Page 46 of Salvation for the Alien Mercenary

Then nothing.

* * *

Alarms wailedas they rushed Davis through the medbay doors. His massive frame hung limp between Covak and Ryke, head lolling forward, feet dragging across the metal decking.

She pressed herself against the wall, pulse hammering in her throat. The familiar antiseptic smell hit her… sharper than Rettnor’s clinic, and with an underlying metallic tang she’d come to recognize as distinctly non-human. Her heart raced as she locked onto Davis with every sense. She couldn’t look away. He was pale, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and his muscles spasmed beneath his skin in a way that made her wince.

“Get him on the table,” Jex ordered. “Covak, we’re going to need the restraints.”

“Restraints?” She stepped forward. “But he’s unconscious.”

“The last episode he had, those muscle contractions were much smaller,” Jex replied, looking at her as he moved around the examination bed. “I’m worried he could injure himself if he seizes.”

Covak secured thick bands across Davis’s chest and legs. “His pulse is erratic,” he said, attaching monitoring sensors across Davis’s torso and temples. “Temperature climbing.”

The medical display lit up, vital signs flashing in angry red. She caught her breath. Davis’s heart rate spiked and plummeted in chaotic patterns, his temperature hovering four degrees above what it should be.

“Give him ten units of stabilizer,” Jex ordered.

Covak frowned. “That dosage would drop a Latharian into shutdown. He’s human.”

“His physiology is rapidly altering. Standard doses are inadequate.”

“And if you’re wrong? If his system can’t handle that level of sedation?”

“The alternative is metabolic cascade failure.” Jex’s helmet tilted toward the monitor where Davis’s vitals danced erratically. “And his probability of survival is dropping by the second. So we can carry on debating ordosomething to save him.”

Her fingers dug into her palms, but she barely registered the pain. Davis convulsed, his spine snapping into a hard arc as a strangled sound escaped his throat.

“Fine.” Covak reached for the dispenser. “Five units. We can increase if needed.”

“Inadequate.”

“Non-lethal,” Covak growled. “Unlike your approach.”

Jex sighed, the sound hissing through the speakers of the suit. “Do it.”

She edged closer, her hip bumping the monitoring station as Covak gave him the stabilizer, and he slumped against the bed.

A screen next to the main display showed what she recognized as his genetic structure, complex patterns highlighted in red and amber. She frowned suddenly.

“Guys,” she said, pointing to a repeating sequence. “Is that pattern supposed to be duplicating?”

Jex turned to look at the screen. “Shit. You’re right. We have genetic replication accelerating in specific regions.”

Covak leaned in, his amber eyes narrowing. “Frexx. Those markers are?—”

“Latharian,” Jex said.

The words hung in the air as Davis arched again, monitors screaming in alarm. He strained against the restraints, his face contorting in silent agony.

“He’s going into shock,” Covak snarled, reaching for a different vial.

Jex’s hands flew across the control panels. “Something is triggering dormant sequences. The rate of cellular transformation exceeds sustainable limits.”

“In Basic,” Covak demanded, administering something directly into Davis’s neck.

“The changes happening in his body are too fast,” Jex bit out. “His systems can’t adapt quickly enough, which means his metabolic pathways are breaking down.”