Page 7 of Obsessed

I can't help but smirk. "Observant, aren't you?"

She flushes, her cheeks turning an interesting shade of pink. "Sorry, I didn't mean to... I've just never seen..."

"A Kaleidian before?" I finish for her. "Don't worry, I don't bite. Usually."

Her eyes narrow, and I see a flash of something—annoyance? Intrigue?—before she schools her features. "I opened your ship's hatch. It was jammed."

That explains how I got out so easily. "Thanks," I mutter, turning back to survey the damage. The ship's a mess, smoke billowing from multiple hull breaches. This is going to be a nightmare to fix.

"So," the human says, apparently not taking the hint that I'd rather be left alone, "what brings you to Meltor IV? We don't get many visitors out here."

I bite back a sarcastic retort. No need to antagonize the locals, especially when I might need help. "Just passing through," I say instead. "Ran into some... unexpected turbulence."

"Turbulence?" She raises an eyebrow. "That looked more like a firefight to me."

Sharp one, this human. I'll have to watch my step. "Let's just say I had a disagreement with some overzealous customs agents and leave it at that, shall we?"

She doesn't look convinced, but thankfully doesn't press the issue. "Do you need any supplies? My research station isn't far from here. I could?—"

"I appreciate the offer," I cut her off, "but I'll be fine. Just need to assess the damage and make some repairs."

I limp around my ship, assessing the damage. The hull's scorched and pockmarked, with gashes that expose sparking wires and twisted metal. The main thrusters are shot, and theport wing's barely hanging on. It's a mess, but I've seen worse. Maybe.

The human—Alice, she'd called herself—hovers nearby, her eyes darting between me and the wreckage. I can feel her curiosity radiating off her in waves.

"You know," she says, breaking the silence, "I've got some basic repair tools at my station. They might help."

I grunt, running my hand along a particularly nasty gash in the fuselage. "Unless you've got a fully equipped starship repair bay hidden in that jungle, I doubt it."

She crosses her arms, frowning. "I was just trying to help."

"And I appreciate it," I say, not entirely lying. "But this isn't something a few wrenches and some elbow grease can fix."

I make my way to the cargo hold, dreading what I might find. The door's jammed, of course. I brace myself against it, ignoring the protest from my injured shoulder, and push. It gives way with a screech of metal, and I stumble inside.

The cargo's there, thank the stars. The container's dented, but intact. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

"So," Alice says from behind me, "where exactly were you headed before your... disagreement?"

I turn, raising an eyebrow. "Curious little thing, aren't you?"

She shrugs, unapologetic. "It's not every day a mysterious alien crashes on my doorstep. Can you blame me?"

"Fair enough," I concede. "Look, I hate to ask, but is there a town nearby where I could get some help? Maybe hire a mechanic?"

Alice's expression shifts, a mix of amusement and sympathy. "I hate to break it to you, but there's no town. No mechanics. No anything, really. Just me and my research station."

I blink, processing this information. "You're telling me you're the only sentient being on this entire planet?"

She nods. "Afraid so. Meltor IV isn't exactly a tourist hotspot."

"Fantastic," I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. This job just keeps getting better and better.

Alice hesitates, then says, "I do have a long-range comm system at my station. You could use it to call for help if you need to."

I consider my options. Calling for help means involving others, which could complicate things. On the other hand, I'm stranded on a jungle planet with no way off and cargo that needs delivering.

"That... might not be a bad idea," I admit reluctantly. "How far is your station?"

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