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- Herausgeber: Pearl Tate
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Brock
My mating marks are different than all the others I’ve seen. Thicker, more intricate, and covering places on my body no one elses do, including around my neck like a collar.
Of course, I’ve always been different. Larger than most males, I’m the first of the Mayten Family Line to serve in the Space Fleet Program on the Discovery.
Becoming a medical doctor and meeting Atticus has literally been life saving. After being exposed to my sadistic future Promised on Quasar, there have many sleepless nights as I come to terms with what my future will hold.
Now, all that’s changed as I’m drawn to my mate. But am I too different from my Quasar brothers to be unconditionally accepted by an Earth female? Will she be able to trust me the way I need?
Brittney
When I land a customer service position almost immediately out of high school, I prove that I can handle anything thrown my way. It’s my mantra. I’ll do anything to keep from being a continual burden on my mother and society. After all, it’s only a matter of time before I’m in a wheelchair and most likely—trapped at home.
When I’m offered a chance to be healed, there really isn’t anything that could make me turn it down. Even finding out my new mate comes from the most volatile lineage in their society. After all, I can talk down the most irrational idiots. How different could this be?
What I don’t expect, is to enjoy it. But his possessiveness and dominating personality does strange things to me. And I like it…
PLEASE NOTE:
This SciFi Romance alien book contains Adult Language and Steamy Adult Bedroom Scenes including light bondage and consensual spanking. It is intended for 18+ Readers & Adults Only.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
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Brock's Beloved
The Quasar Lineage Book Ten
Pearl Tate
Copyright © 2019
Pearl Tate
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Book Cover Design by Alena Marie
Instagram Account: https://www.instagram.com/alenamarieartistry/
This book is dedicated to my kids who are so supportive and proud of me.
About Brock's Beloved
Brock
My mating marks are different than all the others I’ve seen. Thicker, more intricate, and covering places on my body no one elses do, including around my neck like a collar.
Of course, I’ve always been different. Larger than most males, I’m the first of the Mayten Family Line to serve in the Space Fleet Program on the Discovery.
Becoming a medical doctor and meeting Atticus has literally been life saving. After being exposed to my sadistic future Promised on Quasar, there have many sleepless nights as I come to terms with what my future will hold.
Now, all that’s changed as I’m drawn to my mate. But am I too different from my Quasar brothers to be unconditionally accepted by an Earth female? Will she be able to trust me the way I need?
Brittney
When I land a customer service position almost immediately out of high school, I prove that I can handle anything thrown my way. It’s my mantra. I’ll do anything to keep from being a continual burden on my mother and society. After all, it’s only a matter of time before I’m in a wheelchair and most likely—trapped at home.
When I’m offered a chance to be healed, there really isn’t anything that could make me turn it down. Even finding out my new mate comes from the most volatile lineage in their society. After all, I can talk down the most irrational idiots. How different could this be?
What I don’t expect, is to enjoy it. But his possessiveness and dominating personality does strange things to me. And I like it…
A steamy paranormal sci-fi alien romance for adults. Happy for now, always guaranteed.
Contents
Brock
ONE ANNUAL ROTATION AGO
“Brock!”
I know that voice. Not well, but it’s familiar.
“Brock!”
The swaying motion as my cage dangles makes my stomach pitch while I rock, suspended above the stone floor. Bile fills my mouth as my gaze takes in the other cages in a circle around the dim room. The details are far from clear, but I can see the glow of other eyes before I look down again, vertigo slamming me back to the present.
“Brock!”
This time, my name’s accompanied by pain as my head jerks to the right. Snapping my eyes open, I immediately remember where I am. The Discovery.
Thank the Sacred Mother I’m still on the Discovery.
Clean, pale walls surround me, and I let out a relieved breath as the strange gurgle I’m making dies in my throat. I look up at Atticus. His head tilts as he backs up slowly, a concerned and slightly fearful look on his face.
When the sleeping room exit bumps against his ass, he announces, “You’re dreaming again.”
Do I look like I need to be told that?
Well, it’s hard to say what I look like. These dreams—especially the memories—seem to dredge up all kinds of unwanted emotions and even physical reactions. In fact, I’m still nauseated.
Sitting up, I scrub my hands across my eyes, taking a moment to control my hair follicles, when I notice them twitching wildly around me. The family style they weave into is a habit but makes my stomach roll almost as much as my dream. It’s not a happy association.
I no longer want to have anything to do with my Ermada or family line. What once made me so proud and often inspired envy in others has been exposed for the shameful secret it is. A secret that’s wrapped up in fairy tales and mystery.
I remember being eager as a child when learning our family line. The documentation of our heritage is extensive according to our females, going back many thousands of years. Our schooling has always been separate from other lines and done at home. We’ve been told that’s because our curriculum is so customized.
Directing my attention back to Atticus, my new partner in the medical bay on board the spacecraft Discovery, I focus on his face. He doesn’t appear frightened any longer. Just wary.
I can’t help but wonder what I’ve been saying in my sleep that makes him decide to wake me rather than listen to it. “I’m sorry to have woken you—again.”
Atticus’s eyes drop respectfully as he turns to the door.
“Please…” My voice drifts off, but the tone has the desired effect. He pauses, his hand hovering over the sensor to open the door. “… what… what am I saying? In my sleep, I mean?”
Shaking his head, Atticus looks at me seriously. “You aren’t saying anything… you’re growling.”
Snorting slightly, I begin to laugh. Of all the things I’ve been thinking, I wasn’t expecting to hear that. But I honestly don’t know what I expected to hear either.
The last annual rotation of my life has been a whirlwind, with more changes than any other period I remember. After completing my initial medical schooling, I went immediately into the initiation period at my Ermada’s. During the continual kneeling and daily reflections, I continued my studies and petitioned my Ermada to enter the Space Fleet Program.
If I had thought that I wanted to leave the planet and enter the Space Fleet Program before I went to her home, I wanted to go thousands of times more once I entered those somber walls. And, when I say walls, I literally mean stone walls. A fortress.
What was once viewed as a source of pride was now recognized for exactly what it was—a prison.
“It wasn’t low growling.” Atticus shifts uncomfortably in front of me as I shift on the sleeping platform, throwing my legs over the side that’s too low for my height. Again, just another reminder of my Mayten line. We’re all big compared to other males.
When Atticus clears his throat slightly, I look back at him to see that he’s holding out a glass of water. “I… don’t mean to be presumptuous, but I noticed the last couple of nights that you went for a fresh glass of water after waking.”
“Thank you.” The surprise must show on my face because he moves toward me slowly before I reach out for it. He must have just retrieved it because the cool liquid is soothing to my parched throat.
“Growling?” When I raise my eyebrows in question, he just nods seriously.
Taking another long swig, I collect my thoughts and try to think of how to thank him. He saves me the trouble when he waves toward the sleeping platform next to me. “Can I sit?”
“Yes… yes, of course.”
I don’t know Atticus well, but he’s been nothing but kind over the last two rotations we’ve spent together. With the annual overlap, he’s been teaching me all the systems that apply to our position as medical officers on the Discovery.
The Discovery’s medical bay assignment minimums are two annual rotations. Most Space Fleet positions have an overlap, staggering the new assignments of the crew. Atticus has been on the Discovery for one Quasar annual rotation, so his teacher just left the Discovery, and I’ve taken his place to be taught by Atticus. Staggering the assignments makes a practical arrangement.
Atticus angles his body toward me as he settles onto the sleeping platform. “I don’t know you well, but I do want you to understand that I can keep your confidence. I won’t tell anyone about your…” His eyes widen as his sentence tapers off.
Chuckling, I almost spill the remaining water in my glass as I lean back onto my elbows to laugh at him.
Atticus is very serious compared to most of the relaxed males I’ve seen on the Discovery. His instructions are not only given verbally with demonstrations, he also has written notes to go with each individual process.
“Growling?” I finish his sentence while he nods.
My laughter dies as I consider where I am and the example I should be setting. I’m the first of the Mayten line to enter the Space Fleet Program on Quasar. I don’t know why exactly, but our family line is one of the last to serve in this capacity. I wasn’t sure if there was a reason for our lack of participation or if anyone had ever applied from the Mayten family line in the past.
As the promised to the Servale line, I’ve been isolated from any other educational programs. It’s not really shocking that no one before me has applied, but I’m convinced they didn’t know what they were missing.
So far, it’s been incredible.
Standing, Atticus begins to walk away as I stare at his back, confused. That’s it?
“Wait.”
He stops but doesn’t turn around. I’m sure I intimidate him exactly the same way our females do me. When someone is larger or higher ranking or more powerful—potentially able to hurt you at any point—it makes you naturally wary.
“I appreciate that.”
I assume this means he won’t be writing up the three times he’s woken me from nightmares since I arrived in his Discovery logs. It’s interesting since I rarely think about my Ermada during the day while working. Only while I sleep.
“You can share what they’re about and that may help.”
When my head jerks up in surprise, Atticus has turned around and continues by explaining. “Yes, according to studies, talking about your dreams and even writing them down and creating your own new ending may help. That hypothesis makes sense since we’re the ones directing the action.”
He taps his forehead lightly with an index finger. “Up here.”
“What study is this?”
I know I sound skeptical, but this is the most Atticus has said to me that isn’t specifically work-related or part of my orientation. He’s quiet and thoughtful, but not exactly friendly.
My neural implant that all Quasars have for short-range communication and file access has the sharing ping before he even locks eyes with me. “That one. There have been more, but that research was the largest group with the least biased results.”
Nodding my thanks, I take another sip of water before turning to him seriously. “They’re about my Ermada… my promised.”
Atticus’s eyes widen at my statement as I nod again that he heard me correctly.
His lips tighten before he nods back as he speaks. “I understand… and I don’t think you’re the only one. More than once, I’ve discussed hypothetical scenarios that create a lack of sleep and anxiety issues in our crew. In fact, it’s brave of you to be so honest.”
“Or stupid?” I can’t help asking.
If reported by him, there would be a brief investigation before I’d most likely be shuttled home—back to my Ermada and the pain that would bring.
He only nods again with a small smile. “I don’t believe that happens much. We all have a story or two, with everything to lose.”
His voice is almost a whisper as he stares at me seriously, and I can’t help wondering what experiences he’s had. There’s only one way to find out if they’re similar to mine.
I have to be honest.
My jaw tightens as I consider exposing my nightmare. “Confidentiality, then?”
Instead of agreeing, Atticus straightens and turns to look at the wall, his face dropping all pretense of animation as he speaks. “My Ermada, Kaleen, has had many males in her lifetime. It’s been over forty annual rotations since she’s carried a child, and the last three prospects didn’t survive. But still, she’s expected to try, and that means we’re expected to try… her males, I mean.”
Atticus’s voice drops as he leans forward, no longer staring straight ahead, but at his hands that he’s wringing in front of him.
Sitting up, I angle my body toward him so I can hear his words as he continues. “She’d already agreed that I could continue my studies aboard the Discovery. She’d already agreed, and yet she still brought me to her sleeping platform to consummate our bodies without the commitment ceremony. Isn’t that wrong?”
As his voice raises, his head swivels toward me, and I’m shocked to see he’s not just angry, but upset. My mouth drops open, unsure how to answer.
Wrong.
Of course, it’s wrong.
“Uh… yes.”
Sitting up straighter, I raise my voice, letting the anger I feel for him seep into it. “It’s wrong. I’m guessing she has many males she could have taken besides you?”
“Yes. Over thirty. I’m not even privy to the exact number she now has, due to her right to set them aside.”
Licking his lips, he swallows hard as he looks away. “None of them knew, either. She brought me in through a back doorway… it wasn’t until I was in the room that I realized it contained a sleeping platform. She commanded me to strip, walking around me as I did. I… I didn’t like her hands touching me.”
Abruptly, he stops, taking a step away before swinging back quickly. “Now… you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone anything. You know something that would be considered a betrayal to my Ermada if repeated. A lie propagated to bring her shame. I’d be punished… and depending on how she felt about me and my performance, I may be set aside myself… although, I might even like that.”
I can’t help the jaded laugh that slips from my lips, but when he glances at me quickly, I stand, grabbing his arm and tugging him back toward the sleeping platform. “Sit.”
Pushing him lightly, his smaller frame drops onto the surface while I throw my head back and take a deep breath. I’m not exactly sure where to start.
“You’ve heard of the Mayten line?” Might as well begin from the start.
Hearing the rustle as he shifts on the bed, I glance at him where he’s sitting stiffly. “Yes. One of the oldest and purest bred lines promised exclusively to the Servale females.”
At least Atticus is not worrying about himself any longer.
When I continue to stare at him, lost in thought, he adds, “Honestly, I wasn’t sure how many of you existed. I mean… you’re rarely seen. Raised in your own schools and all. How many of you are there?”
Waving my hand, I turn away as I answer, “Fifty-three spread between two Servale female lines. But they’re all in the same place—the same house—or prison, as I like to call it.”
Chugging down the water, I wave it between us. “Care to walk out with me so I can get more?”
Not waiting for an answer, I exit my sleeping room while still talking. “I’m one of the oldest ever to go to the Servale dwelling. It depends on each of us individually, but I’m promised to a younger Servale female. She may even be younger than me. Which is great… since I’ll be a head male right off and one of her first. I didn’t mind waiting. Instead, I filled my time with studies, which brought me here. I believe it’s just because of the unusual circumstances that I was able to petition my Ermada for this post. Since she’s still in training and my personal performance is exemplary, I’ve been allowed to join the Space Fleet Program.”
Stopping to swallow more of the cool water, I close my eyes as I lean back against the wall while Atticus gets himself some. “I knew something wasn’t right. The other males… well, it was my snooping that got me into trouble—”
“You were caught?” Atticus sounds aghast as I open my eyes and smile, straightening up before moving over to a small chair and sinking into it.
“No.”
Setting the glass down on the small table next to me, I watch as Atticus sits across from me with wide eyes.
“I wasn’t caught. If I was, I’m sure I wouldn’t be here now. But for the first few rotations, I was definitely worried. At least one of the other males there saw me. He was much older, and I can’t say I knew him. I’m not sure why he didn’t…”
“What did you see?”
When I realize I’ve drifted off, I blink slowly as I focus on Atticus. Asking again softly, his voice wavers, “What haunts your nightmares?”
Slumping into the chair, I speak about something that I haven’t even dared whisper to myself, let alone anyone else. “Isolation cages.”
The small metal cages are old-fashioned and barbaric. I wasn’t even aware they were still used, let alone with males our size, but that’s definitely what I saw.
Atticus swallows hard across from me. “Are you sure?”
It’s as if he has to confirm, and I can’t say I blame him for asking.
“Definitely.” Nodding, I explain what really worries me. “Not just one either. A room of them, all with males in them. But even worse than that, I left them there. I saw them… they may have seen me, and I left. Petrified. It’s so stupid… I’m so stupid.”
Atticus leans forward across from me, resting his elbows on his knees to drop his head into my line of vision, where I’ve drifted off into the past I still castigate myself about regularly. “I’m guessing you wouldn’t be here right now if you’d been caught. And what could you have done? Free them? You would’ve just ended up there with them. And you don’t know what they did to deserve that treatment, right?”
“No, no.” Spit flies from my mouth as I answer him vehemently. “That’s part of the problem. I don’t believe that was a punishment. I think that’s their regular arrangement… and I’ll never agree to that. Just seeing them there, I almost lost my temper. My vision brightened and tinted a weird lighter color. The room was dark, but I could see them clearly in their hanging cages around the room. I felt a pressure… inside…”
Grasping my head, I attempt to explain the strange pressure inside me at the time. “It was almost as if I could hear a voice or a shuffling inside of me. And it wasn’t me. I’m sure it wasn’t me, but it only lasted a moment, and then a voice from one of the cages told me to get the hell out while I still could… and I ran.”
“You did the right thing.” I look at Atticus as he attempts to make me feel better. “You and I both know it isn’t our place to step in—”
“What if that’s my fate? What if I’ll be put in a cage like that for the night?”
When he doesn’t reply, I state what I’m afraid to admit. “I don’t think I can live like that. There was something inside me that wanted to—”
Dropping my head into my hand, I sigh before whispering, “What if the reason my line is put in those cages is because of what I felt?”
When Atticus doesn’t respond, I glance up. His face has a strange expression, but also, I can also tell that he’s checking on something. After a breath, his expression focuses back on me. “I thought I’d seen this volume in a collection of information shared with me by Travek. Do you know to whom I’m referring?”
Nodding, I wait, wondering what his point is. “Well, after being on the Discovery for a few months, Backus referred me to Travek, the spacecraft’s procurer. He can get pretty much anything you request—within reason, of course. All I wanted was older medical information. You know, something new to review and see if I can learn modern information about our medical history.”
“He’s an asshole.” Atticus leans back and smooths his hair down lightly with his palms as his hair follicles dance around his head. “There’s no doubt about it, but he didn’t even charge me. Just dumped a whole bunch of old documents into private storage and gave me access. I’m only partially through them, filing them into categories, but one of them is called, ‘Servale Solitude for the Modern Curator’. I only glanced at it briefly, but the pages quoted a lot of old Sanctuary of the Order documents. None of it made any sense when I looked at it before. But now that I’ve met you and you mentioned… you know… what you’ve seen and how you feel, it might make more sense to you personally.”
For the first time in my life, I feel like someone is actually listening to me. Seeing me. Not just me as another body to feed or care for or use—as a sentient life form with concerns and feelings.
“Thank you,” I manage to get out just as the incoming link arrives in my mind. I’m shocked as I realize that he’s given me access to everything in the file, not just the one book.
When I look up at him, he shrugs. “I thought maybe you could help me sort through them. You can see how I’ve begun to categorize them not only by category but by creation dates. Some of them are old, and the one I’m referring to, is The Servale Solitude—it’s almost an unknown. Just scanned and very hard to read. Let me know if you have any questions, too. There are also a lot of other documents on studies of the mind and behavior which may help you.”
I don’t know what to say.
This is incredible. By just scanning the first few pages of the document “Servale Solitude for the Modern Curator”, I recognized designs that were woven into the furniture and tapestries around the Servale dwelling. Could this explain more about their line and how it ties in with my own?
Atticus taps me on the knee, pulling my attention back to him. “Well, I was hoping to have a friend. Someone to discuss these documents with?”
Smiling brightly for the first time since I left my Ermada’s home, some of the overwhelming pressure—the suffocation—has lessened.
“Yes. I’d like that, too.”
Brittney
PRESENT DAY
“How’s your pain tonight, Doris?”
The older woman walks out the door slowly in front of me, her limp more pronounced this evening. Now that we’re done with our shift in the customer service center, she’s having a hard time. It’s probably because she’s stiff after sitting in front of a computer and on the phone for the last eight hours.
I can relate.
Holding open the double storefront door, Doris smiles brightly. “Much better now that I’m out of there. Tonight was crazy with complaints.”
This evening, we had our phones slammed with complaints about bills following the first run of a new promotion. From what was not-so-nicely pointed out to me, the credit card company we work for definitely hid some fine print.
It’s hard to listen to and rectify everyone’s situation promptly. Since I’ve been out of high school for less than a year, working as a customer service rep has just become full-time work over the last six months. Nothing I learned in the public school system could’ve prepared me for this job.
Looking past Doris, I see dozens of cars still sitting in the parking lot. We’re on the second shift, starting at two in the afternoon, and I can’t help but wonder how long it will take to afford a vehicle to work here. But let’s face it—I’ll never be able to afford one. And I’d have to get a license first.
The more years that pass, the more difficult that’ll be with my handicap.
With Doris’s limp, I easily keep up—even with my cane. When we reach the bus stop, I perch on the edge of the bench, zipping up my jacket. Looking down the dark street, I notice that the bus we catch is less than a block away.
“Perfect timing, as usual.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been catching this one for a dozen years.”
Doris looks over as she leans back against the bench, stretching her legs out in front of us to keep the weight off her left hip. That’s the one that she needs surgery on. “And it’s Bob driving. That’s different.”
It is different. Bob’s usually off on Friday night, but it’s great for me as he pulls up perfectly, stopping the bus door directly in front of where we’re sitting on the bench. Taking the lead, I find a vacant seat for us both, since Doris hobbles on slowly and then stops to find out why Bob is filling in tonight.
As usual, it’s fairly quiet on the bus at ten-thirty on Friday night. There are two couples further back on the bus. The woman looks familiar as she pulls away from kissing her male partner, who’s in the seat next to her. It takes a moment, but recognition kicks in right as Doris settles into her seat by me, teasing quietly, “I saw you reading that Cole series novel on your break! Hasn’t your mother caught you with those yet?”
Scowling, I glare at her. “What? I’m nineteen years old. Most girls my age have been having sex for years, Doris.”
Throwing back her head, her salt-and-pepper curls jiggle as she laughs. “I know. You’re just so fun to tease, though. I haven’t read that series yet. Is it pretty good?”
Blushing, I look down at my bag that holds the next two books in the series I can’t wait to read. “Yes.”
When I say no more, Doris laughs again before pulling out a magazine and ignoring me.
That’s one thing about Doris. She doesn’t intentionally plan to embarrass me. Even if most nineteen-year-old women would be on one of their first dozen sexual partners at my age, that’s definitely not me.
Not with limb-girdle muscular dystrophy.
Diagnosed at twelve, it didn’t take long for the disease to weaken my muscles to where I could no longer walk without assistance. Although at first, it mostly just affected my hips, in the last couple of years my shoulder muscles have degraded to the point where it’s become harder to lift items… and use my cane.
Eventually, even crutches won’t be an option because my upper body muscles won’t be able to carry the weight. I’ll be resigned to a wheelchair for the rest of my life. That day is coming quickly.
Thank goodness all I do at work is sit.
During the last four months, after my training period ended, I’ve been told over and over how great I am at dealing with people. Even the super grumpy, sure to be unhappy no-matter-what callers have chilled for the most part by the time I’m done with them. Part of the reason I’ve strived to excel is because of my fear of losing the only job I’ve ever managed to get an interview at!
Well, who am I kidding? I’m sure that I’m a burden to their health insurance. They probably won’t fire me outright, though. They’ll just schedule me less and less until I’m forced to look for another job.
I don’t want to do that.
“Coming up, Brittney.”
It’s Bob’s voice that pulls me out of my dire thoughts and back to the present.
Yep, our apartment building is coming up at the next stop.
As the bus slows, I chirp a quick goodbye to Doris and Bob, thankful again that it’s Bob driving as he waits for me to get inside my building before pulling away. I don’t carry a lot of money on me, but nobody knows that.
As I wait for the elevator, I think about the young girls on the bus tonight. One of them was Tammy, the younger sister of one of my closest friends while growing up.
Marci was my best friend when we were in middle school. We had the same sixth-grade teacher, and her family lived one building over. Unlike me, she had a father. He wasn’t home much, since he was a truck driver, but he did come home.
Marci and I were very popular at twelve, poised to conquer high school together—until I was diagnosed with my irreversible genetic disease. It ruined everything.
My friendships, school, and inevitably, my life.
No one else is in the apartment hall as I leave the elevator on our floor and open the door to the two-bedroom apartment I share with my mother. She’s working her second job at a local bar not far away. It’s usually just weekends there because she waitresses full-time during the day at a local diner.
At thirty-seven, my mom’s still fit and beautiful, and I can’t help feeling like a burden. We both know I’m only going to get progressively weaker. I feel like I’m holding her back.
No—I know I’m holding her back.
I’ll inevitably turn into Doris—times ten! And not that I’d hate working in customer service for the rest of my life, but I just can’t imagine that I’ll be able to.
Of course, I plan to stick it out as long as I can, but that’s the same tunnel vision I have with my mother.
My mom deserves more.
I know she’s been dating periodically, but I also know she’s kept all of them at arm’s length since she doesn’t bring anyone home. I like to think it’s because she’s worried about my reaction, but maybe it has more to do with not scaring them away. I don’t really know.
Opening the pantry, I pull out a can of ravioli. My favorite.
Using the electric can opener, I dump the contents into a small pot and set it up to heat before limping into my room to change into my pajamas. It’s a relief, and when I’m done, I feel so much better.
Using my cane, I pull myself to my feet just as I hear a noise in the kitchen that sounds like the pot on the stove being turned off and taken off the burner. “Mom?”
Could she have come home early?
One step… two… “Mom?”
She still hasn’t answered, but I don’t hear anything else.
Suddenly, the bedroom is lit with a brilliant light from something right outside my fifth-story window. How’s that possible?
Almost instantly, I’m disoriented as the dazzling illumination surrounds me.
Physically, I can’t move, and just as I’m about to panic, a fuzzy, prickling sensation passes over me, calming me before everything goes dark.
Brock
I’ve felt uncomfortable all day. Nothing specific I can explain or clearly identify, though.
I’m not sick or hurting, but there’s definitely something making me feel like I need to keep moving. It’s hard to concentrate on the reading material Hannah has shared with Atticus and me. We’ve added everything Hannah gave us to our shared reading material.
During the last annual rotation, I’ve learned so much, not only from Atticus but also from the books we’ve been reading and discussing. It’s been liberating to have someone to talk freely with who also shares similar interests.
I try not to dwell too often on the book Atticus originally gave me, “Servale Solitude for the Modern Curator.” Usually, thoughts about the text sneak up on me while I’m about to fall asleep. Everything that I could understand was so dramatic—so old-fashioned.
That can’t apply to me now. If it does…
I hear Vekel in the medical bay. He’s our one full-time patient. Right now he’s talking in his sleep while Atticus changes the surrounding bedding.
I take the opportunity to focus on something else by creeping over silently to listen to him. I don’t want to miss a word.
Vekel’s been detoxing for quite a while now, and even though I do feel a little sorry for him, I feel even more sorry for Callim and Shelly.
Honestly, it appears Vekel made his choice knowingly. Not only did he seem to be aware of the drugs in his and Callim’s body that Hannah has now named “Gro-On”, but if he was a spy for the Council or some other group on the planet Quasar, then he knew what he was doing when he came on board the Discovery. It hasn’t been confirmed that he’s a spy, but what else could he be?
At this point, I plan to just be cautious since I’ll never know one way or the other, I’m sure.
“What’d he say?” I keep my voice pitched low as I quiz Atticus, who’s frozen in front of me, waiting like I am to see if Vekel says anything else.
“It’s wrong,” Atticus whispers back.
