His response, however, catches me off guard – a shrug of those broad shoulders, and a gruff admission that makes my heart skip a couple of beats. “Perhaps telrinite is not rare on this planet. Also, it might not be worth much if your people haven’t yet learned how to manipulate its properties. Either way, having it makes things easier. We should just be glad that we don’t have to search for it.”
Ravok is right, of course. But I can’t seem but to feel a bit suspicious about the coincidence of it all. But what am I gonna do about it? Go track down the Malachite Maid and interrogate her?
When I hand over the telrinite to Ravok, he looks at me with such gratitude and relief that I decide it’s worthless to worry and fret about our good luck. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.
A strange thrill pulses through me then, a rogue wave of delight that surges at his happiness. I blink away my troubled thoughts, forcing a playful grin. “I reckon that we deserve some good luck, Ravok.”
Unwilling to delay, he gets right to work on his ship. Not wanting to be left alone in the cabin, I offer Ravok my help, although I don’t know how much I can do. It’s not like I know a single thing about spaceship maintenance. He gladly accepts my offer, making me think that maybe he wants to spend time together as much as I do.
And that’s how I find myself sitting on an old creaky stool at Ravok’s elbow as he leans into one of his ship’s open panels. I have accepted the task of being his assistant, which primarily consists of handing Ravok tools while he works. I feel a bit like a kid who is ‘helping’ their grandpa in the garage. Not that I mind. I have no idea what he is doing but watching Ravok work is fun. I watch as he sets the chunk of telrinite into a contraption that makes me think of a super futuristic air fryer. His thick but nimble fingers dance across an illuminated panel, inputting commands in a language written in glyphs that I now realize remind me of musical notes but not like any I’ve ever seen before. There’s a low hum, a soft whirring sound as the machine gets to work. When Ravok slides open the tray, instead of the lump of rock there is now a bit of complicated twisty metal that makes me think of a strangely coiled child’s pinwheel. It looks so delicate and fragile in Ravok’s palm that it seems almost inconceivable that it was a lump of metal a moment ago.
“Amazing,” I whisper to myself, the usual process of creation – hours, days, even years of raw human toil and sweat – unfolding in mere moments before my eyes. Ravok removes a crushed and scorched bit of blackened metal from the engine and slides the new replacement into its place. He has me hand him a strange tool so he can affix it in place.
I don’t mind. This is kind of fun. Once done, Ravok runs his scanner over the area, looking pleased at the text on the display, before moving to another section.
“Hand me the—,” he says a growly word I don’t recognize, pointing at a rod-shaped tool. I grab it hesitantly, studying it before passing it over. “Like this, Leelee,” he corrects me gently, showing me the right way to hold the tool.
As we work, Ravok asks me questions about my life, about what brought me to this cabin in the middle of nowhere. A part of me is embarrassed to admit that I have to start over after a breakup this late in life. But Ravok doesn’t judge me, far from it. Support and understanding radiate from him. It allows me to open up – to tell him about Marcus, about how I hung on too long and let myself cling to the hope of being treated right instead of leaving years earlier like I should’ve.
“You did nothing wrong. You gave this Marcus more than he deserved, but you wouldn’t be the type of female to rescue a battered, angry alien all on your own if you weren’t the type to give everything of yourself. I have never met someone with such unwavering kindness and compassion. You are remarkable.”
I can’t think of a response. My initial reaction is to deflect, to make light of his words. I force myself to accept his words, to take them to heart. I hadn’t realized I had closed my heart over my time with Marcus, protecting it from his callous disregard. It’s unfamiliar, to be seen and not feel inadequate, to be recognized rather than swatted aside. It’s a feeling I could drown myself in, hold onto it and let it seep into my pores until it consumes me.
“Thank… you, Ravok,” I murmur slowly. The gratitude in my voice mingles with a vulnerable honesty that leaves me raw and jittery. I drag my gaze from the tool in my hand to the fascinating glittering swirls in his glowing eyes, meeting their sincerity with a surprised blink of my hazel ones.
My mouth feels impossibly dry and there’s a split second where I might fall apart and burst into a graceless display of tears. Instead, I swipe a stray curl off my face with a shaky hand, blinking until the urge to cry passes.
“I’ve never met anyone like you either,” I confess. “I’m so glad that I found you in the woods. It’s incredible that you survived. And knowing what my people put you through, I’m amazed you gave me a chance to help rather than attack me. You are incredibly resilient. Despite everything you’ve been through, everything that you were taught by your people, you’ve been so wonderful to me.”
Ravok looks at me, his glowing eyes softening a bit.
“And your ability,” I continue, eager to express this to him, “your ability to adapt and find your footing in a completely alien world – no pun intended – is something not many could do. You’ve shown me that you are more than a skilled space explorer… You’re… wonderful. You’re determined, fierce, protective.”
Ravok tilts his head, studying my features.
“And most importantly,” I add, “despite the anger and resentment you should harbor, you’re so gentle. Even around Mango,” I chuckle, thinking of the cat I left snoozing on the sofa’s armrest.
Ravok’s lips twitch slightly, betraying a smile, “At first, I thought Mango was livestock.”
That makes me start giggling, and once I start, I can’t seem to stop. “You… thought Mango was… food?” I manage to wheeze out.
Ravok gives me a wide, sheepish grin. “My people don’t keep animal companions. I did think he was quite undersized. Hardly worth skinning for a meal, but you are a tiny thing so he might make a fine meal for you.”
I gasp in mock outrage before breaking character and start laughing. A giggle attack grabs me, and I can’t seem to stop. I finally get myself under control, giving Ravok a fond look.
“Well, you are not what I expected, but I’m glad you crashed into my life… Quite literally.” I smile softly, “I just wanted to tell you how… how terrific you are.”
My heart quickens as Ravok leans towards me. It’s like he has his own gravitational pull, his presence commanding all my senses. Snaking an arm around my waist, he pulls me closer. I don’t resist. I lean into him, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. He presses a kiss to my lips. It’s a gentle touch – almost exploratory. I feel a spasm of pleasure ringing loudly in my body, my mind zapping with electric delight.
Just as he starts to deepen the kiss, desire re-awakening in my body, I remember our unfinished task. With a reluctant groan, I pull away, my breath hitching.
“Ravok,” I pant, pressing a hand to his chest to still his movements. “If we start again, we’ll never finish fixing the ship.” I feel his large hand card through my untidy hair, his touch soft. A part of me – a relatively large part – yearns to dismiss the need to repair the spaceship and just lose myself in his embrace.
I expect him to resist, to argue, to coax me into continuing our kiss. But he only gives me a mischievous look filled with promises – before sitting me back in my chair. I hadn’t realized I had almost climbed into his lap. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards into a happy grin, lighting up his face in a way I’ve come to adore.
With a slight nod, he moves away, his silvery form turning back to his ship. He’s back to being the alien astronaut, the practiced mechanic, working on the tangled wires and blinking lights.
His blush – a color deeper than his usual dark silver tone, lingers on his face – betrays my alien’s usual stoic nature. A delightful sense of triumph fills me, softening the tingling disappointment of our interrupted kiss.
For now, this feels like enough.
As Ravok works, he seems to get engrossed in his work, but between the buzzes and humming that fill the garage, I start asking him questions. “Ravok, how did you get here… to Earth, I mean?” I look up at him, a question that’s been burning in my thoughts. It wasn’t every day you meet a silver-skinned alien with undeniable charisma. “I mean… did you mean to come down to the planet’s surface or did you wind up here by accident?”
“Coming to this solar system had been my mission…” he starts with that gravelly voice that sends untraceable tremors down my spine, “When I came out of cryo-sleep, I should have been on the very edge of this galaxy. However, when I awoke, the ship alarms were screaming. My navigation system had been damaged sometime while I was unconscious. As far as I can tell some space debris managed to get through the shielding. So, when I was woken by the ship, I had veered much too close to your planet and its gravitational pull had further pulled me off course. My ship’s sensor misidentified which planet I was near and calculated my trajectory using the wrong gravitation pull. I had to switch to manual override and made an emergency landing here. I hadn’t had enough time to cloak my entry into your atmosphere properly, so I believe that alerted your military. When the humans arrived, I fought to the best of my ability, but the sheer number of combatants overwhelmed me and took me captive.” The look on his face tells me not to ask any questions about what happened to him in my fellow humans’ care.
His features harden, and I can see the faint echo of anger flaring in his eyes, baring his struggles.
He must see the look I’m trying to mask because he says, “Leelee… It’s not your fault. You had nothing to do with it. It’s only because of you that I’m even here now. And I am grateful.”
Despite his reassurances, I can’t help but bear the pang of guilt. It was my species that caused him this pain. I cast about, hoping to change the subject before I start crying.
“So, you were coming to this solar system to do what? To assess my planet? Are you like a scientist or in the military?” It feels odd to broach the topic, but curiosity bubbles inside me.
“I’m a Cryzorian Outrider,” he answers with focused eyes still on his task. The apparent significance of the title escapes me, but I nod. His title sounds important. “I was trained to explore the universe, searching for resources to grow the strength of my people.”
“Ah, you’re kinda like a scout. And it was just you in this ship. You fly this ship alone?”
“Yes,” his lips curve into a slight smile.
