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Sazahk was indeed unhappy to see the tall, lean figure in flowing robes standing at the lab window that overlooked the Dead Zone. The sight of his older brother’s rigid posture, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, and his long, perfect hair cascading impeccably down his spine put a lump in Sazahk’s stomach.
He considered turning around and leaving before Serihk acknowledged his presence, but he’d seen Serihk’s brutal-looking klah’eel bodyguard on the way in and he wouldn’t put it past his brother to have instructed the woman to drag Sazahk back in by his hair if he tried to escape the conversation.
After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time Sazahk had been forcibly taken against his will on his brother’s watch.
The dismal fantasy ended when Serihk turned around and dropped his imperious gaze onto Sazahk. “Brother, I’m pleased to see you’ve once again walked unscathed from an impossibly dangerous situation.”
“It is highly doubtful that my cells are unscathed given my amount of exposure to the persistent organic pollutants lingering within the soil of the Dead Zone.” Sazahk still felt no taller than his brother’s knees when his brother arched his eyebrow in that way he always did when Sazahk disagreed. “Your inability or unwillingness to observe the harm doesn’t render it nonexistent.”
Serihk heaved a heavy sigh. “Of course not.” He left the window to stand in front of Sazahk. “But seeing as you’re not being rushed to a hospital or running any urgent tests on yourself, I assume it’s safe to say you’re relatively uninjured.”
“If it makes you feel better.” Sazahk brushed past his brother to get to a blood-drawing station. They weren’t urgent, but he did want to run some tests on himself.
And on Garin.
Sazahk’s already tight chest constricted. It was unlikely he’d get the chance for that.
Serihk followed Sazahk to the bank of tubes and needles. “What would make me feel better is you reporting that the Dead Zone is, or can be imminently made, habitable for the Insects.”
Dark blue spilled out across Sazahk’s forearm, and he looked up from inserting a needle into his vein to scowl at his brother. “That is impossible to report at this stage in my research. I returned from my expedition less than an hour ago, my samples are still packed in my bag, I have numerous tests to run, to say nothing of the tests I have yet to devise to?—”
“What do you need?” Serihk’s commanding voice sliced through Sazahk’s protestations and Sazahk stopped, mouth still open.
He’d forgotten what that felt like.
To be interrupted.
Garin had never done that. Not once. Not when Sazahk had rambled on in his excitement about an unexpected mineral, or when he’d mused about the possible social structure of the Fauna A, not even when Sazahk had berated him and Garin had turned red with frustration.
He blinked and licked his lips, his limbs suddenly heavy. “What?”
“What do you need to draw a firm conclusion on the fitness of the Dead Zone for the Insects?” Serihk’s jaw shimmered with green as he tilted it. “Different equipment? More equipment? Personnel? Access?”
“Dom.” Sazahk looked back down at his arm and slid the tip of the needle into his blood vessel. He watched his blood spurt into the clear tubing and dribble into the vial.
Serihk responded after a long pause. “By ‘Dom’ do you mean Dominic Turner?”
“Yes.” Sazahk capped off the vial, slid the needle out, and applied pressure to the insertion point where a pinprick of blood welled out. “He’s the only person in the sector with the sort of experience and scientific acumen I need to flesh out my findings, evaluate potential strategies, and execute on?—”
“Are you fucking serious right now, Sazahk?” Serihk’s explosive roar yanked Sazahk’s head up and he almost dropped the cotton bandage he pressed to the bleeding crook of his elbow. Serihk spun around and stalked back to the window, pressing his forefingers to his temples. “Dominic Turner?”
“Yes.” Sazahk stared at his brother. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him yell. “For all the reasons I listed and more.”
“Dominic fucking Turner. It always comes back to the fucking Turners, doesn’t it?” Serihk rubbed his temples, his head bowed. His ribcage expanded as he heaved deep breaths. “Do you know why this report is so important right now?”
“Because if you can’t promise a new home to the Insects, they’ll take yours?” Sazahk wrapped a clumsy bandage around his elbow and stuck his vial of blood in the multi-purpose analysis machine.
“Ours,” Serihk corrected. “And no, it’s better than that.” Serihk turned away from the window, the red of his fury fading. “That report is important because it is the only nonviolent forcing function I can use to push these negotiations forward.”
“Negotiations?” Sazahk watched the machine whir to life and the heaviness in his limbs settled deeper, pinning him to his stool. He wanted to go to bed. An hour ago, he’d been excited to spend the rest of the day and the following night in his lab. But an hour ago he thought he’d be doing it with one of his only friends while Garin hovered and tried to make them eat. He hadn’t thought he’d be alone except for his tyrannical brother berating him again for failing to grasp what was truly important. “What is there to negotiate?”
“Everything apparently.” Serihk paced to one side of the small lab and turned on his heel. “All three species states must agree to allow a former and potentially future hostile entity to settle in the sector. And can you guess which species state is the hold out?”
Sazahk could, in fact, guess. “The Humans.”
“And can you guess which prominent Human voice is leading this inane display of obstructionism?”
Sazahk could easily guess that as well. “Alistair Turner.”
