“And how long have you been an Outrider?”
“Most of my adult life,” he replies without turning his gaze from the tangled web of alien technology, “years at this juncture.”
“Do you… enjoy it? Flying around, I mean?” My words hang in the air momentarily before he carefully disengages a contraption that hums a disapproving tune.
“Enjoyment…” Ravok says slowly. He sits back on his heels, pausing as if confused by the question or needing to think about it. “There are parts of being an Outrider that I would consider enjoyable. I like seeing new sights, new corners of the universe. But ‘enjoyment’ is not a part of my objective. It was nothing I even thought to seek.” After a brief pause, he adds, “My primary concern was to secure a rich and resourceful planet for my people in hopes of a promotion. However, I suppose if I really think about it. No, I did not enjoy being an Outrider. It is just what I was assigned to do. It could be… lonely.”
His honesty leaves me silent for a moment. Something about the lost look in his eyes makes my heart hurt for him. It sounds like he has spent most of his adult life in a tiny spaceship, alone in the vastness of space.
“Why did you choose to be an Outrider?”
Ravok looks up sharply from the ship’s innards as if checking to see if I am joking. He huffs a small, almost-amused breath when he realizes I asked my question earnestly. “I was not given a choice. I was tested for my strengths and weaknesses in conjunction with my people’s needs. I was chosen to be an Outrider because I was considered patient, mentally strong enough to withstand the pressures of long space travel, and capable of problem-solving on the fly – a necessary trait when coping with the unpredictable challenges inherent in interstellar exploration. I was warned that weakness can emerge in bouts of mental sickness. The vast, unending space has led some weaker Outriders to abandon their mission. However, I now believe that they, like me, found other species that opened their eyes to all of Cryzor’s flaws. They realized that Cryzor’s plan to erase all other cultures and species is wrong.”
“If you could do anything, anything at all in the vast scope of the universe, what would it be?”
He looks at me, his alien features still foreign yet in a weird way, familiar. His white eyes seem to turn inwards in thought before he turns his attention to the wrench-like tool in his hand.
“I do enjoy doing maintenance on my ship. I like working on something I can touch, something I can improve and make better.”
I watch his face subtly light up as he turns the tool in his hand, his affection for his ship and tinkering clear as day.
“You like to fix things, yeah? You enjoy working with your hands.”
He gives me a curious look. “What would you do if you could choose anything?”
I take a moment before answering.
“I love being a nurse, Ravok, I really do,” I start, tracing one of the scars on his arm, a relic from my people if the suture marks are any indication. “I like being able to help people. But if I had to choose something else, I would cook. Maybe run a food truck or work as a caterer.”
His odd eyes flicker in delight as he catches my hand that is still absently tracing a scar and brings it to his lips to kiss my hand. I can feel the grin he gives me against the thin skin of my knuckles. “Your cooking is so good that people would probably line up for hours to eat your food. I know I would.”
I’ve never blushed so damn much in my life, but here I am, cheeks blazing once again. “My cooking isn’t all that, but… thank you. I’m really glad you enjoy it.”
His grin widens, the charcoal gray skin around his eyes crinkling.
My returning smile slips from my lips as something occurs to me. I’m unsure if I want to know the answer to this question. However, something hesitant and almost ashamed in Ravok’s demeanor when I asked about his job as an Outrider suddenly makes me wonder. “Hey… Ravok. You don’t have to answer this, but I feel like I must ask. You said you are sent to find resources for your people as an Outrider. That’s why you were here on Earth, right? So, what happens to the planets that have resources your people want? What will happen to my planet if we’re discovered? I have to warn you that humans aren’t usually good with civilizations that are different than ours. Historically, we’re not even good with our own people who might be just a little different. If your people revealed themselves to mine… A lot of people would welcome you guys with open arms, but you can’t trust humans. Many, many people will see you and your people as evil or a threat. Look at what some of my people did to you.” I trace my finger over his scar one more time before withdrawing my touch, feeling like I don’t deserve to touch him.
“We are a threat, Leelee.” Ravok pauses, blinking rapidly, staring at the scar that I had been touching. Then he looks up at me, freezing me in place with the intensity of his stare. “If my people learned about this planet, they would drain it of everything. Your people would be decimated by the time Cryzor was done here. If anyone survived at all.”
I feel stricken by Ravok’s words.
He snatches up my hand, pressing fervent kisses to my knuckles. “Never. I will never let my people find this planet, Leelee. Meeting you and realizing that my people are wrong has changed me forever. I will never let my people know about Earth. I plan to mark this entire solar system as a waste of fuel with no resources of value. I can’t give your people, or any sentient beings, to the Cryzorians to destroy. Now that I’ve realized how wrong my people are, I plan to find as many planets with intelligent life as possible and falsely mark them as resource-poor. I will protect as many as I can.”
I hear the vow in Ravok’s voice. I look at him, not just an alien anymore, but a protector across galaxies, willing to defy his own people’s ruthless quest for expansion. I can’t help but marvel at his resolve, his courage reminding me why, against all odds, I’ve found myself falling for this extraordinary being.
“Will it seem weird to your people that you don’t find any planets with resources? Once your tour of duty is done, will that cause you problems?”
“Planets with the resources that Cryzorians are searching for aren’t that common so if I don’t find any, it shouldn’t cause any alarm or raise unnecessary questions within the Cryzorian council.”
A yawning ache fills my chest at Ravok’s plan. I don’t like the idea of him heading out into the universe, a lone alien trying to save other planets from his people. However, it’s not my place to tell him what to do. Even if I kinda want it to be.
CHAPTER 40
Ravok
“Idon’t feel like cooking, but we could make sandwiches. They’re easy and quick.”
My translator doesn’t give me a distinct interpretation, so I assume there is no equivalent to ‘sandwiches’ in my language. I’ve never heard of it before - the food here on Earth is as alien to me as I am to her. “Sandwiches,” I echo her, intrigued. “Everything you make is delicious so I’m sure I will enjoy it.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s just thin sliced meats and cheese in bread. I made something similar just the other day. They’re simple and quick.”
Anything she prepares, regardless of its simplicity, has thus far proven to be delectable. So, I merely bob my head, showing my consent. I’m not at all worried about the food. Being in her company is the real reward. And I plan to absorb as much enjoyment of Leelee’s presence while I can. Her earlier words make me realize that she believes that I will probably never return to my planet. My time as an Outrider rolls before me, endless. I could secure a promotion if I found enough resources for my people. However, since I plan to never ‘discover’ a resource-rich source for my people, I will spend the rest of my life in the confines of my ship. Until such time that my people decide to decommission me.
I don’t plan to let that happen – I’ll fly my ship into a star before I return to Cryzor. So, I will soak up every moment with Leelee to carry with me for however days I have remaining. She will be the torch that lights my days and illuminates my path toward salvation. And she will never know. I can’t possibly ask her to carry this weight with me. It is my atonement – and my honor.
Seeing her move about the kitchen, I offer my assistance – any excuse to stay near. She gives me a pleased smile, which is all I need.
I follow Leelee’s lead as we assemble the sandwiches: thin slices of cold meat, cheese, and green crunchy leaves between slices of soft bread.
Despite knowing better, I strangely feel I am where I belong. I am aware that this is just a passing moment of tranquility – doomed to be over before I want it to be. However, despite my knowledge of its fleeting nature, the moment comes with a sense of peace, a sense of serenity that my life has seldom afforded.
Sitting across from Leelee, I watch her take the first bite of her sandwich. Her small, white teeth sink into the bread, creating a circular indent. She hums a soft sound of approval as she chews. Her appreciation for the simple meal kindles a warmth within me that fuels me more than any calories ever could.
I mimic her movements, taking a much larger bite of my meal. It is delectable, of course. Leelee made it sound as if it was going to be unpalatable. I take another bite, allowing the flavors to mingle on my tongue before swallowing. “Leelee, this is delicious. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So… do you still think you’ll have the ship repaired in a week? Do you think you can fix it?”
