Chapter 225

Chapter 225: Chapter 225

Tempest had never seen Dron look at Gerax with so much hatred before.

Not even when Gerax had stuck needles in him, prodded at his markings, or made comments that Dron clearly wanted to strangle him for. This was different. There wasn’t annoyance in his expression. There wasn’t even anger.

There was a promise.

If Gerax came anywhere near Tempest with a needle, Dron was going to kill him.

Gerax apparently understood the same thing because he’d put several feet between himself and Dron while he and Aliq went through the supplies they’d managed to bring onto the ship.

"We don’t need much," Gerax said.

"You need nothing," Dron immediately corrected.

Tempest sighed.

Aliq looked between them before wisely deciding to continue digging through one of the boxes.

"We have collection bags," Gerax continued as if Dron hadn’t spoken. "Not many, but enough to begin. Needles. Tubing. Containers. We have everything we would normally use if someone lost too much blood."

"And you can separate the plasma?" Tempest asked.

Gerax hesitated.

That wasn’t exactly the response she wanted.

"Gerax?"

"I can separate it."

"How?"

"We let it settle."

Tempest blinked.

That sounded ridiculously simple.

Gerax must have seen the doubt on her face because he frowned. "Your blood is made of different components, yes?"

"I guess."

Hen snorted beside her.

Tempest shot her a look.

She’d already established she wasn’t the science person here.

"If the blood sits, the heavier portions will begin to settle away from the liquid," Gerax continued. "It won’t be perfect. With the proper equipment, I could separate it much faster and much cleaner, but we don’t have the proper equipment."

Aliq finally straightened with several clear tubes in his hands. "We have these."

Gerax took one.

Tempest stared at it.

It looked like a piece of tubing.

That was it.

Somehow, she had expected a complicated alien machine to materialize out of one of the crates. Something that glowed and beeped and did whatever futuristic alien shit she still didn’t understand.

Instead, they had tubes, needles, bags, a few containers, her wrist device, and whatever Gerax had inside his head.

That wasn’t comforting.

"We can collect the blood into the bags, allow it to settle, and remove as much of the plasma as we can without disturbing the heavier portion," Gerax explained. "Your wrist device can analyze samples. Mine can do the same. We won’t know exactly how much of these antibodies are present, but if your device can recognize the difference between your blood and Sara’s..."

"It might be able to recognize what mine has that hers didn’t," Tempest finished.

Gerax nodded.

"And then what?" Dron demanded.

Everyone looked at him.

He hadn’t moved from Tempest’s side.

His arms were crossed over his chest, his jaw was tight, and the muscles beneath the clothing covering his arms looked like they were straining against the fabric. Tempest knew that expression. He was listening to everything they said while simultaneously searching for the moment when he could shut the entire thing down.

"Then we test it," Aliq answered.

"On who?"

Aliq hesitated.

Dron’s eyes narrowed.

"Someone who is already sick," Gerax answered quickly. "Someone whose condition is worsening enough that doing nothing presents the greater danger."

"Rynax," Tempest whispered.

Dron’s expression changed.

Only slightly, but she saw it.

They all did.

Rynax was getting worse.

He’d barely been able to stand when Tempest left the other ship. His fever was climbing, his words were becoming confused, and even though he’d tried his hardest to pretend he was fine, he wasn’t.

Not even close.

"If it works on him..." Tempest started.

"We still won’t know that it will work on everyone," Gerax interrupted. "Ustean bodies react differently depending on class, sex, health, age, even markings. There are too many differences for me to promise anything."

"But it gives us something," Aliq said.

Gerax nodded. "It gives us something."

Tempest looked toward Dron.

"No."

She hadn’t even said anything.

"Dron."

"No."

"You don’t even know what I was going to say."

"I do."

Tempest pressed her lips together.

Dron unfolded his arms and stepped directly in front of her. "They are not taking your blood."

"It’s half a liter."

"I do not care if it is half a drop."

Despite everything happening around them, Tempest almost smiled.

Almost.

"Dron."

"No."

"Mate."

His nostrils flared.

Tempest reached for him, placing both hands against his sides. He was still completely covered from his trip to Rynax’s ship, and she hated it. She wanted to feel his skin. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and press her face against his chest until some of the fear disappeared from his expression.

Instead, she settled for squeezing him through the fabric.

"I’ll be okay."

"You do not know that."

"People donate blood all the time on Earth."

"You are not on Earth."

"I know."

"You just finished your heat."

That made Tempest pause.

Dron apparently took her silence as a victory.

"Exactly."

"No, not exactly."

"Tempest."

"I’m healthy."

"You were locked away with me for twelve days."

"I wasn’t locked away."

Dron gave her a look.

"Okay, technically there was a door."

Hen made a strange choking sound behind her that Tempest chose to ignore.

"This isn’t funny."

"I know it’s not." Tempest softened her voice. "I know."

The anger in Dron’s face cracked just enough for her to see what was beneath it.

Fear.

Pure fear.

Tempest rubbed her hands against his sides.

"It’s not going to kill me."

"You cannot promise me that."

"No. I can’t." She hated admitting it, but lying to him wasn’t going to make this better. "I can’t promise you that nothing will ever happen to me. Just like you can’t promise me that every time you walk away from me, you’re going to come back."

Dron’s jaw tightened again.

"But you still go."

"Because I have to."

"And I have to do this."

"You do not."

"Yes, I do."

His eyes dropped away from hers.

Tempest moved one hand up and touched his cheek.

"Rynax is over there."

Dron closed his eyes.

"He’s your friend."

"He is."

"He might die."

Dron’s throat moved.

"And there are dozens of other people over there who followed us because we told them there could be something better. We can’t ask them to risk everything and then decide my blood is somehow more important than theirs."

"It is to me."

The words came so quickly that Tempest’s chest hurt.

She smiled softly.

"I know."

She leaned her forehead against his.

"And that’s why I love you."

Dron released a long breath.

"But I’m giving them the blood."

His eyes opened.

Tempest smiled wider.

"You can growl at Gerax the entire time if it’ll make you feel better."

"It will not."

"It might make me feel better."

Gerax cleared his throat from several feet away. "I would prefer if he did not."

Tempest laughed.

Dron didn’t.

But some of the tension left his shoulders.

That was enough.

"We aren’t taking anything from anyone until they agree," Tempest said, turning back toward Gerax and Aliq. "Not me. Not Hen. Not any of the other humans."

"Agreed," Gerax said.

Aliq nodded.

"And we need to explain exactly what we’re doing."

"We don’t exactly know what we’re doing," Aliq muttered.

Tempest stared at him.

Aliq shrugged.

"Probably don’t lead with that."

Hen laughed.

Tempest looked toward the opening leading below deck.

The laughter died quickly.

There were humans down there who had spent years being treated like commodities. Women who had been stolen from Earth because their bodies could give the Usteans something they desperately wanted.

Children.

Life.

A future.

Now Tempest was about to walk downstairs and ask them to give something else.

Blood.

Suddenly, it didn’t seem quite as simple.

"Come on," Hen said quietly.

Tempest looked at her.

"I’ll go with you."

Tempest nodded.

Dron immediately moved.

She pointed at him.

"No."

His face hardened.

"You cannot expect me to remain here."

"Yes, I can."

"Tempest."

"Those people have every reason in the world not to trust Usteans. I’m not walking down there with an alpha standing over my shoulder while I ask them to give their blood to save other alphas."

Dron didn’t like it.

That much was obvious.

But he stopped.

Tempest reached out and squeezed his hand before turning away.

She and Hen made their way below deck.

The air changed almost immediately.

It was cooler beneath the deck, but it was also crowded. Humans sat everywhere. On cots. Against walls. On the floor. Some were sleeping. Others whispered among themselves.

A few coughed.

Tempest noticed those immediately.

Her stomach tightened, but she reminded herself that they were vaccinated.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Faces turned toward Tempest and Hen as they entered.

The talking slowly stopped.

Tempest suddenly wished she’d prepared something.

Anything.

Hen moved beside her.

"You want me to do it?"

Tempest shook her head.

"No."

These people needed to hear it from her.

She stepped forward.

"We know what’s making everyone sick."

That got their attention.

A woman sitting near the wall straightened.

"What is it?"

"Measles."

The reaction was immediate.

Several people looked confused. Others looked horrified.

One woman actually laughed.

"Measles?"

"Yeah."

"You’re serious?"

"Unfortunately."

Murmurs moved through the room.

Tempest waited.

"Sara brought it with her," Hen explained. "She didn’t know. None of us knew."

That quieted them.

Tempest saw several people look toward the back of the ship.

Toward where Sara had died.

"Most of you should be protected if you were vaccinated as children," Tempest continued. "That’s why we’re not getting as sick as they are. Our bodies already know how to fight it."

"And theirs don’t," someone said.

"No."

The silence that followed felt heavier.

Tempest swallowed.

"Gerax thinks there might be a way to help them."

There it was.

The suspicion.

She saw it immediately.

People shifted.

A woman crossed her arms.

Someone else shook her head.

Tempest couldn’t blame them.

"He needs blood," Hen said.

That did it.

"No."

The response came from somewhere in the crowd.

Then another.

"Absolutely not."

"They’ve taken enough from us."

Tempest closed her eyes for half a second.

She understood.

God, she understood.

"No one is taking anything."

The room quieted slightly.

Tempest stepped farther into the center.

"No one is going to hold you down. No one is going to force you. No one is going to punish you if you say no. If you don’t want to do it, don’t."

"Then why are you here?" someone asked.

"Because I’m going to."

That stopped them.

Tempest lifted her chin.

"I’m giving my blood first."

Hen stepped beside her. "So am I."

A few people looked between them.

Tempest took another breath.

"I know what they’ve done to us."

Her voice shook slightly, but she didn’t stop.

"I know what it feels like to have someone look at you and see what your body can give them instead of seeing you. I know what it’s like to have choices taken away. I know what it’s like to be told that what happens to your body isn’t completely yours to decide."

No one moved.

"This is different."

Tempest looked around the room.

"Not because they deserve it. I’m not going to stand here and tell you that every Ustean on that ship deserves your blood. I don’t know them. Some of them might be assholes."

Someone snorted.

Good.

"But this isn’t about what they deserve. It’s about what we choose."

She pointed upward.

"Right now, there are people up there who are terrified. People who might die. People who left their homes because they believed we could build something better than what the High Royals gave them."

Tempest felt her throat tighten.

"And for once, no one gets to decide what humans are worth."

That silence was different.

Tempest could feel it.

"We decide."

Hen moved closer beside her.

"They’ve spent years telling us our bodies were valuable because we could give them children. They kidnapped us because of it. Traded us because of it. Married us because of it."

Tempest shook her head.

"I’m not giving them my blood because they think they’re entitled to it. I’m giving it because I decided a long time ago that I’m not going to become the kind of person who watches someone die when I have the power to help them."

Her eyes burned.

"If you can’t do it, don’t. If what happened to you makes this too much, I understand. No one in this room will think less of you."

She paused.

"But if you’re willing..."

Tempest looked around at all of them.

"We might be able to save an entire ship."

For several seconds, no one spoke.

Then a hand went up.

A woman near the back.

"I’ll do it."

Tempest’s chest tightened.

Another hand rose.

"Me too."

Then another.

Hen released a shaky breath beside her.

Hands began appearing throughout the room.

Not everyone.

Tempest hadn’t expected everyone.

But enough.

More than enough to make hope begin burning inside her again.

Tempest smiled.

"Okay."

She looked around at all the raised hands.

"Okay."

Hen reached for her hand and squeezed.

Above them were dozens of sick Usteans waiting for something that might save their lives. Behind them was an ocean separating them from Thraqe, a war they still had to fight, and High Royals who had no idea what was coming for them.

But first, they had people to save.

Tempest turned toward the stairs.

It was time to start the blood drive.