Finally, the back porch of the cabin comes into view, and for a moment, I allow myself to stop, panting heavily. I want to cry in relief when I finally spot the glow of lights from the windows. It’s taken me almost two hours to traverse what I walked in less than 10 minutes earlier. Stubbornly, I shake off the fatigue swamping me and finish the last bit of the journey. Once I reach the cabin, I step out of the rope and prop open the back door.
Carefully, I use the edges of the tarp material and carefully pull him off the mechanic’s cart. With a groan that makes me sound like a dying elephant, I begin to pull, each muscle straining under the weight. Dread pools in the pit of my stomach and I swallow a sob as the alien doesn’t budge. How am I going to get him inside? I’m out of strength. I sit on my ass in the doorway and try to catch my breath. I silently send up a prayer for help. I am so close, I just need a little more strength.
Taking a few minutes to rest, I stare at the alien. In the light coming through the open doorway, I can get a better look at his harsh face. Most people look relaxed when asleep, but this guy looks like he’s frowning, even unconscious.
Finally feeling as ready as I think I’m going to get, I grab the tarp again. I plant my feet on either side of the door jam and grit my teeth. Breathing out through my nose like a bull, I finally haul him up the singular step and into the mudroom.
I trip backward and fall as I get the upper half of his body through the back door. I lay on the floor, panting, with stars swimming before my eyes. I feel like I’m going to throw up.
Suddenly, the quiet is punctuated by a plaintive meow. I jerk upward, startled, only to find Mango perched on the top of the washing machine to my right, his bright eyes watching me with an almost eerie tranquility. Relief washes over me, replacing the adrenaline in my veins.
“Well, aren’t you just the king of the castle, watching your haggard subjects do all the hard work?” I pant, mustering a weak grin at my furry companion as I sit up.
I force myself to get off my ass and finish pulling the tarp until I finally get the alien safe inside. His body rests on the floor of the mudroom, his gunmetal skin standing stark against my makeshift tarp stretcher.
“Whew,” I breathe out. A sweat trickles down my forehead as I squint at my cat, “Now, let’s see what we can do for our guest here, Mango.”
CHAPTER 13
Ravok
Pain. It’s the first sensation that claws its way into my awareness, insistent and unyielding. The agony makes me wish for the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness, but I am not that lucky. Like miners digging through layers of bedrock, my nanites tirelessly work to repair the massive amount of trauma my body’s endured. I haven’t felt pain like this since the early days of combat drills with my training pod.
I struggle to open my eyes. It’s an almost insurmountable task, like lifting boulders instead of mere eyelids. When I finally manage to peel them open, sunlight floods my vision. I squint against its harshness, my vision slowly adjusting to the searing brightness.
I gaze at the unfamiliar surroundings. From the worn wooden surface under my body to the rudimentary construction of the dwelling, I realize that I am in a place that is primitive, even by human standards. I am laid out on the floor like discarded cargo, as though the humans who brought me here didn’t care enough to provide something more comfortable.However, I am relieved to realize that I am not back at the human military compound. Anything is better than that.
I find no signs of immediate danger. No armed humans are watching me with distrust and fear in their eyes. There is no sign of advanced security systems. I’m not even strapped down or secured in any fashion. No one even seems to be in the building with me.
I need to make my escape; to get back to my ship and assess it for damage. However, when I try to sit up, the pain is so overwhelming that my vision starts to darken. A low moan of agony slips from my lips before I can seal my mouth against any sound escaping.
I must accept that I cannot make my escape until I heal more. My nanites demand rest to expedite the healing process. Judging that I am safe enough for now, I let them pull me back into the merciful void of unconsciousness. Every thought, every sensation, slowly fades into nothingness as I lapse into a dreamless sleep.
A soft,melodic chirping noise rouses me from unconsciousness. My senses swim, awash with disorientation. At first, I think I am back on my home planet – a place I haven’t seen in years. The sound, so similar to the native Cularia birds that sing in the dense forests of my home, lulls me into a brief second of tranquility.
But as the threads of sleep begin to unravel, I realize the truth – it is not a Cularia I’m hearing, and I am not on Cryzor. I ignore the pang in my chest at the realization. My focus shifts, narrowing on the sound. I realize I’m hearing a human female’s voice, lilting and gentle. My translator must be malfunctioning,stealing my understanding of her words and rendering her voice into a simple melodic song.
Pain still ripples through my body, yet it isn’t as blaring as before. My nanites have been mending my damaged body while I rested. But they haven’t completed much yet, so I’m far from ready to challenge my captors.
Keeping my eyes closed, I pretend to still be unconscious, hoping this will allow me to glean more about my situation.
Moments pass as I listen to the woman’s soft voice. I strain my ears, listening for others, but she is the only voice I can discern. I lay still, mentally assessing the damage to my body. In silence and secrecy, I will heal, observe, and plot – the most familiar elements of my existence. All the while, her voice ebbs and flows around me, creating an unlikely atmosphere of serenity around the grim reality of the situation.
As the subtle vibrations of her steps grow closer, I narrow my eyes to thin slits. I need to see who my captor is. Through my limited field of vision, she steps into view. Small and vulnerable, her diminutive size surprises me, making her seem almost vulnerable. I’d only seen a few breeding Cryzorian females in my youth before I was sent on my mission. They had been large, fierce breeders selected for their superior genetics. My vague memories of my mother are similar, although I remember her touch and voice had been kind.
The female is tiny by Cryzor standards. For a moment, I wonder if she is a youngling, but I dismiss that idea quickly after a glance at her intriguing curves. She must’ve been the runt of her birth group, and I’m a little surprised her progenitors wasted resources to get her to adulthood. Her skin is the color of unripe pueriv, creamy and pale. Her hair is the color of deep, rich soil, with luscious curls that frame her face. Her features aren’t dissimilar from a Cryzorian’s, although her eyes are a remarkable swirl of brown and green. She has a tiny mouthframed by pink lips. For a non-Cryzorian, she is surprisingly captivating.
The human female is carrying a small, fluffy, orange creature in her arms, almost as if it were an offspring. The animal has four legs and a long tail and is covered in striped, orange fur. This female keeps her meat stock inside her domicile.
How primitive. Anddisgusting.
I have to force my face to remain expressionless as a grimace of distaste tries to twist my lips.
In my realm, we place our livestock in designated compounds where they belong. Not inside our abodes like some prized treasure. Do these earthlings essentially farm inside their homes? How utterly distasteful; it’s nauseatingly archaic. I force my features to regain their stoic composure, unwilling to alert her of my awakened state. Time, as I have learned, is the most powerful weapon I carry.
I lay still and watch the human female through slitted eyes. She maneuvers her way toward me, her cautious steps making me believe she fears me. Intriguing. Sheshould bescared to be in the presence of a Cryzorian warrior. I am capable of snapping her neck before she could even register it. Usually, that is; not in my current state, but my nanites will rectify that soon enough. I note the hints of trepidation in her movements and stark fright in her wide eyes. Yet determination overshadows her fear which piques my interest.
I close my eyes as she comes closer, not wanting to alert her to my awakened state.
