Page 32 of Master (The Outlander Book Club… in Space! #3)
Bartholomeus and Mei lay curled together on Mei’s bed, holding each other in much the same way we'd found them.
Bartholomeus cared so deeply for this small human woman—I prayed she did not pull away from him if we managed to free them from the mumje.
I know how it felt to have the female you wanted shy away from your touch…
just as I now knew the joy of having her crave it.
Lula occupied the guest room, curled on her side under a light blanket. Tears slipped from Buck's eyes as he dropped the tray of plants he held, sinking onto the mattress beside Lula and pulling her close.
“How do we do this?” I asked, placing the tray I held atop a nearby table.
Clara tapped her lips for a few minutes. "Let's do this as scientifically as possible. Help me set the plants around her on the bed."
Buck reluctantly rose from his wife’s side and helped us surround Lula with the winding pale green vines. We pinched and tore at the leaves and vines to activate the defensive properties.
Pulling a heavy blanket from a nearby cupboard, Clara draped the cloth over Lula, cocooning her underneath, alongside the plants.
“How long till she heals?" Buck asked nervously, staring at the bed.
"We don't know if it will work, Buck. But I won't stop trying until we find a way to cure Lula," Clara professed, a dainty hand patting Buck's arm reassuringly. A dainty hand that held my heart and soul in its grip.
When did I start feeling this way about her?
When had I not?
The violet eyes watched the bed with such determination that my heart swelled with pride. Clara was smart and kind and loyal… and mine. Even if the Valana never saw fit to bless our mating, my heart… everything in me belonged to Clara.
A weak moan jerked all attention to the bed. Buck lunged forward, yanking the blanket from his wife's face. Lula squirmed weakly, issuing low, breathless moans.
“Lula, honey, can you hear me?” Buck cradled her face in his hands.
“Let me check her eyes.” Clara leaned over the bed, gently lifting one eyelid, then the other. The milkiness remained, but thinned enough we could see the frantic movement of blue irises underneath.
“She is fighting the mumje," I said, awestruck by the turn of events. In my experience, mumje infection served as a life sentence with no reprieve.
"That's it, honey," Buck urged, pressing soft kisses on her face. "Come back to me."
Lula’s thrashing increased, her movements spastic. Minutes later, she collapsed, seemingly worn out by the effort.
"Lula!" Buck keened. The gaze he turned to us shimmered with tears. "What happened? Why didn’t it work?”
"I'm so sorry, Buck." Clara blinked back tears of her own. "I don’t know what went wrong. It looked like the vines were helping.”
“Perhaps the plants we have aren’t giving off enough chemical?" I knew nothing of plants, but I knew most of the reasons any number of explosives might not perform as expected… interference with the energy-yield ratio chief among them.
“You could be right." Clara went back to pacing and lip-tapping. "If the plants don’t feel threatened, they may not give off DMNT at all.”
Buck swiped the plants from Lula's side, crawling onto the mattress beside her. My heart broke for him. I could only imagine the agony of Clara being in this position. How would I help her? I knew nothing of healing—only weapons.
Perhaps that knowledge was enough.
I looked at the vines only as plants instead of a tool. Most explosives began in a natural state, the pertinent matter extracted for use in various weapons—no different from the chemical properties in these vines.
“Is there a way we can extract the defense chemical from the plant and try that directly on Lula?”
Clara froze, gaping at me for a minute before finding her voice.
"We can. Mei has the tools in her lab. Brillant idea, Tarook." Her smile broadened, and my chest puffed with pride.
“How long will that take?” Buck’s voice wobbled with exhaustion and worry.
“A couple of days," Clara told him, eyes shimmering. “I'll work as fast as I can.”
“As long as I know my girl will be alright,” Buck gave a grudging nod, not once taking his eyes from his wife’s face.
“What about the others?" Lula might be Buck's only concern, but I'd made myself master to over a hundred villagers today. They needed to be healed as well.
“Once I extract the DMNT, we can try it on everyone." Worry pinched Clara's face. "It will take a lot of plants to extract enough for that many doses.”
“I got thousands on the farm. You're welcome to every damn one of them." Buck mumbled.
“Can we use it on everyone all at once?” I suggested, pondering.
“What do you mean?”
Clara stepped to my side, the tips of her breasts brushing my bicep, threatening to pull my mind away from the duty at hand. I pushed the urging of my cock aside, promising it I’d stay in bed with Clara for a solid week if we managed to heal everyone.
"I just had a thought. Mumje begins in rock form, ground into a fine powder, and deployed by mist using an aerosol chamber….”
“Aerosol!" Clara squealed, flinging her arms around my shoulders in a celebratory hug. "Tarook, you're a genius. If I can turn the DMNT into an aerosol, It won’t take as many plants. We’ll just need to find the right kind of carrier gas.”
“Bartholomeus might have something in his store we can use," I suggested. The general store held more than food and dry goods. It served as a one stop shop for the village holding whatever one might need in a farming community.
“We’ll need a place big enough for all the villagers to congregate—somewhere indoors where we can control the ventilation so the DMNT can saturate the air.” Violet eyes bounced between me and Buck, hoping for an answer.
“What about the gymnasium?” Buck suggested.
“Brillant Buck!" Clara flashed him a broad smile, and idiotic as it was, my heart spasmed with jealousy.
“So, we have a plan?” I asked, using the opportunity to slide my arm around Clara’s shoulders, pulling her close.
"We have a plan," Clara beamed. "First step, we head to Buck’s farm and bring back as many sweet potato vines as possible."
“Um.” Buck’s hold on his wife tightened. “You two are welcome to my truck, or anything else I own for that matter, but if you don’t mind… I’d rather not leave Lula.”
I smiled in agreement. If I stood in his shoes, a fleet of Alliance warships couldn’t drag me from Clara’s side.