Page 19 of Fated to the Dragon Alien
He tilted his head, not hiding his surprise this time.
Cerani reached behind her neck and pulled out a cuff she’d detached from an old respirator unit. The foam edge waspatched with scrap sealant and lined with a coil of insulation cable. Crude. But solid.
“I started doing this for every miner with an aging EP suit five cycles ago. If you could do this with real materials, it could slow down the lung problems.”
He turned the cuff over in his hands, examining it. “You made this?”
“From broken gear in the scav bin,” she said. “Whenever I find materials like this, I stuff them in my suit and work on others’ suits back in the barracks.”
He looked at her—really looked—and felt that same buzz in his chest he tried to ignore every time he left her. She didn’t just survive this place. She read it. Took it apart. Improved it.
“If I put this in front of Logistics…” he said.
“They’ll say I’m not qualified to make gear modifications.”
“Correct,” he said. “But I am qualified.”
She raised a brow. “You’re going to take credit for it?”
“If it helps,” he said with a touch of playfulness. “I can’t imagine your ego would object.”
Her face reddened behind her visor. “Of course, I don’t object. But I wish I could do it myself.”
She should be doing it herself, but input from a prisoner would be dismissed and he’d face disciplinary action. “I will rewrite the source as a field adaptation and say it was submitted by Technical Command.”
“Will they buy it?” she asked quietly.
He nodded. “I think so. These ideas are good, Cerani. Very good.”
Cerani didn’t look away. Her expression was careful, but not guarded—not with him. She didn’t look afraid of what he’d say. And he couldn’t get over how amazing she looked. Not just surviving, but healthy in a way no other miner was, not even close. Her cheeks were flushed, not from exertion, but fromwarmth. Color infused her skin. Her eyes—bright, golden, clear—they’d only gotten sharper since the first time he’d seen her in tunnel E.
The suits were the same. The food was the same. The radiation hadn’t changed. But she had.
“You’re different,” Stavian said under his breath.
Cerani blinked. “What?”
He hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but now it was out there.
“You’re different,” he said again, louder this time. “The others… I can’t even keep them on cycle for more than a few shifts without medical complications. But you—your vitals come back stronger each sweep. I’ve scanned every report twice, and you’re getting healthier.”
She gave a half nod and looked at the cuff still sitting in his hands. “I’ve noticed the same thing.” She glanced up. “And I don’t use stims. Haven’t from the beginning.”
Stavian’s brow pulled together. “You should’ve collapsed cycles ago.”
“I know.” Her voice was even. Soft. “But I didn’t.”
His breath slowed as he looked at her—her steady hands, her posture, the way she leaned forward like she expected truth and had no use for anything else.
“I’ve been in this mine for cycles longer than the turnover limit,” she said. “Some miners have higher resistance to the radiation than others, but everyone eventually gets put offline. I’m just standing here. Still sharp. Still strong.” She met his eyes head-on. “The radiation isn’t just not hurting me. I think it’s helping me.”
He knew this from his conversation with Bendahn, but there was still no way to know the true limits of her body. How much radiation was too much? “I wonder if you need the suit at all,” he mused.
Cerani turned her head slightly, her gaze flicking to the wall. Her lips pressed together. “Maybe I don’t.”
Stavian stared at her gloved hands, which lay on her lap. He could hear the quiet sound of pipes above them, the shift and thud of machinery in the distance, but everything in him stilled. She wasn’t exaggerating. She wasn’t posing. She meant it.
The suit might not be keeping her alive.
