behind, or they were in love with someone else. Or maybe their situation was similar to Torz’s and mine—we’d been too young, too confused, too scared to accept it. And once rejected, the bond’s magic dissipated.

But Zuliwasright. Fated Damson couples were crucial to our survival. Whilst living on the planet, they nurtured and grew our seeds for plantation in our food labs. They harvested the miracle healing substance known as Q, which was used in ninety percent of our medicines. And if Zuli’s stats were true, then food, medicine, and even our power supply would slowly diminish. Because somehow—and no scientist couldexplain the phenomenon—the planet and the Damsons were connected through an energy source. Damson couples lived longer, healthier lives, while the planet fed off them to maintain balance. In turn, it produced the magical field our civilisation depended upon—the energy to power our space stationsandkeep them safe from the catastrophes the void of space could throw at us.

“The number of rejected Damson couples over the past century has become a wavering problem,” Zuli continued. “There’s too much freedom—”

“We live in a democracy. Freedom is apparent.”

Zuli huffed a smile to Torz’s shrewd comment. “As you know all too well. Are you not one-half of a Damson couple who chose rejection?”

Tensing, I sensed Torz’s need to glance in my direction. Instead, he swallowed, his face remaining impassive. “That is neither here nor there. And you still haven’t told me how you’re proposing to solve this…issue.”

Zuli lifted her chin a little higher, peering down her nose at Torz with defiance. “Several scientists have a theory that Quoram can feed off not only the energy Damsons produce, but anyone who steps foot on the planet.” Amusement flashed across Zuli’s face as she took Torz in. “You look confused, Commander.”

An incredulous chuckle rumbled in Torz’s throat. “You’re talking about The Quoram Effect, yes? Nobody other than bonded Damsons can step foot on the planet without experiencing excruciating pain.”

“Exactly.” Zuli smiled, glancing at her companion again as if she was pleased with herself.

Torz’s smile faded as nausea twisted my insides with unease. What the hell was she planning?

“I intend to utilise those our society deems expendable,” she clarified. “We’ll feed Puran outcasts to the planet.”

Fear and outrage surged across the bond from Torz, his utter disgust and shock of what this influential official was suggesting colliding with my own. The need to hold my roiling stomach was unbearable. Instead, I closed my eyes, fighting the surge’s second wave as Zuli continued.

“As well as generating the energy we need to keep our civilisation alive, my plan eradicates the outcast society we’ve been forced to tolerate.”

Swallowing down the disdain burning my throat, I blinked down at my feet. Only three percent of the citizens of Pura Moon were criminals, locked away in the high-security prison. The rest were outcasted for their parent’s and forefather’s sins, living in the antiquated biodomes scattered across the dusty, barren terrain. Most were innocents, but because somewhere along their ancestry line lay a convict or two, they were deemed deplorable, beneath the rest of us. Dispensable.

The Orbital Governors purposely offered the Purans bare amenities, little food, restricted travel permits and trade routes. It was shocking how single-minded the governors and military chiefs were. Quoram had always been their focus, whilst Pura was all but neglected, if not forgotten. But now the governors—this one in particular—were looking extensively at the Puran civilisation with far more malintent than usual.

“So, you’re proposing to murder innocent Purans?” The bite in Torz’s voice hinted at his disapproval, but Zuli went on, her words gnawing and chipping away at my composure.

“Do you really think anyone who resides on Pura is innocent?”

“There are children down there!” Torz snarled.

I held my breath as Torz’s fear and anger barraged through me.

“Now, now, Commander, you sound like you have a soft spot for the outcasts.” Zuli’s words felt probing, almost incriminating.

Gods, does she know?

“But don’t fret,” she continued. “Children will not be utilised…at first.”

“At first?”

“Yes. We’ll start with the convicted felons festering in the prison facility—”

“So, youareintending on using them all? Every single civilian,” Torz spat before cursing under his breath, flicking his troubled gaze to me for the briefest moment. I caught the agony rising in his expression, a despair echoing across our bond as if begging me to stabilise him.

“The more bodies fed to Quoram, the sooner the energy field stabilises,” Zuli drawled. “And once there is enough power to sustain us for multiple decades, we can retake Pura and transform it into a thriving colony.”

“Why not build that colony now?”

My heart throbbed. He was losing composure.