Part 10 - The Eleventh Hour | Chapter 2

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The hypersphere leading directly to Elthinar's laboratory burst open; through it stepped Xertaza, who, a foul grimace marring her face, seemed to exude wrath with every step she took — evidently, she was in a better mood than she usually was. Elthinar thought this almost mockingly, though he of course, he realized that he could not blame her. After all, for someone who had suffered from years of involuntary, brutal, sometimes even cruel study and experimentation, receiving medical help of the kind only he could provide likely did not bring back happy memories.

Xertaza moved to the nearest medical bed without a word; Elthinar, gliding across the floor on his set of metallic legs, hastened to gather all of his equipment.

"I may be no expert on military science, but it seems that our victory at Nahmatiix is probable, considering what information I have access to," Elthinar spoke, his raspy, metallic tone echoing throughout his isolated laboratory; it was his attempt at breaking the silence.

"This battle is much like this treatment: I want it resolved as quickly as possible," was Xertaza's cold reply, as she shot him a piercing glare that practically yelled "Stop lying to me."

"It seems that I'm no expert on psychology either, judging by your response to my attempt at alleviating your negative emotional state," said Elthinar, his multiple mechanical eyes guiding his aim, as he plunged a colossal syringe into Xertaza's left arm and injected her with a cocktail of heavily modified microbial shield; Xertaza didn't even flinch.

"But," Elthinar continued, "as you know more about the aliens than any other in this galaxy, I can understand your desire to return to that front of this war. I can even empathize with it."

Xertaza scoffed.

"You talking about empathy is like Farlina discussing how to be respectful of authority!"—Xertaza, unexpectedly, let loose a dreary sigh—"I won't say, however, that there are not times where I wish that I had joined the Neutral League. Heralax may be despicable, greedy, and ambitious, but the only difference with Lassarha is that her ambition is backed by an archaic law — this, that she doesn't want to implement drastic societal change, that she didn't start the civil war, and that she, with much of the Imperatorial Navy and a lot of strategic talent, stands a slightly better chance of winning against the aliens than her Nahmatiixian counterpart. If it weren't for that last fact, I'm not certain I would be here at all."

Elthinar, in his unnerving, high-pitched, robotic tone, managed a chuckle, "And here I thought you didn't join the Neutral League because it was headed by Kalithihar!"—his tone became serious again—"Humor aside, I agree with you — in spite of all the risk, Lassarha was the right choice; the pragmatic choice. You always did pride yourself on ruthless pragmatism."

Elthinar thrust another needle into Xertaza, this one going directly into her chest, from which poured a trickle of unusually-dark red blood.

"That's why you're not only still alive, but you're my chief scientist. A lesser man or woman, and I can think of many, would hunt you down after what you did," Xertaza said.

"And a lesser man or lesser woman would heap praise upon me for what I'm doing now,"—Elthinar took yet another injector and plunged it into one of Xertaza's legs—"But you do neither, and this, I find remarkable. Fascinating, even."

"Even now, you tend to see me as an object of curiosity," Xertaza lamented.

"Blame my occupation, not me," Elthinar retorted, before, with a syringe in each hand, motioned for Xertaza to keep still; she complied, and the next moment she found herself being vaccinated through both her other leg, and neck, simultaneously. Both of the injection sites pulsed with pain, but Xertaza, well-accustomed, and with bigger worries on her mind, didn't so much as wince. Elthinar clasped one of his hands in a thumbs-up-gesture, and Xertaza stood.

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