I didn’t know what Zuran said to the captain, as I hadn’t offered anything for him to translate, but whatever the Novai responded with seemed to affect him strangely. I saw Zuran flick his eyes to Venan, who met his gaze with obvious concern.

“What?” I demanded. “What did you just say?”

“I wanted to know if he knew what the disease was,” Zuran told me. He answered rather slowly, like he was too lost in his thoughts to focus.

“And? Does he?”

Again, Zuran’s gaze shifted to Venan. “He believes it is something called sun-sickness.”

I frowned. The only thing I could think of that could be semi-related was heat stroke, but the Novai definitely weren’t suffering from heat stroke unless it affected their bodies differently, in which case it really couldn’t be classified as such. “I’d appreciate it if he’d tell us more about this sun-sickness,” I requested.

The Novai started to screech again upon hearing I wanted to know more, and Zuran spoke over him in English to me.

“What you see before you is the result of centuries as a space-bound race. After our planet had been destroyed, we were forced to live as galactic nomads. We have had many brief stints on livable planets, but they were already occupied by native species, and we were unwelcome. Sometimes, we moved on willingly while other times we fought in desperation to claim a home, but every time ended in our return to the fleet.” I’d heard stories of the Novai landing on planets and battling the local races for territory. It was the main reason the A’li-uud were hesitant to allow them to colonize on Albaterra at first. “Over time, our genetics began to mutate to adapt to our new living conditions. We once were much larger than we are now, taller and broader, but our physiques diminished to accommodate to the cramped conditions of ship life. Without proper exposure to sunlight and the elements, our skin paled and softened, and our eyes were shrouded because our lifestyle does not necessitate sharp, alert vision. Even our voices changed.”

I was starting to get a clearer picture of the Novai, both of their past and the mutacorpathy. One of the most shocking cases I’d ever come across when I worked in the emergency room was a child of fourteen who looked no older than six. She was brought in by the police after her mother was arrested on charges of child abuse and neglect for confining her daughter to a closet over the span of eight years. The girl was severely malnourished and dehydrated, but the most startling thing was how underdeveloped she was. Her body hadn’t even begun to enter puberty, and she was so short that she was eye-level with the door handles. After spending so much time in a dark closet, her eyes were painfully sensitive, and she was basically blinded anytime someone turned on the lights or opened the curtains. The doctor treating her had seen a similar case about a decade back, and he said her height and figure would be permanently stunted. By the time she was released, she still had to walk around with sunglasses for visual comfort. It had been utterly heartbreaking to witness, but I realized now the Novai had suffered a similar physical effect.

“The first planet we attempted to colonize is rumored to be the first occurrence of the sun-sickness,” Captain Hett continued, according to Zuran. “It was long before my time, generations ago. Our ancestors recorded symptoms of unstable temperament and flesh disintegration. According to the tale, none of the colonists survived the first bout, and it was assumed to be the result of an environmental incompatibility with our race. “

“But it happened again,” I asserted.

“Yes,” Hett confirmed. “After the third outbreak, it was theorized our bodies had evolved so drastically we would find it difficult to transition back into planetary living. Those who survived the sun-sickness were rumored to have reversed the genetic mutations and reverted to what we once were. Unfortunately, the records indicate most perished in the process.”

Venan interjected. “If you knew your race in its current form to be unable to survive outside of your fleet, why did you send down colonists at all? Were you not just sentencing them to death?”

“As I said, the incidences of sun-sickness were well before any Novai now living were born. We have attempted to colonize dozens of planets since, and, while no attempts were successful, there were no occurrences of the fabled sun-sickness.” Hett’s mouth turned down. “We assumed we had evolved past that particular weakness.”

“Even if you thought you were immune, though, why didn’t the colonists tell us about the sun-sickness when they first started showing symptoms?” I asked. “We might have been able to do something about it a lot sooner.”

“They did not know,” he explained. “The stories and records are so ancient they are no longer widely shared. Only those of us in positions of authority are the keepers now.”

Zuran spoke to him then, his voice shrieking through the cave-like room. The A’li-uud behind me, a rough-faced male called Yazzi, leaned forward and said quietly, “He wants to know if the sickness poses a risk of spreading to A’li-uud or humans.”

I could’ve answered that. It didn’t. This wasn’t a virus lingering in the air or spewing from body fluids; this was a circumstantial reaction to conditions. The Novai around us now could travel back to Dhal’at with us and curl up in bed with the patients, and they wouldn’t get the sun-sickness either unless they too spent an extended period of time living on the planet rather than on their ships.

Captain Hett made a similar claim, as Yazzi whispered. I tapped Zuran’s arm to get his attention. “I want to know what he can tell me about the dark clusters beneath the skin,” I said.

Zuran interpreted my request to Hett, who responded with, “Historically, our race bore scales on select parts of the body. They were unique to the individual, much like our ridges.” He fluttered a hand over his face to indicate the protrusions across his cheeks and forehead. “It is difficult to identify the clusters you speak of without seeing them, particularly as I have not witnessed a case of sun-sickness, but I believe what you are seeing is a regrowth of the scales.”

“Is there anything in the records about treatment?” I questioned. “Do you know if there’s a cure?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he answered. “This is a condition every Novai will encounter if we ever wish to settle permanently.”

“But the mortality rate is so high…” I protested.

Hett tilted his head. I wished I could see his eyes to figure out his emotions, especially because Zuran’s translations weren’t necessarily conveying Hett’s attitude. “The process is indeed traumatic to the system, but the sun-sickness is a reality for our kind. The strongest will survive and flourish, and the weakest will perish.”

It sounded heartless, but I understood where he was coming from. They clearly didn’t want to continue living indefinitely in space, yet finding a permanent home risked their survival. If that was a risk they were willing to take, I couldn’t fault them. The only part about it that bothered me was that the colonists weren’t told about the sun-sickness before they were sent down to Albaterra, which I felt was an oversight even though the Novain leaders seemed to be under the impression they’d evolved into immunity.

“So, there’s nothing we can do?” I asked, wanting to make sure.

“There is nothing anyone can do,” came Hett’s reply. “They will survive, or they will not.”

I pursed my lips. Clearly, the efforts of the healers and doctors working around Albaterra were futile for all but one reason: to keep the Novai under control until they met their fate or pulled out of it. There was only one question left to be asked.

“What can we expect the survivors to become?”

Captain Hett spread his hands. “They will become whatever nature intends them to be.”