Barbarian Lover (Ice Planet Barbarians #3)(28)

I feel about as big as an ant. A tiny smushed ant ground into the carpet. I let go of his hand. “Okay, that’s what I wanted to know. Thank you.”

He laughs and cups my face in his big hands. “Kira, do not worry so. I have seen the khui resonate amongst those mated for many years. It is as if it can sense the love between two people and decides to unite them in every way.”

Yeah, right. More like the khui gives up and gives one last shake just to get a little something out of its host. I don’t think it’s as romantic as he thinks. And it wouldn’t happen anyhow. I give him a thin smile. “We’ll talk about it when I get out, okay?”

Worry clouds his expressive gaze and he leans in and gives me a quick, soft kiss. “I will wait here.”

I slip from his grasp and lay flat on the pallet. “I’m ready,” I tell the computer. The bed immediately begins to recede into the wall with me on it, and I watch Aehako’s worried face disappear from sight.

Lights flick and then go dark.

I suck in a breath, because this isn’t like a CAT scan after all – more like a slab in a morgue. What if the machine breaks down and won’t let me back out? I start to breathe rapidly, full of anxiety. My hand touches the panel over my head. It’s less than a full arm’s length away, ditto the sides. Lights begin to flicker, and I watch the walls come to life with more writing and dancing charts – probably my vital signs.

“How can we assist you today?” the computer’s smooth voice asks.

“I need a foreign object removed.” I point at the translator in my ear.

“Please remain still. Our systems will scan you to make a health determination.”

I put my arm down and lie flat on the bed, careful not to move. I look around, wondering at the technology. I’m a lot smaller than the bed itself – I think even Aehako’s brawny form could fit in here – which tells me that the sa-khui haven’t changed much since the crash. There’s a head rest – maybe in case the patient has extremely large horns – but it’s too big for my neck and I ignore it, tilting my head off to the side.

“Our sensors have noted two foreign bodies,” the computer informs me pleasantly. “Would you like for us to proceed with extraction of both?”

“T-two?” I stammer, shocked. “What do you mean?”

“Our sensors indicate a non-organic compound attached to your human sensory organ. Further scans indicate that you have also acquired a parasite native to this planet—“

Oh. The khui. I keep forgetting that Aehako’s people crash-landed here and had to take the khui, same as we did. No wonder their computer views it as a foreign object. “I want to keep the parasite and get rid of this thing.” I tap the translator. “The non-organic compound attached to my um, ear.”

“Please turn on your side so we may examine the object in greater detail.”

I roll over and immediately, computerized arms sprout from the wall and begin to touch the translator. Things whirr and chirp, and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from jerking every time something taps on the metal, as it sends feedback screeching through my skull.

“Object identified,” the computer informs me. “Sensors indicate it is a strbde qreiduvp scipqrei.” The computer rattles off a sequence of unintelligible sounds. “Would you like to proceed with extraction?”

I notice no one’s offering anesthesia or novocaine or any sort of medication to numb the pain. I lick my dry lips. “Is it going to hurt?”

I mean, I still need to get it removed either way, but I want to know what I’m in for.

“Sensors indicate that the equipment is attached to sensitive neural tissue. It will take some time and effort to remove without damage, but the probability for successful extraction without requiring additional surgery is 97%.”

That sounds encouraging. “Let’s do it, then.”

The table underneath me whirrs and shivers, and a sleek metal cuff slides around my neck.

“What?” I yelp, jerking as another cuff locks around one of my wrists, and another on my ankles.

“Kira,” Aehako bellows, and his voice sounds far away, muffled through the machinery.

“Please remain still,” the computer admonishes me. “You are being restrained for your own safety. The slightest movement can affect the operation. Do you still wish for us to proceed?”

“Kira!” Aehako shouts again, and I hear a clatter of equipment, and an angry chirp from the computers.

“It’s okay,” I call out in a small, thready voice. “I’m all right! Tell him I’m all right, computer.”

It’s silent for a moment, but I don’t hear Aehako shouting anymore, so I suppose that’s a good sign. I force myself to relax, trying not to think of the cuff around my neck as choking me. It’s just like a blood pressure cuff. That’s all. No problem.

“Please remain calm during the procedure.”

“Okay.” I close my eyes so I don’t see the robot arms moving around. Something pings and I feel a tug against the translator, and my body tenses.

“Your blood pressure is abnormally high. Shall we provide soothing music?”

The question strikes me as utterly absurd, and I swallow my hysterical giggle. “I’ll calm down,” I promise.