by Alana Khan
My lungs burn and my whole body hurts.
I glance to my right and see a muscular male sleeping, his chin on his chest. He’s out cold. Is he my rescuer or captor?
He’s between me and the door, and I’m weak. I don’t think I could crawl out of bed, much less sneak past him. Besides, where would I go? I’m on a starship. It must be filled with others who all want me in this room. There is no escape.
There’s one good thing. Whoever rescued me isn’t Federation. At least I don’t think so. My guard isn’t wearing the dreaded red-and-black uniform of a Fed.
I scrutinize him. It strikes me that this is the first person other than my mom and dad that I’ve ever met in person. That’s an overwhelming thought.
I’m no expert, but this male looks like a Simkin, except he doesn’t. Goodness knows, over the last two months I’ve become intimately acquainted with the Simkin form, courtesy of Intergalactic Database images. But everyone in that race is bronze, and this male is white.
He looks like he’s had a hard life. My mom would say, ‘he’s been rode hard and put up wet’. I’m not sure of the Earth reference, but she used the expression to refer to someone who’s not been treated well. He has scars everywhere. The gash on his neck is so deep it looks like someone garrotted him. By the look of him, he’s lucky he’s alive. He must be a fierce warrior. A glance at him would scare an enemy.
Ar’Tok never actually said he was Federation, he told me he was on a starship. Could I be on a Simkin ship? Did Ar’Tok manage my rescue?
It’s funny. I’m filled with fear and calm at the same time. I’m not on the Misfit for the first time in my life, and I almost died. Those things are terrifying. But somehow, I was rescued, and I’m not shackled. I think I’m safe.
This thought gives me enough peace to fall back asleep.
~.~
I must be having a lucid dream. Ar’Tok’s deep, mellifluous voice is reading to me.
Neither of my parents believed in any Gods, but my dad read the Dre’Nam of the Indira sect when mom died. He told me we should say something respectful over her body. Even if we didn’t believe the words, I remember to this day how comforting they were.
As opposed to most religions, they spoke only of peace and love and comfort. And now I’m dreaming that Ar’Tok is in the same room with me, reading from the Dre’Nam, his words filling me with calm and hope.
Any worry-thoughts that had been rolling around in my head have deserted me, the tight muscles in my face stand down, and I breathe deeply for the first time since the oxygenator failed.
I swim up from sleep and open my eyes. I’m still in some foreign medbay; the soft tones of medical equipment still play background music in the room. And I still hear Ar’Tok reading to me.
I look to my right to see if my Ar’Tok has replaced the pale alien who slept next to me last night, but he’s still there, reading the Dre’Nam to me. In Ar’Tok’s voice.
“Ar’Tok?”
He stops reading, looks over at me, and his eyes widen in fear as if I caught him performing a heinous crime.
“Star. I . . . didn’t . . . I’ll leave now.” He scrambles to his feet so quickly he almost drops his pad.
“Ar’Tok? Don’t leave. You rescued me.”
Feelings swirl inside me as my mind frantically sorts things out. The pale alien needs to move from the ‘stranger’ category in my mind to the . . . ‘Ar’Tok’ compartment. I have to admit, his looks frighten me.
“Yes . . . no. I didn’t rescue you. The ship did. I’m certain you don’t want to see me. I’ll have one of the Earth females tend to you. They’re all very nice—”
“Don’t go.” Somehow my tired, aching arm moves fast enough for my hand to surround his wrist. “Please don’t go. Sit with me,” I coax.
He slips his hand from my grip, pushes his chair back until it hits the wall, then folds his large frame into the small metal chair.
I get a good look at him for the first time. He’s just as scarred, just as damaged as I thought. Maybe more so now that I see his full-frontal view.
I force my mind to connect the dots, to slot the funny stories and horrible swacheck music and calm words of the Dre’Nam not into the category of the bronze males on the screens of the Misfit, but with this male right here. The one who rescued me and sat with me all night.
“Ar’Tok.” I glance into his eyes—his good one is brown, the other is hazy; it’s been damaged. Someday he’ll tell me how he earned every one of his scars. Perhaps my fingers will know them by heart. Right now, though, I need to figure out how to keep him from running out of the room.
“I’m sorry I lied to you. I should have told you . . . I’m sure you’d rather one of the Earth females help . . .” his words stop as if he ran out of fuel.
“Ar’Tok.” I grace him with a delighted smile, the one we talked about only a day ago, the one that showed I was happy without baring my teeth. “Is there something wrong with me? Do I look different than you pictured me?”
My dad used to accuse me of being the queen of irony. I think I’m doing a good job of it by pointing out the oddity of my looks, not his.
“Yes. You look different,” he says, surprising me. Was he expecting someone . . . prettier? “You’re more beautiful than I dared to imagine.”
Oh. He’s just as sweet in person as he was on comms.
“You look different, too.” I blurt. We might as well address the elephant in the room. I think all his stammering and wanting to run away is about his looks. I’m not going to pussyfoot around.
One big, masculine hand lifts to cover the gash on his throat, and the other hides his face, especially his ruined right eye.
“All the pictures I saw of Simkins showed males with bronze skin. I didn’t dream you’d be paler than me.” I pause to let him absorb my words. “I imagine you have stories to tell about how you received your wounds. Someday, maybe you’ll share them. In the meantime, I’ll just wonder.”
His hands slowly lower, finally lodging on his lap. He looks at me, brow lowered, as if he’s trying to read my mind.
“The Dre’Nam was the perfect thing to read to me. It was soothing.”
Ar’Tok
“My looks don’t . . . disgust you?” I ignore her remark about the Dre’Nam. That can’t be what’s on her mind.
She’s so beautiful. I would have thought the expression on her face would show revulsion. She just keeps smiling at me like she’s . . . happy to see me.
“Bring your chair over,” she pats the edge of her bed, “and tell me what happened yesterday and how you rescued me. It was yesterday, wasn’t it?”
I scoot a few inces closer and tell her everything. Well, almost everything. I didn’t tell her I saw pictures of handsome Simkin males flashing on every vid screen on the bridge as I strretchered her out.
“I hung onto every word, Ar’Tok. Every word you spoke, every story you told, the music you played. Instead of worrying about my impending death, I held onto you. I can’t say I wasn’t scared, terrified actually, but for long moments I was able to push those thoughts out of my head and focus on you. Your calm, caring voice pulled me through. I’ll be forever grateful.”
Ahhh, grateful. She’s trying her hardest to be kind to me because I was her lifeline. After all, if it wasn’t for me, she’d certainly be a cold, dead, hunk of meat lying on the floor of a malfunctioning satellite.
What a female of worth! She’s doing an excellent job of pretending I don’t offend her eyes. I have to give her credit, she has a kind heart.
Dr. Drayke barges through the double doors. The medbot must have pinged him when her vital signs indicated she was awake.
“You’ve been through a lot,” he says as he conducts a full array of scans. “You may be weak and possibly out of breath for a few days, but the tests indicate you’re doing well. You can walk as much as you want, just make sure someone is with you, in case you get tired and need a hand. I imagine this fellow would be happy to accompany
you.”
He smiles wider than I’ve ever seen him smile as he pats me on the back. Is he matchmaking? Throwing us together? Forcing my abhorrent presence upon this unsuspecting innocent female?
“My mate, Nova, and some of the other females have gotten your cabin ready and stocked it with clothes. We’ve put you right next door to Ar’Tok. Our ship is halted next to your satellite. Savannah, the mechanic you spoke with yesterday, says the Misfit can be salvaged. It just needs some parts. Don’t worry; Captain Zar told me to inform you that you’re welcome to stay with us as long as you like.
“Do you feel ready to walk? Want the hover-stretcher?” his voice is kind and concerned.
“Let me see.”
She throws her legs over the side of the bed, but before she puts any weight on her feet, I rush to her side to help support her. With my hand on her elbow, she rises, tests her ability to stand, then nods.
“I can walk, I think, if you keep your arm around my waist, Ar’Tok.”
My arm surrounds her of its own volition as I realize I’m touching Star after two lunars of dreaming about this. Why did she want my touch? She’d be better off on the hover-stretcher, pushed by someone other than me.
Before we take two steps, I see the medical gown that fully covers her front has left her backside exposed. My cock becomes instantly hard at just my quick peek of her rounded ass.
“Wait,” I order as I grab the thin blanket from the bed, wrap it over her shoulders, and let it cover her like a cape.
“Thanks.”
We saunter out of medbay under the indulgent smile of Dr. Drayke. Star’s slim arm slides around my waist, my arm is around hers, and we shuffle down one hallway after another on our way to her cabin.
Her steps, slow at the start, become more labored the farther we go.
“Want me to get you the hover-stretcher?” I ask as I peer over at her. Her jaw is clenched, every step is costing her precious energy.
“I should have taken the doctor up on that, but I don’t have the strength to wait for you to go get it—”
I lift her into my arms to carry her the rest of the way. I have a picture book in my head, one I’ve nurtured since childhood. Last night when I urged her to stay alive so she could taste the ocean and dig her toes into beautiful blue sand, those ideas were all from my picture book—thoughts and images I cultivated in my mind to keep me alive during the dark times.
This picture, right here, will become the first page of that book. No, it’s now the cover. Pretty Star, in my arms, nestled tightly against me. I’ll never forget how moving this moment feels.
Then I glimpse her face. Every muscle is tight. This isn’t from fatigue. This is from being so close to me. She’s grimacing from forced proximity to me. I don’t blame her. I know I’m repellent.
I launch into a jog, then a run. The faster I can get her out of my arms, the better it will be for her.
We make the turn onto the dorm hallway, whizzing past doors until we pass mine. I stop at hers, palm the plate, race through the door, and set her on her bed.
“I’ll have one of the females help you, Star. I’m so sorry I . . .”
“Can you stay?” Her brown eyes look large and luminous. I shake my head; did I hear her right?
“You want me to stay?”
“I’m afraid. I’ve never met another being before—none except my mom and dad. I was raised on the Misfit. Drones delivered all our goods, or my father took the little cruiser to the nearest planet—without my mom or me. Humans are illegal.
“Dr. Drayke scared me. The females he wants me to meet? They’re going to scare me. Thank the Gods the doctor didn’t touch me, I don’t think I could bear it. I’m going to need some time to adjust.”
I read a book once about a person who fell into another dimension where up was down, and black was white, and nothing was as it had been. I feel like I plunged into that dimension.
Did I hear her correctly? Out of all the people on board, she wants to be with me? She couldn’t endure the doctor’s touch, but she tolerated mine?
“Okay. No problem. I’ll stay. Are you hungry? I could get us food, or have someone bring it. You don’t have to see anyone. I’ll take care of everything.”
“I’m starved,” she admits.
Star
Ar’Tok comm’d the kitchen and someone will bring us some food. He seems bewildered by me and hasn’t said a word for a while, which is just as well, because I have a lot of thinking to do.
I grew up on a satellite knowing that if anyone discovered my mom or me, they’d sell us into slavery, or worse. When I was young, my dad taught me how to fix everything on board. He wanted me to be able to fend for myself if anything happened to him and my mom.
I learned how to wrench the engine at age seven. Dad put me in charge of renovating the hydroponics lab at ten. I’m a big girl. Dad used to tell me I was wise beyond my years.
So, where did that female go? Because the word ‘scared’ has never been in my vocabulary until today. And I want that word banished. Right. This. Minute.
I’m afraid to meet some Earth females? That will not do. I won’t allow it. I am not a coward. All that shit stops now.
The knock on the door startles me, but my initial bolt of panic just strengthens my resolve to look my fear right in the eye.
“I’ll get it and be right back,” Ar’Tok says. He’s so sweet and seems to be having more trouble with our new situation than I am.
“Nope. I’ve got this. Tell whoever it is to come in.”
He arches a questioning eyebrow, the one over his good eye, but opens the door.
“Hi! I’m Maddie, the chef,” a human female practically sings. She carries a tray with two plates heaped with food.
“Star,” I say. “Pleased to meet you.”
“I have no idea what you like to eat, so I brought you a little of today’s lunch and a smattering of leftovers. Something will certainly make you happy. We were all so worried about you last night as we were speeding to rescue you. When I heard you were safely onboard, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“You’re probably in a daze, confused by this turn of events, so I have two things to say. One, don’t worry, we are a good bunch of people no matter what we look like. There are a lot of different species here, but everyone is nice, and I promise you, you’re safe. Two, stay as long as you want. We’ll take care of you.”
“Thanks, Maddie. Thanks.” That wasn’t so hard. Maybe I can do this.
~.~
I’m wearing my spacesuit, standing in the airlock between the two ships. It was less than twenty-four hours ago that I was talking to Ar’Tok over comms thinking everything was right with my world. Now I feel a flash of anxiety as I’m about to re-enter my ship.
I want to take another look at the oxygenator and see the extent of damage in the hydroponics lab.
The ship is eerie. I don’t have the courage to even glance under the captain’s desk. I remember laying there for long hours listening to Ar’Tok’s calming voice, thinking I was going to die. I don’t want to revisit that.
Savannah was right; the oxygenator is toast. I don’t bother to grab the part number; Savannah told me she had it already.
One step into the hydroponics lab and I feel gut-punched. All those beautiful plants are dead. Oxygen-less for twenty-four hours. Poor things. My imagination generously provides me with a mental soundtrack of high-pitched squeals of hundreds of plants dying in agony.
“Can you help me pick some of the produce?” I ask Ar’Tok, who’s at my side. “I think it’s still edible.”
I grab two cloth bags I use for just this purpose, toss him one, and we harvest everything that’s even remotely ripe. Maddie might be able to salvage something out of all this.
I don’t take the direct route out of the Misfit, I go the long way around, entering every room, touching things fondly, slipping into mom and dad’s bedroom, and looking at their belongings. I never had the heart to get rid of any of it
.
Ar’Tok instinctively knows I’m about to enter my bedroom before I even touch the palm plate. For some reason, it looks smaller. It seems less mine, as if I don’t belong here anymore.
“Give me a minute,” I say, noticing he’s waiting in the hallway for me. Here’s a male who understands the concept of personal space. It makes me like him more.
I grab two pillowcases and stuff them with everything I think I’ll need. I jammed things in tight, thinking I’d need a lot of space, but neither case is full. None of it seems important right now.