Page 54 of Meteor Storm

“I died,” he said. He lifted his wrist, showing me a tiny, diamond-shaped device that looked embedded in his skin with multiple barbs like some kind of permanent jewelry. “This is a khof kaar. My khof kaar. It is bonded to my DNA. All monrian soldiers have one. It’s our lifeline. Our armor. Our everything. When I was killed, it abandoned me, which is how Pek-Tol got his slimy hands on me. He revived me on that station, collared.”

“What does it do?”

He looked at it for a moment before dark, metallic red material began to manifest from within, tracing over his fingers like a second skin to form a glove.

“Whatever I want it to,” he explained. “It’s an artificial intelligence mixed with organic material, programmed to my electrical signature. My blood. When I am wearing it, we are reliant on each other. My body powers its operations and it provides me what I need.”

“So, you’re a battery? Monrians must have to be very strong.”

“The strongest. Kal Haiek warriors have to train rigorously to support a khof karr. We are engineered with specific traits to suit the needs of our employers.”

“Traits? Are you all different?”

“A large portion of us are designed for battle. Some for diplomacy and negotiations. They secure our contracts. Some are meant for religious purposes. They record and preserve our history. Keep old traditions and values alive.”

“Religious? What does that mean?”

He shifted in his seat and for a moment I thought he might be getting up to leave. I needed his voice though. I needed the distraction, so I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back as he started to explain.

“We have not forgotten our gods. Gods that existed before we left our home for the expanse. Akurion, the maker, gave us this life. He gave all the four races a chance. Valerians, gek’tal, monrians, and humans.”

I furrowed my brows at that. “Humans?”

“Yes, we all came from the same creator. The same DNA. We all have different names for the maker, but we are all connected. All evolved in different parts of the galaxy. All an attempt to keep an ancient, dying race alive.”

I swallowed. “Is that why you guys even entertained the idea of me getting pregnant? Do you… do you think it would have been possible?”

“Very. But monrians can control their fertility. When a monrian male comes of age, before he can be put into a rotation, he must visit Kalhor. It is our moon and it is home to the conceivers. Some of them are females of the highest pedigree, approved for breeding. Every monrian must lay with one before they receive their kohf kaar. It is a right of passage.”

“To get them pregnant?”

“Not always,” he shook his head. “It is more tradition than it is technical. Very few of us are born from a womb. Those who are usually remain on Kalhor. Others are born from a specific combination of DNA to make us stronger. When our world was destroyed, my ancestors decided that was how we would survive. There is no room for weakness or uselessness.”

“But there are a lot of you now, right? So, it worked.”

“We are many in number, yes. Created for others. Never ourselves.” He paused, shaking his head with a low hiss as if he had disappointed himself. “I am not meant to have these thoughts. My time on Mekah Prime has clouded my mind.”

“You’re not supposed to question things?”

“I am not meant to want. Or to doubt. I should not even be in here alone with you while I’m being investigated. I have forgotten myself.”

“They can’t blame you for what you did. I don’t. I know I’m just some stray human, but I hope that means something.”

He inched a little closer to me, staring into my drowsy eyes as if searching for something. I didn’t like the silence, though. In the silence I could hear that soft hum of the medical equipment doing whatever it was doing to my back.

“I don’t know humans,” he said in a near whisper. “But I know you and you are very strong, Penny.” He paused a moment. “Amelia.”

God, I loved the way my name sounded on his lips. Both of them. The way the “E” sounded so soft and almost breathy in his strange, alien accent.

“Compared to you? I wasn’t engineered, Thilar. I don’t even know who my parents are. I was abandoned to the foster system the moment I was born, passed from one careless family to another. No one wanted me. I always overestimate my abilities. It gets me into trouble.”

He squeezed my hand again. “Those who did not want you did not know you.”

“They knew me. They just didn’t care. No one on Earth cares. No one wants the burden of caring.”

“Caring…” he paused. “Is quite a burden.”

He peered over me, checking on whatever surgery was happening on my back that I could no longer feel or see.