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Chapter 1

Maklr

Maklrgrabbedthemedi-tabletwith one hand and grimaced at the sight of the bar indicating slow, yet steady, progress. “Why do results take so long?” he grumbled under his breath as his fingers drummed a staccato rhythm against the cool metal of the desk. “Come on.” He smirked as he used one of the human’s favorite expressions before dropping into his favorite faal-hide leather chair and leaned back far enough to prop his feet on the stool under the desk. “I said it wouldn’t happen, but it did. They’re rubbing off on me, especially theirexpressions. I’ve learned a lot from them already, but there’s so much more to the humans than I realized.” Maklr raised the glowing tablet to eye level. “Ugh, still not done.”

He rested the tablet on the desk, crossed his arms behind his neck, and stroked the recently shaved side of his head. A shock of white hair from his mohawk fell over his deep violet forearm and blended with the crisp, clean white of his lab coat. Dark purple eyelashes fluttered shut as he rocked his head against his arms, careful not to scratch his bronze horns against the leather of the seat.

His thoughts drifted to the most recent human refugees brought to Klaga. Their bruised and gaunt bodies from time in captivity with cruel overlords, compounded with a look in their eyes that could only be described as haunted, would trouble him forever. The successful reintegration of warriors and blending of Klagan and human cultures weighed heavily on his shoulders. Maklr exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he held.

Ever since the Klagan military had discovered a recently contacted planet was the target of an Elodian invasion, the Klagan military mobilized. Since they had sent soldiers on missions to rescue humans from their Elodian capturers, Maklr no longer worked timed shifts. Instead, he spent all hours of the day and night trying to make the adjustment to life on Klaga bearable for all concerned. Scouting ships became a more common, but not yet frequent sight, at the spaceport near Klaga’s capital of Dorbound. These ships carried some of the most precious cargo, in Maklr’s opinion, injured warriors returning from battle, sometimes bringing humans along. As the head medic, Maklr bore the majority of the burden of their health.

Maklr’s sleep schedule had been thrown out the proverbial window after the first waves of wounded warriors and new residents landed on Klagan soil. His ability to function onminimal sleep for the last few months had become legendary among the warriors. Most of the human staff regarded Maklr’s work ethic as extraordinary, even going so far as to consider him a superhero. Maklr wasn’t completely oblivious to the gossip, but he made every effort to hide the constant stress of his career.

The stress of managing the new medical facility Sovereign Giald placed Maklr in charge of was taking its toll. Haggard lines formed at the corners of his eyes, and his normally immediate response times had grown slightly slower. The Sovereign hired other Klagan medics and certain humans who had trained in the medical arts to help ease the ever-growing number of patients, but Maklr felt the health of all residents of Klagan society fell under the umbrella of his responsibility.

The tablet dinged a low chime, pulling Maklr from his reverie, showing the results had finished compiling. Maklr bolted upright, rubbing his eyes, before tapping at the screen. He frowned and scratched at the base of his horn. “Nothing. How can this be?” His hands fixed his hair into his signature mohawk, as he stared at the results.

Test number one. Negative. The word stood out on the tablet’s screen in enormous bold letters. He scrolled down. The second test’s results were the same. Another negative. “Stars, please, let there be an answer somewhere in this list. I ran every test I could think of,” he pleaded. As his finger scrolled, revealing the same results each time, his heart sank.

“How is this possible?” he murmured. Each of the fifty-one tests appeared with the same word: negative. “I don’t understand. How am I supposed to fix it if nothing is wrong?”

Soft footsteps tapped against the smooth floor. A familiar voice came from behind him. “Can I come in?” Maklr turned to see Charlotte, a human woman hired by Sovereign Giald to serve as a therapist, standing in the doorway.

“Of course. I could use another set of eyes and perspective. I’ve got a major problem.”

“What?” Charlotte scurried to Maklr’s side. “How can I help?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the woman,” Maklr said, thrusting the medi-tablet into Charlotte’s hand. “These results confound me.”

“Wait. What are you talking about? Who?” Charlotte asked.

“You know, the dark-haired one. The one you’ve walked in with a few times. You know.”

Charlotte laughed. “You’re going to have to be more specific. I walked with a few people. I’m not sure who you’re talking about.”

Maklr scratched the side of his head. “I’m sure you’d know. The quiet one who doesn’t talk.”

“Oh, Nell?”

Maklr nodded. “That’s her name. Nell.”

“What do you mean when you say there’s nothing wrong with her?” Charlotte asked, dropping onto the three-legged metal stool next to Maklr.

“Exactly what it sounds like. I’ve run every test I can possibly think of, and I can’t figure out the reason her voice doesn’t work.” Frustration filled his voice.

Charlotte flipped through the tablet, her lips pursed. “I see what you mean by every test. You meant every test.”

“Of course. Why would you think otherwise?”

“Sometimes when humans say things like ‘every’,” Charlotte air quoted, “they’re exaggerating a bit,” she explained.

“Why would they do that?” Maklr’s voice was incredulous.

“Humans are confusing. It makes no sense. Exaggerations will not lead to correct diagnoses.”

“I agree. Sometimes, people want to be heard.”

Maklr huffed. “I listen. The sooner my patients tell me their ailments, the faster I can run appropriate tests and discern a proper course of treatment.”