The Last Edenite

The Last Edenite

C R Simper

Copyright 2018, Chanda Simper

Smashwords Edition

Cover image copyright 2018, Mariah Simper, used by permission.

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by The Electric Scroll. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the publisher. For information contact The Electric Scroll, 745 N. Gilbert Rd. Ste 124 PMB 197, Gilbert, Arizona, 85234.

The characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and entirely in the imagination of the reader.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

The Last Edenite

About the Author

Books by C R Simper

Connect with me online

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the fans who asked about it often enough to keep me going.

One

A tense conversation infiltrated my dreams.

Could you hurry, Doctor? The bite of Lieutenant Eris Rhuick's impatience sounded sharp enough to leave marks. I don't want Tamas to know.

Unless I've misunderstood the nature of your relationship with the Captain, he is going to notice. Dr. Darragh Conally countered the lieutenant's impatience with cynical diplomacy. But Onnie doesn't need to see this.

Hearing Darragh speak my name drew me abruptly back into a firm reality: I was Onnie Nayir and what didn't I need to see?

As I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I met my own reflection. I'd chosen to sleep on a pull-out bed along the Medical Bay wall. My dad, Captain Tamas Nayir, slept on the bunk below, snoring softly so I knew he was still okay after his injury yesterday.

Focusing beyond my own image, the window revealed stars distorted by the faster-than-light speed of BJ – The Blackjack – our luxurious spacecraft Darragh had won from a transport captain in a game of chance.

I stealthily turned over. Lieutenant Rhuick sat on the patient bed at one end of the narrow, crescent-shaped Med-Bay, facing away from me. Brutal cuts crisscrossed the cragged milk-white skin of her back; her pinkish blood had dried in streaks beneath.

You won't be able to hide the scars? she asked.

I will do my best. Darragh wrinkled his brow, focused on treating the lieutenant's front side. His neon purple hair left over from yesterday's disguise, combined with the bruise on his chin, made him seem pale. However, Galladiran skin is rigid and prone to scarring, and rushing me won't help.

Eris sighed. If I was from Earth…?

No need to speculate. Darragh nearly fumbled the medical device in his hand so I wondered how many worst-case-scenario speculations had just gone through his head, but he'd decided to spare her the details. You simply aren't.

You have a talent for stating the obvious, she spat back. Couldn't you attempt a little consideration instead?

Okay, sure. Darragh shot her an icy glance. Let's pretend the genius teenager with no social skills can resolve the compatibility issues in your cross-cultural relationship.

Eris stiffened. That's not what I meant.

Isn't it?

No. You're not listening.

That is entirely possible. He grimaced without looking up. I am trained to focus on my job and ignore a patient's verbal hostility.

"I'm not being hostile," the lieutenant hissed.

Are you sure? he replied, flustered. "Eighty-eight percent of everything you've said to me since the day we met was, in fact, hostile."

She set her jaw. I hoped she might realize he was perfectly serious and trying to understand, and maybe she'd take it down a notch since they were both misunderstanding each other.

But no.

West was right about you from the start, she grumbled. You're an arrogant juvenile with authority issues.

I am well aware. Darragh dodged her personal attack by agreeing easily. I hoped he'd stop himself there, but no. And you are an arrogant Galladiran expatriate with authority issues. One of us is old enough to know better.

I winced. I'd been interpreting Darragh's idiosyncrasies for weeks and knew he usually made accidental insults, not direct ones. My instant assumption was he didn't feel well, or hadn't slept, or was under stress.

But Eris didn't know him as well. "Do you want me to punch you in the face again, is that it?"

If you need to hit me as part of your healing process, go right ahead, he challenged. Setting down his medical instrument, he squared off, awaiting her blow. With the headache I already have, I'd hardly notice.

To her credit, Lieutenant Rhuick's attitude softened. Doctor Conally, if you're in pain, why haven't you addressed it?

Because I have been too busy addressing other issues. Darragh looked towards me, or past me, at the fleeting stars beyond the window. And because pain can be a useful tool to keep me anchored in the present, rather than dwelling on past mistakes or analyzing future risks.

You use pain as a tool? Eris sounded impressed.

Today, yes. Darragh broke his gaze away from the window and picked up his medical instrument. Lieutenant, neither of us seems to be in a right state of mind for conversation. Could we maybe not talk anymore unless it's necessary?

I rejoiced that he'd finally recognized their discord and ended it, relieved he'd put the blame on both of them and not just himself.

I can agree to that. Eris looked around the room instead of watching Darragh work. I closed my eyes as she glanced over her shoulder, presumably to make sure my dad was still soundly asleep.

I kept my eyes closed for about a minute before I peeked and found her looking the other way. I wondered if the silence would last, and who would give in first.

How is Wyn? Eris asked suddenly.

The unconscious Galladiran lay on a wall-bed across the room. When I'd laid down to rest, Wyn had still been inside the surgical unit.

His condition is stable, Darragh replied, still cynical, but not directed at her this time. What they did to you is superficial. What they did to him would have been the slow, agonizing sort of fatal. Did you see what happened?

Once he saw they were splitting us up Wyn tried to reason with them. Eris' tone turned dark. If I'd had the chance I would have told him to shut up and stay with the children, but that monster ran him through.

Katapas, Darragh said quietly. That's what Topeka called him.

I don't care to know his name; he's a monster. But I suppose after what they did to Anje Marin, it could have been worse.

Worse, yeah, there's an understatement. Darragh's focus failed and he winced with struck-in-the-gut alarm. He'd hidden the recorded images of Anje Marin's death from the rest of us. What he'd seen had affected him deeply. It was a nightmare.

It's ironic, isn't it? Eris shook her head. "Marin sets out to punish Tamas for the death of his sister and causes the death of his own child – Are you crying?"

"No. Yes. Ugh. Darragh stepped back away from the bed to catch his breath, tears reflecting in the overhead light. He brought up both hands to wipe them away. Ignore me, please. I am clearly over-tired."

Eris somberly studied his reaction, instead of mocking it further. You saw her body?

Yes, Darragh whispered hoarsely, still battling against his own despair. "And then I had to tell Captain Nayir I'd found a deceased Galladiran female who I couldn't identify because she had been torn apart."

You couldn't tell she wasn't me? Eris sounded haunted. She hadn't seen my dad's reaction, but she could probably imagine it well enough.

They had taken her head. I think I know why now, after our little trip through Putaktik's less-than-enchanting victory corridor. Darragh shook off a little tremble of rage and returned to the bedside, still wiping tears. When Commander Murdock showed up, he knew it wasn't you.

How?

Slip-on shoes.

Oh, of course.

You should be grateful to her. Darragh resumed his work on the lieutenant's injuries. Her death is the reason the Shapida treated you with caution, if you can call this caution.

This happened later, she replied.

Do you–?

No, I don't want to talk about it, Eris interrupted sharply.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. The tension remained high.

Am I hurting you? Darragh broke the silence with a valid question as Lieutenant Rhuick brought a hand up to hide her face.

No, she replied, but her skin flushed pink with rising emotion.

Is there anything I'm not already doing that I can do for you?

No! Eris snapped at his attempted kindness. Stop talking. Your idea, remember?

Darragh's already precipitous patience became a sudden avalanche of anger. I gave you permission to punch me in the face again. Shall I hand you a knife?

Oh, don't get overdramatic on me, Eris spat, then remembered to check her volume. "You can see what happened, and I'm sure you can guess why. I don't have to tell you how I feel about it. You couldn't possibly understand."

I couldn't–? He brought a hand to his lower abdomen at the memory of pain. No, of course not, it's not the same. Never mind. He tried to resume his work, but his hands were shaking so he stepped back and turned away. I knew all about the horror he'd been through, and maybe it wasn't the same, but he'd been so young.

Eris hadn't missed it. So, you aren't just spouting off nonsense to prove you empathize?

"You do know what 'never mind' means?" Darragh snapped.

Yes, it means you're lying to me. Eris narrowed her gaze as Darragh touched a row of buttons on the computer console, several times in succession. Maybe it looked a little mental-breakdownish to her, but I recognized the tactic as a calming one. Something terrible happened to you.

You have no idea, Darragh scoffed darkly. He turned back to resume treating her wounds as abruptly as he'd left.

Tell me, then. She didn't touch him but indicated to his abdomen with her open palm. Tell me this one. I mean it. Tamas says I need to see past your arrogant act and try to understand you, so give me something to work with here.

Why should I? Darragh continued his work with forced focus. Just because you'd rather hear me talk about me than have to talk to me about you?

Yes. Eris touched the device to get his attention. Please.

Darragh's distressed countenance softened at her urgency. I wondered if he would tell her. He'd kept his past a secret from everyone until recently. And yet, I knew Darragh would do almost anything to help someone else in need, including placing their needs above his own. It only took a few moments.

The Kyvan attacked a transport ship I'd stowed away on. Everyone on board was either killed or. . .worse. He sucked in a breath and redirected. A Kyvan warrior stabbed me with a probe to find out if my DNA might be suitable for initiating Kyvan regeneration protocol.

I don't know what that means. Lieutenant Rhuick seemed to understand the gravity but not the details. I felt the same.

Kyvan don't reproduce – not the way most species do. Darragh lifted Lieutenant Rhuick's arm and rested it on his own shoulder to treat her side. They inject their regeneration protocol into their victims and, through a process even I have yet to completely understand, rewrite the victim's base DNA into Kyvan DNA and discard the rest.

I covered my mouth to hide my gasp. Darragh hadn't mentioned those horrific details before.

Obviously you weren't compatible, Eris said.

Oh, I'm sure I – Oh, my – He stopped working for a moment, covered his mouth with his hand. Something had struck him a mental blow, not necessarily in a bad way. I never considered what the combined result might have been. Thank you for that perspective shift. He paused, shook off the thought, and resumed. In any case, I killed the Kyvan before it had the chance to read the probe.

Good for you.

Yes, I suppose. He sounded unsure. That act remains one of the defining moments of my childhood, along with witnessing the murder of my best friend within the same ten-second time span.

You're right, I had no idea.

He glanced up from his work. Just because you can't see my scars doesn't mean I don't carry them with me constantly.

No one's going to miss seeing mine. Eris looked down. Her cheeks flushed again. Darragh said nothing, but continued to work on her injuries, and finally she began to talk. The alien who purchased me, the one who owned the bar, let's just say he wanted to get to know me better and I resisted. Due to our lack of communication, I have to assume this was his way of letting me know he didn't appreciate the dents I made in a couple of his body parts.

Good for you, Darragh repeated her praise with purpose.

I suppose, she echoed his prior response. Except I've already been playing catch-up with Tam's first wife. Monifa Nayir was so beautiful. And now look at me.

I hadn't expected such a heart-wrenching confession. My mother had been very beautiful, but Eris was beautiful too, in her own way.

Lieutenant. Darragh gently lowered her arm and set the healing instrument down. He looked at her, not at her injured body, but at her still-flushed face. May I call you Eris, just this once?

Yes, she replied, with forced patience.

"Eris, I can barely contain my anger that Putaktik did this to you, and I don't even like you."

Oh, thanks, she retorted.

He raised a hand to show he hadn't finished, yet he didn't speak for a moment. "But knowing if you hadn't stepped up back on Rift Watcher it could have been Onnie in that prison cell? Darragh faltered but he forced out the words. This assault you survived…it would have killed her."

I fought tears. That must have been the worst-case-scenario he had hidden from her earlier: if she was Earther, she'd be dead. If she hadn't challenged Marin to take her instead of my brother and me, I would be dead. Lieutenant Rhuick had saved my life!

And Darragh was falling apart over it.

Oh, Eris said, subdued. I see.

Darragh nodded, still visibly flushed. Captain Nayir will love you all the more for enduring this for his daughter's sake.

I could have hugged Darragh then and there. He'd done it. He'd finally said the right thing.

This time they stayed silent until Darragh had sealed the last of her injuries and set the instrument on the table beside her bed.

That's the best I can do for now.

Thank you. She pulled on her shirt and rose. Sorry to interrupt your work.

Oh, it is my pleasure to serve. Darragh nodded slightly. Even when it isn't.

Eris huffed. It was almost a laugh. Do you always have to be so unpleasant?

It tends to keep me out of lingering social situations, he replied, adding an exaggerated smirk.

A useful tool, then. Sounds familiar. Eris walked to the door but stopped before it opened and turned back. You know, Doctor, your relationship advice isn't as bad as you think.

She didn't wait for him to respond before she departed the room.

Two

Darragh sat down on the med-bay bed and then doubled over, threading his hands through his thick purple locks. His conversation with Eris had clearly taken an emotional toll. I heard him groan with annoyance, or possibly pain.

Worry over him filled my heart as he picked up his scanner and scanned himself. I took it as my cue. I rose and came up behind him.

What's the verdict?

Darragh inhaled sharply and dropped the scanner into his lap. "Onnie, oh, wow. I did not hear you coming."

Sorry. I picked up the scanner for him and set it aside, surprised to catch him quickly wipe away another tear. What's going on?

A headache, but not a migraine this time. Coming off the stimulant drink the Shapida offered me and I should have refused. He grimaced. Because I don't always think things through.

Is there anything I can do to help?

Not unless you suddenly develop the ability to read my mind faster than I can act on my own thoughts.

I raised an eyebrow. I meant about the headache.

Of course you did. He brought one hand up to his forehead and pointed past me with the other. Could you hand me my HU?

I retrieved his hypodermic unit and he administered a dose of medication to himself.

Better? I sat on the bed next to him.

Not entirely. He looked up at the ceiling, then tilted his head to one side, stretching. As I've mentioned before, if I dose myself high enough to be fully effective it borders on dangerous.

You could have gone to bed and slept it off.

Darragh shook his head. I can't sleep if I'm not tired enough. Besides, I've been busy.

Investigating the dismembered Kyvan head? I cringed slightly at the memory of the twisted, decomposing face. Did you find out any more about why its wiring is like yours, or what sickness it died of?

No, I haven't looked at it since we covered it. I haven't had time. He looked toward the door to the science lab. I'm going to have to do a more in-depth DNA analysis. I have to figure out if the wiring is Kyvan technology that Eden discovered and adopted, or if instead the Kyvan with their reproduction technique encountered an Edenite and the Kyvan in the science lab is the result, because that's now on the list of possibilities.

Oh. I couldn't find any useful words to say. I had just learned about the Kyvan's regeneration protocol when he'd told Eris, but this awful detail must have been what he'd meant by a perspective shift. Oh, Darragh.

I know, he croaked. Either option opens up so many questions without easy answers. It's overwhelming.

I'm sure it must be. I touched his shoulder to offer support.

But I can't start investigating just yet, he continued. I'm still trying to perfect a counter-agent for the numbing dart that hit your dad. I've got to get an antidote ready in sufficient quantities before we encounter the Shapida again. It takes priority.

Maybe it all needs to wait until you get some rest.

No. He shook his head. No. I'm fine. The second no convinced me otherwise.

Darragh, you already admitted you're over-tired. I referred to his earlier remark and regretted it as he stiffened.

How much did you overhear?

Does it matter? I hedged, knowing better.

Yes. He shot me his icy glare. "Because at least one of the things I said to her was not intended to be overheard."

Well, it's not like I could really help it. I replied. You're the ones who were arguing in a room full of people trying to sleep.

True. He sighed. Just promise me you won't tell her you know that the assault against her would have killed you. She doesn't need your gratitude, at least not yet. She needs her privacy, but most of all she needs to know she can trust me to keep her secrets, so she'll continue to come to me when she needs my help.

I promise I won't bring it up unless she does, I said, surprised at the depth of his concern for someone he didn't even like. So, you can just forget all about it.

"I can't."

It took a concerted effort not to roll my eyes at his finality. You could try.

No. His pale features flushed slightly. "I literally cannot forget. I remember every detail of anything I've ever seen, heard, or experienced whether I want to or not. He paused and narrowed his eyes as if scrutinizing his own memories. With injury or intoxication being the only notable exceptions."

I studied his face. What must it be like to remember everything in perfect detail? I could imagine the good memories would be welcomed and wonderful but the bad – and so much bad had happened in Darragh's world – to never have those memories fade even a little bit; wow.

I winced. Every terrible thing I've ever said to you–?

Still with me. He looked down to dodge my gaze. I'm sorry.

"No, how about: I'm sorry?"

I forgave you already, he said, to my gratitude.

But you'll never forget.

Well, no, but I haven't forgotten the kind things you've said to me, either. He met my gaze again and managed a playful smirk. Your statistics fall well within acceptable friendship range.

"My statistics, really?"

Sorry, yes. He must have caught the hint of instant wrath in my tone. I've told you I'm not super perceptive when it comes to how other people feel. I can remedy the failing only through the use of statistics.

So just because I say more good things to you than bad you know I'm still your friend?

With you, the good and the bad are somewhat even, actually, but it tells me you trust me enough to be honest; which I find to be an indicator of true friendship, believe it or not. He focused on my face, studying my features with a slight desperation. I'm not making this better, am I?

No. Not really. I gladly gave him grief since he'd acknowledged he deserved it. It sounds pretty pretentious from over here.

How do I fix this? he muttered. It's not like you and everyone else doesn't do the same thing in your own way: judging the level of friendship you feel for someone using some abstract measure or other, often rather petty ones. He shook his head. You may think my methods are pretentious, but at least they're consistent.

Oh. Wow. Once again, I had to set my own perspective aside. Math wasn't the worst way to judge friendship levels when I considered my overall high school experience and peers.

Darragh was doing the best he could to negotiate relationships with the social skill set he had. When I stopped judging him by my own standards, the efforts he made to understand the rest of us became all the more impressive.

I should have said something, because he winced with new distress.

I'm still making it worse, aren't I?

No, it helped. I sought one of his hands, but finding his fist tightly clenched, I could only set my hand over it. I hadn't seen this level of anxiety in him for a while, not since I'd told him Commander Murdock had figured out he'd lied about his past. I understand now and you're not wrong. I'm sorry I judged. Total friendship fail. Can you forgive me?

Yes, of course. He drew in a breath, and I held mine. Onnie, as a friend, I have failed you, betrayed you, and very nearly lost you. Most days I'm not even sure why you still put up with me.

Did he want me to tell him? I had a running list. Or maybe I should explain it in his own words: his statistics fell within acceptable friendship range.

As I considered my answer, a shiver went through him. I wondered where his thoughts had gone, past or future. Before I could ask he reached up, as if to pluck something from my hair near the clip where I kept the front half of my long, black braids pulled back in a swoop, but stopped before he touched me.

You can touch the braids to count them. I don't mind. I'd seen him use counting as a way to de-stress.

He made no response, not even a blink. He appeared to be taking it to a bit of an extreme this time.

Darragh? I half-sang. Where are you? I caught his outreached hand, and it legitimately startled him. He looked at me like maybe he didn't know me, which reminded me of the time I'd put my hands over his eyes and he'd tackled me for it. Hey, whoa, you're okay.

Then why are you staring at me? he asked, with awareness. He looked at our hands. What happened?

You zoned out. Ten seconds at least. I tried to read his pale features. You're exhausted, aren't you?

Yes, that has to be it. He drew both of our hands to his chest in his Cairistionan way of greeting and/or parting only a little slower than usual. I should go get some rest.

He'd said exactly what I wanted to hear, but he didn't move. He didn't let go of my hand, either.

If you don't want to be alone, lay down on one of the beds here.

I prefer– he stopped himself, and with a thoughtful tilt of his head, reconsidered. You know, staying right here is not the worst plan.

I would have teased him by asking what was the worst plan if I didn't already know he'd take it seriously.

The med-bay door opened abruptly, and Commander Murdock filled the doorway. His clothes and hair were disheveled; his face still bore a reddish spot where he'd leaned against the console on the bridge, sleeping for the past several hours. The last thing he would remember was when we were still back at the Shapida platform, since Emory had dosed him with something in order to sneak off the ship.

Seeing us, with Darragh still holding my hand, he raised one eyebrow. Sorry to interrupt, but–

Commander, you're awake. Darragh let go of my hand, took one step away from the bed, and stumbled. I couldn't tell if he'd kicked the edge of the bed or tripped over his own two feet, but only Commander Murdock's swift reflexes kept Darragh from falling flat on his face. Oh, sorry, Darragh muttered as he rose with the commander's help. Are you feeling all right?

"Are you? Murdock kept a hand on Darragh's back until Darragh had fully righted himself. Why do you look like you were on the losing end of a fist fight?"

Because I was. Darragh shrugged. Lieutenant Rhuick's right hook.

Saw that coming a month ago, Murdock scoffed and then looked around the room.

You must have questions, Darragh said.

Yes, but they have to wait, the commander replied. There's an alarm going off on the bridge.

Right, BJ would have turned it off in here with patients present. Darragh took a quick glance at the monitor assessing Wyn's vitals and then the one next to my dad. Okay, let's get right on it.

Darragh, I protested.

No rest for the weary just yet. He smiled apologetically at me and followed Commander Murdock out the door.

I caught up as we entered the bridge.

For a minute there I thought I woke up on a ghost ship headed to nowhere. Commander Murdock took a seat in the co-pilot's chair, giving him easy access to the control console and view-screen that dominated the narrow room, while Darragh sat down in the Captain's chair beside it and set a hand on the console. I could have chosen one of the four other seats that lined the walls of the bridge, but instead I just stood behind the both of them. What exactly happened? Is the Captain badly injured?

He got hit in the butt by a Shapidan dart tipped with a numbing agent, Darragh replied without looking up from the information popping up on his console monitor with unreadable-to-me speed.

Commander Murdock suppressed a grin. A numbing dart. In the butt.

Darragh nodded. It could have been critical had it hit closer to vital organs, but as is, it's only minor. No doubt you and I will laugh about it tomorrow. It will probably take him a few days.

I'm sure, the commander said. Obviously you got everyone out okay – everyone who'd been left there, I mean.

Yes, I carried the captain. Emory and Onnie laid ground fire to cover us on the way across, and I covered their escape afterward, Darragh replied. I frowned at the reminder. He had almost decided to stay behind.

Commander Murdock huffed. I was supposed to be your backup, not Emory. I can't explain what happened. I don't think I would have just fallen asleep.

You didn't. Darragh opened a ship schematic on his monitor.

Commander Murdock waited, but only for a few seconds. I didn't? What does that mean, exactly?

You're going to want to have a talk with Emory about it.

Why Emory? Murdock closely watched Darragh's movements at the helm.

Ask me later. Shutting down the FTL engine, Darragh warned. I felt the slightly nauseating sensation of our shift in momentum. I have some repairs to make.

What's wrong? I asked.

A small engine coolant leak. Darragh rose. I'll take care of it.

Commander Murdock also rose. And I'll help.

What do you know about FTL engines? Darragh asked, not condescendingly.

Not much, but I'm always willing to learn.

Me, too! Learning about how an FTL engine worked was right up my interest alley and I didn't want to get left behind. Future chief engineer in the making, here.