“Telrinite,” I repeat. I shrug because I’ve never heard of it – who knows if that’s because it doesn’t exist on Earth or because it has an entirely different name in my language. I feel a pang of helplessness claw its way into my chest.
Ravok gives me a determined look. “I will program my ship to scan the area for the alloy. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find some.”
“How long will that take?”
Ravok shrugs. “It depends on how far away any source of telrinite is. It will probably take a few hours, if not more.”
“Okay, that sounds like a plan. Once you set your ship to scan, let’s take a break, Ravok. I can heat up some more of the chili. We can get something to eat and drink and plan our next steps. We’ll figure this out, even if we can’t find the alloy you need,” I assure him, my words echoing in the quiet room. “Besides, both of us could use a shower.”
Ravok hesitates for a moment, then nods, setting aside the defective piece of alien technology. I can’t help but hope that our shared dinner might serve to lighten his spirits.
The hot waterfrom the shower works wonders on my stiff muscles, washing away the dirt, sweat, and, to some extent, the fatigue of the day. As I step out, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel, I feel lighter. I tie my wet hair up in a messy bun and pad into the main room to the sight of a very grimy Ravok.
He stands frozen by the doorway, his graphite skin decorated with dirt and dust. His clothes are almost as bad as mine were, stained with sweat and dirt.
My heart pangs with sympathy as I say, “Ravok, the shower is available if you want and there’s still plenty of hot water.”
His eyes light up at the suggestion. I guide him towards the bathroom and hand him a fluffy towel and a white sheet I find in the linen closet. “How ‘bout you give me your clothes, and I will wash them for you. You can wrap this sheet around yourself while they get clean since you don’t have any spare clothes,” I suggest.
Ravok’s eyebrows furrow as he fingers the sheet. “I have a spare spacesuit in the ship I could wear if you don’t want to wash these,” he gestures at the hoodie and sweatpants he’s wearing. “It’s meant for interstellar travel, but I could grab that, so you don’t have to rush cleaning my clothes for me.”
I blink at him in surprise and state, “You don’t need to do that. Plus, if anyone spots you, a spacesuit will draw too much attention, I think it’s better to keep you in regular human clothes, just in case.” Ravok nods in agreement, a pleased smile spreading across his face.
A moment after the bathroom door closes, separating me from Ravok, the sound of the shower starts. Then the door creaks slightly open, and a silver hand reaches out, dirt-streaked clothes balled up in his broad palm. When I take them, I hear a quiet “thank you” before the door closes again. I go to get the washer started, my heart echoing with the foreign rhythm of an alien ‘thank you’.
Pulling the containers out of the fridge, I prepare two bowls with the last of the chili. While it heats up, I pull out two of the largest glasses I can find and fill them with ice water. After all the hot, hard work today, I don’t want either of us to get dehydrated.
I’m poking around the fridge, wondering if I have enough lettuce and veggies to make a salad, when I hear the sound of the shower turning off. My hands still for a moment, caught on the mental image of Ravok naked in a steam-filled bathroom. I shake my head at my naughty thoughts and re-apply myself to the study of the fridge’s contents.
A few minutes later, Ravok emerges – clad only in the sheet.
The sight of him stops me dead in my tracks. With the sheet wrapped around his rugged form, he walks around the corner to join me in the kitchen, completely unaware of the devastating effect he is having on my composure. My heart flutters wildly in my chest, and I have the urge to fan myself. Droplets of water still glisten on his metallic skin in the soft, low lighting. Holy moly. He looks like a sexy toga-clad Roman emperor straight out of a fantasy novel.
Julius Caesar, eat your heart out.
I feel like I need to check the corners of my mouth for drool.
Thankfully, the ding of the microwave pulls my attention away from staring at Ravok like a dog with a bone.
When I grab the bowls to bring to the table, Ravok rushes over to help. Between the two of us, we balance bowls and cups as we make our way to the small rustic table that rests against the kitchen wall.
As we settle down to eat, I can’t help but let my gaze wander a little. My eyes are drawn to the scattering of precise scars that trek across Ravok’s broad chest. The sight shutters my growing desire like the final curtain on a play.
A tight knot resides in the pit of my stomach as I try to keep my wandering gaze focused fully on my meal. I take a bite of mychili, but it feels like it gets stuck as I try to swallow it. My throat feels constricted from nerves and dread.
“Ravok,” I finally force myself to begin after taking a sip of water to wash down the bite, glancing up at him from under my lashes, “The scars on your body… did… did humans –my people – do that to you?” The words tumble out in a rush, sharp like shards of glass slicing through the quiet as I point at a huge scar running the center line of his chest.
“Yes,” he answers simply, his gaze meeting mine, devoid of emotion. His response is a gut punch. Guilt and horror take root in my heart, done by the simple fact that my people have marred this magnificent alien being.
“Oh my god, Ravok. I’m so, so sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Leelee. You didn’t do this to me,” he says, his voice a low rumble that’s remarkably comforting.
“I know. But… my god! Humans suck. This is why you can’t stay on this planet. It is way too dangerous. What those assholes did to you… it’s horrific and cruel. You should have never been hurt like that.”
“My people – the Cryzorians – are just as dangerous as yours. More so, actually. I don’t want you to think less of me, but my people believe that they are superior to all other species in the universe. The Cryzorians’ ultimate plan is to conquer all of known space. We are taught from the moment we are born that Cryzorians are destined to rule over everything.”
“Might makes right,” I murmur. When Ravok gives me a questioning look, I explain, “Many humans throughout history have believed that power and strength meant they got to rule over the less powerful, even if they were cruel and amoral.” I take a deep breath, my fingers brushing along the grain of the table. “This belief,” I continue, “has led humanity down some very dark paths. Wars instigated for power, lives extinguishedfor no reason, actions so cruel they defy explanation, whole civilizations crushed under the tyranny of conquest. It’s happened over and over again on this planet. From Genghis Khan to Hitler to colonialism, so many have suffered. You can’t trust most humans, Ravok. Don’t get me wrong – there are so many good people out there. But there’s no real way for you – or me – to tell who you can trust.”
