He drew a small scanner out of his pocket and held it out in front of her. “Something of some urgency, too, judging by your biometric readings.” Setting the bag down, he stared at her expectantly.
She glanced at the other man, who watched her with unconcealed curiosity. Leaning toward Adaos, she asked in a low voice, “Is there somewhere private we could talk?”
His eyebrows rose. Then he looked at the other man. “Leave us, please.”
The man left without hesitation, closing the door behind him.
“CC,” Adaos said.
“Yes, Chief Medical Officer Adaos.”
“We are not to be disturbed unless someone requires immediate aid.”
“Yes, Chief Medical Officer Adaos.”
He frowned at Eliana. “Do you require a transfusion?”
“No.” She shifted her weight, a little embarrassed now. How exactly should she broach this with him? “Actually, yes. I could use a transfusion.” It had been a few days. And this would give her a minute to figure out what to say.
He motioned for her to lie on a nearby exam table. “Transfuse Eliana with Segonian blood as prescribed in her file.”
“Beginning transfusion,” the computer said in her gentle female voice.
Unease momentarily distracted Eliana. She really did hate needles.
A robot arm descended from the ceiling. A grid pattern lit up the bend of her left arm as a cool spray coated her skin. Then the needle pricked her and blood began to flow into her veins.
Adaos studied her. “Do you wish me to hold your hand as Commander Dagon did?” Not an ounce of sarcasm or condescension laced his words, just a desire to ease her discomfort.
He was a good guy.
“No, thank you.”
He nodded. “What did you wish to discuss with me? Have you a physical ailment? I admit I expected to see you sooner after I heard you’ve been eating vestuna. I fear it may be too spicy for an Earthling’s digestive tract.”
She smiled. “I’m used to spicy food. That’s not it.”
“You have another complaint?” Brow furrowing, he picked up a nearby data tablet. “Lasaran doctors warned us that the Earth women we retrieved might experience psychological issues after suffering the trauma of the Gathendiens’ attack.”
“The ones like me who need blood transfusions won’t. We’re using to fighting and battle, blood and death. But the others might,” she conceded.
“So you’re contending with no psychological effects?”
She started to shrug but remembered in time that a needle was still stuck in her arm. “Just worry for my friends and the anxiety that brings.” And guilt, of course. Not just over what happened to Ganix. But because she felt like crap for making herself at home on this ship while her friends could be out there somewhere, alone and afraid in those pods. Or maybe crashing in those pods. Hell, she didn’t know if her immortal brethren had even made it into pods. The last time she’d seen them, they had been helping the Lasarans like her. They might not have had a Ganix nearby to get their asses into suits or into pods if they waited too long to do it themselves.
Not knowing their fate really ate at her. Sure, they could be in pods. Or they could be floating helplessly in space in a suit like her. Or they could be floating in space without suits like Ganix had. The peculiar virus that infected them could heal a hell of a lot of damage. It could even allow Immortal Guardians to slip into a state of hibernation as she had if their blood volume dipped too low or they lacked access to food or water for extended periods of time. But could it enable them to survive in the cold vacuum of space with no protection?
She didn’t think so.
“Eliana—”
“Nope. I didn’t come here to talk about that.”
The needle withdrew from her flesh. The mechanical arm retracted. The tiny puncture wound healed as she sat up and swiveled to dangle her legs over the edge of the bed.
Adaos took her arm and studied it. “Amazing. You heal as swiftly as a Lasaran.”
She pointed at him. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
His eyebrows rose. “It is?”
“Yes. You want to know more about me, right? You want to run tests, take samples, and study me?”
“Yes,” he responded eagerly.
“Can you do it confidentially and ensure that no one else will ever get their hands on the data? Because if the Gathendiens gained access to your research, it would be devastating, not just to my brethren but to my entire planet.” Immortal Guardians were the only ones keeping vampires in check. If the Gathendiens found a way to exterminate Immortal Guardians with another virus, humanity would be lost.
“I would take strict measures to ensure that no one other than myself could access the information.”
“Then I suggest we engage in a little quid pro quo.”
Again he frowned. “Quid pro quo?”
“Yes. You know—if you do something for me, then I’ll do this for you.”
His expression turned guarded. “What would you require me to do?”
“Tell me everything there is to know about Segonian social etiquette, especially with regard to courtship and mating rituals. I need to know what’s allowed and what isn’t.”
His brow smoothed out. His light green eyes sparkled with mirth as his lips twitched. “Would this need to learn about Segonian mating rituals pertain to your interactions with anyone in particular?”
“That depends. Do patients on this ship have doctor-patient confidentiality?”
“By that, are you asking if I am compelled as a medic to keep anything you share with me private?”
She nodded.
“Of course… as long as it doesn’t endanger the other occupants of this ship.”
“Good. Then yes,” she admitted, “it does pertain to someone in particular. I am totally smitten with Dagon and want to know what I can and can’t do about it. Earth’s rules are incredibly lax on that. Pretty much anything goes as long as it takes place between consenting adults, bonded or unbonded. But I just spent four months aboard a Lasaran ship with men who went out of their way to avoid touching me. I mean, if I so much as brushed their arms while passing them in the hallway, they looked at me as if I’d just goosed them.”
“What does goosed them mean?”
“Pinched their bottoms.”
He came damn close to guffawing over that. “Lasarans are quite strict when it comes to interactions between unbonded men and women,” he said as he brought his mirth under control. “They are an older society with significantly longer life spans, so—until their recent difficulties—they slowed their population growth by enacting stringent social protocols. But we Segonians only live an average of one hundred and fifty years, so our society is more lax with regard to regulating social interactions.”
“How lax? Because everyone seemed pretty shocked when I hugged Dagon on the bridge.”
He tucked his medic bag back in its place beneath the table. “I heard about that.” A small smile tilted his lips as he leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. Eliana hadn’t realized until then that he was quite handsome and—like Joral—was built like a warrior. “The cause of their shock was twofold. Most people are intimidated by Dagon.”