“Thank you for coming to find me again,” Awbil said as Ivol helped her out of the hover chair and onto the bed.

“As I have mentioned previously. I would prefer you were here on time, and I didn’t have to come to find you.” Ivol replied.

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind for next time.” Awbil smiled and laid back on the bed. 

Ivol stared at the woman as she tried to adjust her body to be more comfortable. It wasn’t an easy effort as her entire lower body and the lower half of her arms had fallen to the petrification disease. She smiled up at him as she rolled her shoulders again. Ivol’s eyes picked up the pinprick points of her limin, which vibrated and responded with each move. The beds were, of course, Orl-made, which meant that the fabric was created with fibers whose molecules vibrated at frequencies that brought the most comfort to orlians. Ivol had made sure this bed was specifically tailored to Awbil’s biology. Now that most of her body had fallen to the disease, no amount of customization would ever allow her to feel comfortable. 

“Would you like me to adjust your arms?”

“I’m fine,” She answered and gave one of her habitual smiles.

Ivol turned to the info-server, and looked through the information for today’s session. He’d already memorized all the data but had a habit of double-checking. Given his and all iclaxian’s perfect recollection, his father would have called the behavior unnecessary redundancy. Ivol would have agreed, but still, he re-read the information. This would be Awbil’s 24th session. They’d tested the solution by Cal’elcorn for one week with no noticeable improvements to her condition, and the disease continued to spread. Today would be the second day of testing the paste synthesized by Il’caltin. 

“Have you noticed any improvements since yesterday?” Ivol asked after he finished looking through the data.

“Hmmm, I’m not sure. My left pointer finger might have twitched a bit.”

Ivol glanced at the finger. It was the same desaturated yellow as the rest of her petrified flesh. His immediate observation told him that nothing had changed with the finger, but he still picked up his tools and went to examine it. He took the tool and held it over the finger. Three short beams of light were shot into the finger. Ivol turned to the info-server and read the information displayed. As expected, not only had the petrification not been reversed, but it was still spreading.

Ivol felt a subtle flare in the energy behind his eyes, signaling his frustration, but it quickly calmed. They’d been assigned to Orl for one standard month, three local. Within that time, he and the rest of the galaxy had expected that the cure for the disease would have been quickly developed, but still, they were far from even understanding what was happening to the people of Orl. They knew what the disease did. Once it set in, it began breaking down and converting the molecules that made up their bodies into a rubber-like material called hilon.

Hilon was naturally occurring on multiple planets across the galaxy, and Orlians have been in contact with it for millennia, so it wasn’t that the material had somehow become dangerous to them. The worst part was that the petrified body parts behaved differently when connected to a living body. Ivol figured some kind of mana interaction was causing the discrepancy between their lab tests and live subjects. Unless they moved to testing on live orlians they would have to keep on with this guessing game. 

It was obvious that this medication would also be a failure, but Ivol proceeded with administering it again. He absently answered Awbil’s usual bombardment of silly questions as he used a brush to paint on a thick white paste that should have broken up the molecules of hilon and converted them back to regular orlian proteins. Ivol had no expectations for it to work.

“This one smells great,” Awbil said. “Is it powdery?”

“It’s more like a paste.”

“Hmm, will it work?”

“Potentially.”

He felt her staring at him but didn’t look up. She was silent for so long, Ivol thought she was done speaking, but then she spoke again, in a tone he’d never heard from her.

“I kind of scared, you know?” It was somber, and her natural voice was much deeper than the forced high tone she usually spoke in. “Have some sympathy, Ivol. I’m scared.”

Ivol paused briefly to allow an emotion he couldn’t decipher pass through, then he continued with the application, making sure to leave no gaps. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was smiling. She carried on the conversation with her usual lightness, and Ivol answered a barge of silly questions before sending her off.

He helped her into her mind-linked hover chair and watched her leave. Once she was out, Ivol slumped slightly and began re-reading the data again and adding new findings, of which there were none. He could already picture the diatribe he would receive from Vin’Colax, the mission’s leader, about how their failure was reflecting poorly on Iclax and the criticism they were receiving from the rest of the galaxy. Ivol released a whirring sound of irritation. He couldn’t care less about the galaxy’s criticism and certainly didn’t see why he had to be held accountable for another planet’s genetic weaknesses. After all, it was common for weaker races to succumb to illnesses.

Ivol tapped his metal fingers against the table, staring at the door Awbil had left through. Yes, he couldn’t be held accountable for the disease or the fact that a cure was proving difficult to develop. He felt no guilt towards that at all, but… he tapped his fingers again, listening to their sharp clinking. The solidity of each tap, tap, tap, a declaration of the infallibility of his own body. Awbil, even without the petrification disease, could never hold such certainty. Her body, as with all orlian bodies, fully healthy, had a shelf life of only a couple centuries. Such a short span of time would not even be enough for him to read one section of the books in the Recalson library.

A beep sounded, and he glanced at the info-server. He flicked a finger, and the message opened. A quick glance committed it to memory. Another promising lab test. Another serum to try. Ivol wondered how many more potential solutions Awbil would live to test. At the rate they were going, he knew she would die or be too far along with the disease before a cure was finally found. He closed his eye and allowed a brief moment to acknowledge the hint of pain that thought caused. He opened his eye and signed off on the message to acknowledge that it had been received.