Planet Athion: The Complete Series by Angel Lawson

42

Damon

If this womanwants to get caught…

If she wants to spend her life serving the Master…

If she absolutely has to throw her life away, what’s it to me?

These are the justifications rolling around in my head while I sit in the pilot’s chair, furious about Mercy’s decision.

The cameras catch everything. The moment she steps on the outpost. Cassidy and Amias behind her. Cass pulled a scarf over each of their heads, at least making an effort not to stand out more than they already are. It’s not like Mercy’s hair isn’t a literal red flag.

I chew on my thumbnail as I watch them approach the Trads. Amias doing the talking. The woman looks at Mercy, fearful and weak. Mercy bends down, touching her hand. Her belly. Pain crosses over the pregnant woman’s face as another contraction rips through her. For whatever reason, the Trads don’t seem to want to let her help.

Mercy pushes past them anyway, easing a hand behind the woman’s back. Cassidy goes to the other side. The woman’s legs buckle and she clasps her hands around her bulging belly. As they are struggling the men start arguing, yanking back on the woman in labor.

“Fuck this,” I mumble, hopping out of my chair.

I open the bay door and step onto the ramp. All eyes shift in my direction, but I ignore them, walking over and gesturing for Cass to get out of my way.

“Call a bus,” I tell the Tradrych. “An emergency bus. My girl…she can take care of the birth but you’ll need something for when the baby arrives.”

With something to do, the men scramble.

“Prep the medical room,” I direct Amias. He and Cass run ahead. The woman is heavy in my arms. Wet. Scared. Mercy and I lock eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever,” I say, striding forward and entering the ship. At the medical room I carefully lay the woman on the table and exit the room. Amias follows me, shutting the door.

“You’re doing the right thing,” he says.

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

“All children are gifts in our culture. Each one, regardless of their parents or how they were conceived. It’s our duty to protect them and their mothers. Somewhere along the way my people forgot the part about the women.”

It’s the alien mantra. Something I’ve heard from both Athion and a few remaining Tradrych. It comes from losing their women to the deadly, widespread virus. I look through the window at Mercy as she shifts from a woman lost to a woman with a focus. Everything about her changes; the way she carries herself, the expression on her face. I can’t hear her but I see the confidence, the concern, the empathy. Her eyes blaze with intensity as she directs Cassidy. They soften when she speaks to the woman, preparing her for what’s to come.

It’s in these minutes that everything changes.

I can’t tear my eyes away—not for a moment. Not when the woman screams, or when blood appears on Mercy’s gloved hands. Not when, sometime later, the baby appears, mouth wide—eyes closed, shocked from her mother’s womb. The three women smile, exhausted, proud, but I’m not interested in the pale red, shimmering, baby or the mother holding it to her chest.

I’m focused on Mercy—as if seeing her for the first time. Not as a victim I need to save. Not as my brothers' shared lover. But as a woman and a survivor.

Her eyes catch mine through the window and it’s like a shot running through my heart.

It’s not until later when the medical team arrives and transports the mother and baby to the bus, and Amias quickly disembarks our ship from the outpost, navigating back toward our destination, that I take a minute in my room to contact the unit. Again, it’s nothing much but it says it all.

Okay, I get it.