Chapter 12: Myeong & Roco

MYEONG

He nodded, and she let him go.

Minutes later, both Miktar and Drake appeared. Drake was holding an electronic clipboard, while Miktar was gripping a vial filled with blue liquid.

“I want to do it. I want to do it ~now~,” she said, frowning up at them. “He’s dying!”

“We agree,” Miktar said.

“That he’s…that he’s dying, or that you’ll let me…” She looked toward Roco’s capsule, her heart in her throat.

“He’s not dying—yet,” Drake told her.

“You’ll let me bond with him?”

Miktar held out the vial of blue liquid.

“What’s that?”

“Roco’s semen.”

“You mean someone…” She twisted her mouth. “~I~ would have done it.”

“It’s not what you think,” Drake said. “It’s an easy thing to source. We took it much like we would blood.”

Myeong took the vial, eyeing it uncertainly. “Why’s it blue?”

“It’s mixed with a sugar drink. Before you ingest it, you must be prepared…”

Myeong drank it down. It was sticky and tasted mostly of sugar. She smacked her lips.

Juan was staring at her. Alexis was staring at her. She suddenly realized that the whole room had quieted down.

Miktar and Drake were watching closely.

She gave back the empty vial, then looked down at her feet, her hair shielding her face, her cheeks flushed, unable to look at anyone. It felt too personal, too private.

Myeong swallowed again.

She waited.

Finally, she lifted her face. “Is something supposed to happen?”

She looked at Juan and Alexis but found no answer there. She looked toward Roco’s capsule. Half a dozen alien doctors were gathered around him, including Drake and Miktar.

“Has something happened?” she called. ~Please tell me something has happened.~

She hurried over. Juan went to grab her wrist, but she threw him off.

The Zibons made space for her as she looked down through the glass and onto Roco’s peaceful face. She winced as a muscle in her chest twisted.

Moments later, Roco’s peaceful face did the same. Myeong gasped.

“He’s moving!” someone cried out.

Myeong’s heart started to race. “Roco!”

“We’ve got theta waves,” someone spoke in a shocked whisper.

“His heart rate is increasing,” another murmured. “One hundred ten beats.”

Myeong pressed her fingers to the glass. “Come on, Roco. Wake up, ~please~. I don’t know… I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

Tears pricked behind her eyes. Another muscle in her chest twisted sharply.

Roco grimaced.

“One hundred twenty-five beats.”

“Alpha! We’ve got alpha waves!”

A Zibon shunted her to the side in his excitement.

“Hey!” Myeong squirmed her way back.

“Alpha waves remain.”

“Heart rate is stable.”

The energy in the room began to dissipate. She could feel the doubt accumulating like a cloud.

“No!” Myeong bashed her fists against the glass. “Come on, Roco, you coward! Wake up! Come back to ~me~!”

“Alpha waves stable.”

“Heart rate stable.”

He wasn’t moving, looking peaceful again. She turned and glared at Miktar. “Give me another vial,” she said.

He met her eyes, then muttered to the Zibon next to him.

Myeong turned back, panting, clawing her fingers into the metal like she could dig her way in. Her fingers were aching like her heart was aching.

It was too much. It was far too much. It was painful now. So much worse than before.

~Nothing will be able to separate us. Not even death—~she understood it now.~

She looked over at Juan, who was bowed over Clint’s capsule. Only then did it hit her how horrible Juan must be feeling. How truly lost.

So much was at stake. How was he even dealing with it? She’d be sick. She’d be ~dead~.

She turned back to Roco’s capsule. “Roco!” Then she burst into tears.

“Heart rate one hundred twenty-two and climbing!”

“Alpha waves stable!”

“One hundred thirty-five!”

“Open the capsule!” Myeong screamed. “Open it! Let me in!”

~Don’t cry.~

~I want to cry. I want to laugh and scream and shout.~

~Well, do it then. I won’t stop you.~

Roco was grimacing.

“We have movement!”

“Beta waves! We have beta waves!” Cheers erupted around the room.

“Open the capsule! Do it before we lose him!” Myeong screamed. She scrambled onto the capsule.

“Everyone clear!” came someone’s voice. “Ready security!”

“Opening capsule!”

Myeong stepped back as the metal dome of the capsule retracted. Without thinking, she climbed inside and over Roco.

Straddling his waist, she clawed at the goo covering his face. The goo was coming away, but not enough, stretching further across his mouth and eyes. Despair gripped her heart like a cold fist.

“Somebody help!”

“Here.”

Myeong turned. A Zibon was extending his arm. He was gripping a second vial.

Myeong snatched it from him and downed it in two gulps.

She took a breath. “I love you, Roco, forever.” Leaning over, she kissed him.

She could feel the slimy, cool membrane of the Wriling against her lips. She felt a rush of fear that it might take her again—but the fear didn’t last.

It didn’t matter. It was better than Roco dying. ~Anything~ was better than Roco dying.

Roco’s body shuddered. Myeong snapped back her lips at the feel of the goo moving.

Her heart lurched—it was sliding from Roco’s chest and face into a puddle by his head, coalescing back into its original form: grasping, stretching, fast!

Myeong ignored it. Roco was coughing and gagging. He sucked down a deep, wheezing breath, his large chest swelling between Myeong’s knees.

Then his eyes cracked open. His eyes! Yellow! How much she loved yellow!

“Roco!” she screamed, grabbing his shoulders.

There was commotion. There was chaos. There were shouting voices, followed by a deep, powerful rumble that made the capsule shake.

Myeong hardly noticed, gazing back into Roco’s eyes as he gazed into hers. He looked tired, deep lines around his eyes and mouth. His cheeks were drawn.

And there was a flush to his throat that made him look sick. Then he gave a weak smile, and Myeong laughed.

She grabbed his hand, sliding her fingers through his, but his eyes closed again.

“Roco?” She grabbed onto his shoulder and shook him. “Roco!”

She felt someone grab her arm, and she turned.

“It’s okay,” said Miktar. “He’s just tired. The Wriling is gone.”

Myeong blinked. The ~Wriling~? The Zibons were gathered around something on the floor. They were peering down.

Myeong tried to look, but it was below the level of the capsule. Three of the Zibons were holding those huge guns she’d seen during the battle.

“You killed it?” Myeong croaked.

Miktar nodded.

“It’s over?”

“You saved him,” he said. His handsome face broke into a grin as he shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know how you did it, but you saved him.”

Sniffing back her tears, Myeong turned back to Roco, who was looking peaceful again, as though nothing had happened. The goo was completely gone.

She lay on top of him with a sigh. He was warm. He was solid. He smelled good. He felt like the normal Roco.

People were shouting again. They were cheering. It made her ears ache. It was annoying. This should be a time for her and Roco.

“Close the capsule,” she told the doctor.

“A short time only,” the doctor agreed, and he shut the lid.

The noise snapped off. Myeong buried her face into Roco’s throat with a sigh.