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“We are all fine.” Vegas traced a finger over the back of Solan’s hand. “How are you feeling?”
Solan took a moment to enjoy the sight of her as she smoothed down the sheet covering him. That strange, sick feeling grabbed hold of his stomach again. “I am recovering. But I’ve been meaning to ask, is there something wrong with the air quality in the station?”
Her brow furrowed. “Not that I’m aware of. If there are disparities in air quality, there is always an alert. Maintenance run a daily check. Why do you ask?”
“I have been feeling... unwell since arriving at Prodigy. I believe it is an environmental problem. Your air quality is different to my home planet.”
“Let me check and make sure there’s nothing in the atmosphere that might affect you.” Vegas walked over to the screen on the wall. “Computer, run a diagnostic check on the station’s air quality.”
“Checking now. Pressure and composition are at acceptable levels. Nitrogen is at 78%, oxygen 21%, argon 0.93%, and there are trace amounts of helium and hydrogen.”
“Is there a problem with the carbon dioxide levels?” Solan asked.
“Negative. The station’s scrubbing system is operational. There are no toxic levels of carbon dioxide present in the station’s atmosphere.”
Vegas turned and looked at Solan. “I know it’s not an ideal atmosphere for Galaxars, but you can tolerate it. It shouldn’t make you feel bad. At most, you’ll get light-headed if you do anything too physical.”
Solan nodded. “There appears to be no problem. I do not understand why I have not acclimatized. I have been in these conditions before.”
She walked back to his bed. “How do you feel? It could be a virus. We scan for illness when anyone comes on board, but we’re encountering new aliens at least once a month and struggling to keep up with all the exotic conditions. Perhaps you have something our scanners didn’t detect.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing serious.” Still, Solan did not appreciate the way his stomach twisted. It grew worse now Vegas was close to him. Could she be the problem?
“I’d like to know. I want to make sure you’re not unwell.” Vegas placed a hand on his forehead.
“You mean other than the stab and laser wounds?”
“Those are being dealt with. The nano-med patches will leave you with nothing but a few scars.” Her smile was cautious. “Tell me. I’d like to help if I can.”
“It’s mainly my stomach and my heart rate,” Solan said. “It doesn’t happen all the time.”
“What happens?”
“My heart rate increases abnormally. My stomach feels as if I have eaten something unpleasant. It churns.”
“What causes it to happen?”
“When I am around you.” Solan tilted his head. “Perhaps it is a perfume you wear. What lotions do you use on your skin?”
Vegas grinned and patted his hand. “Big guy, I don’t think it’s anything I’m using. What you’re describing are symptoms of a powerful emotion.”
Solan didn’t like the sound of that. He liked to be in control of his emotions. “What particular emotion?”
Vegas sat on the edge of the bed again and took hold of his hand. “I think you’re in love. This is how love feels, especially when you first meet someone you like. Your heart races and your stomach flutters. You’re not sick.”
“That does not seem correct,” Solan said. “Why does an emotion that’s supposed to make me feel good, make me feel so terrible?”
Vegas pressed a kiss to his cheek. “If you stop fighting it, you won’t feel so bad.”
“I am not fighting it. This is not normal for a Galaxar.”
“It’s hardly normal for me.” Vegas ducked her head. “I didn’t mean to fall for you.”
“You have fallen for me?” Solan’s fingers traced over the bare skin on her arm again. His tiny, fragile human did want him.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Vegas said. “You’re different to how I imagined. It took some getting used to.”
“You imagined me before I was even here?” A slow smile spread over Solan’s face. “You admired me from a distance?”
