Page 62 of Ashes & Aether

I turn my head far enough to meet his burning eyes.

“I made the decision before you touched me tonight.” I push back against him deliberately. “Disable it.”

His neural filaments flare molten gold.

“The block is gone.”

Orien snarls, a feral sound of pure male triumph. He thrusts harder, his pace turning punishing, pushing me over the edge. I scream his name, my inner muscles clamping down on him in a violent, shuddering climax.

The contractions shatter his control. He drives into me one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and empties his scalding, fertile release deep inside me.

The sterile white lights of the science lab aboard the Sovereign hum overhead, a stark contrast to the dim amber glow of Orien’s bedchamber.

Cyrel drops a glass beaker into the incinerator chute. The blue liquid inside hisses as it vaporizes, another failed sequence joining a long list of dead ends. The chief science officer drags a hand through her curly red hair, her shoulders slumping.

“The viral mutation rate is staggering,” she mutters, pulling up a new holographic strand of DNA. “Every time I introduce your antibodies, the pathogen adapts. It builds localized resistance before neutralization can take hold.”

I unbutton my left cuff and roll up the sleeve.

“Try it again.” I extend my arm over the diagnostic table, offering more of my blood.

Lirael steps forward, her silver-flecked eyes full of exhausted gratitude. She picks up the extractor tool but doesn’t press it to my skin.

“Maggie, you have already given us six vials in three days. Your latest scan shows that your red-cell count is approaching the lower end of the acceptable range.”

“I require a functional treatment,” I counter, keeping my voice level. “I eat your synthesized iron supplements. I sleep. Take one final vial, Lirael.”

“One,” Orien agrees from the doorway. “Then no more until Lirael clears you.”

I glance toward him. “I don’t recall placing you in command of my circulatory system.”

“No, but you placed her in command of your medical care.” He inclines his head toward Lirael. “Even commanders follow their physicians’ orders.”

Lirael’s lips twitch.

“Fine,” I concede. “One.”

The chief medical officer presses the silver device to the crook of my elbow. The sharp pinch is familiar now. Before the match test, the sight of this machine sent me into a panic. I guarded my biology like a state secret. Now, with Orien leaning against the doorframe and watching me with hooded, possessive eyes, the fear is entirely gone.

My autonomy isn’t under threat.

The glass cylinder fills with dark red blood.

Dr. Vessa Korvann watches the extraction from the far corner of the lab. She doesn’t speak. She merely observes, her pale eyes tracking the vial as if it were the Holy Grail.

I ignore her entirely.

Lirael applies the dermal patch, and I roll my sleeve back down.

“We will crack the sequence,” Cyrel promises, taking the fresh vial. “It is only a matter of trial and error. We eliminate the wrong pathways until we find the one that works.”

Before I can offer another tactical suggestion regarding their testing parameters, the heavy lab doors slide open.

Caden steps into the room, his white hair disheveled, a data cube hovering above his palm. He locks eyes with Orien first, then shifts his gaze to me.

“Commander Elmsleigh,” Caden begins, dropping the casual banter he usually wields. “We just received a burst transmission from Earth. From the quartermaster you left in charge.”

My spine snaps straight. “Higgins.”