Page 23 of An Alien for the Future

I am flying in uncharted skies here. No amount of military training can help me now. But I know myself. This is unlike me and that can only mean this female is special.

I just need to knowhowspecial.

If she is mine, if the gods have blessed me so, I will not stop until she knows it, too.

As the torrent begins to fade, the urgency within me grows. The rhythmic patter that has been my constant companion for two sols is lessening, and with it, my time here draws to a close. I know I should be relieved, eager to return to my work and continue the surveys with Arnak. Work has always been a solace in this unending nothingness. But as I lie here on the grass-feed, listening to the diminishing drops on the outbuilding’s roof, I can’t leave without knowing.

I need to know if this female belongs to me.

I push myself up, brushing away lingering bits of the grass-feed before I make my way to the large doors, pushing them open. The world outside is drenched, glistening with the aftermath of the torrents.

My gaze drifts to Donna’s lodge immediately, and I feel a pull in that direction. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I’m about to do. I’ve rehearsed this speech countless times during the long, lonely hors of the past sol. Now, it’s time to deliver it.

As I make my way towards the lodge, I run through the words once more. “Donna,” I practice under my breath, “I wanted to thank you for your kindness. My presence has been unexpected and perhaps unwelcome, but I…” I trail off. This is no good. The words sound hollow, inadequate.

I reach the lodge and pause at the door, my hand raised to knock. My core-beat is a wild fluttering thing in my chest and I take another deep breath to steady it before lifting a claw to the door.

I knock.

All that greets me is silence.

I knock again, louder this time. “Donna?” Still no response.

A strange mix of disappointment and relief washes over me. I want to see her again, but perhaps this will give me more time to perfect my speech.

I’m about to turn back to the outbuilding when I hear a distant sound. It’s faint, barely audible over the drip of water from the lodge’s roof, but it catches my attention. It sounds like…Donna?

Curiosity piqued, I follow the sound. It leads me away from the lodge, past the outbuilding, and towards the field. As I draw closer, I can make out words amidst the grunts and exclamations.

“Come on girl, you have to help me here!”

My core-beat flutters. It’s Donna, her voice strained. I quicken my pace, my rehearsed speech forgotten as I head in her direction.

I reach the edge of the field and the sight before me stops me in my tracks. The field has turned into muddy slush and in the middle of it all is Donna. She’s knee-deep in the wet earth, her clothes splattered. And she’s not alone.

Next to her, equally mired in the mud, is an enormous creature. So caked with mud it’s almost unrecognizable is an ooga, one of the large, docile animals that grazes out in these plains. This one, however, is far from docile. It’s thrashing about, clearly panicked, its thick legs churning up even more mud.

It’s gotten itself stuck.

“Listen, Gertrude, you gotta listen to me, girl. I’m trying to help you.” Donna braces against the large animal, trying to help it out of the pit it’s put itself in. “Come on, now. You’ve got this! You’re a strong, powerful woman. You are fiercer than you feel.Now, come on, find that inner goddess and pull yourself out of this hole.” She grunts, still bracing against the large animal. “You’ve got this, girl. Come on.”

I stare at her for a few moments, her words making humor rumble in my gut. She’s frustrated, that is clear, and still her voice is so encouraging even to this stubborn beast.

“You really are a gem, aren’t you.”

Donna whirls around, eyes wide in her mud-streaked face, and I realize I spoke those words out loud. “Tovan? How long were you—I didn’t hear you come up.”

I grimace slightly. I wasn’t being quiet intentionally. Just a result of years fighting a war that’s still haunting me to this day. I’m beside her now, the mud sucking at my boots with each step. “You look like you need help.”

The resigned look she’s had on her face the past two sols is nowhere to be seen. Maybe because I appeared so suddenly. Those wide eyes are staring at me with a sort of awe that makes me want to stand taller. But she recovers quickly, blinking it away. Her gaze falls to my foot and I wonder if I should have pretended to hobble. I didn’t even bring the staff she’d so graciously given me.

But I shouldn’t.

I don’t want to deceive her anymore.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” she says. “Your foot’s in the mud. Remember, your boot’s got a hole in it. Wouldn’t want you getting an infection now.”

See. There’s something special about this female. Or maybe I’m just an old sap, easily attracted to simple generosity.

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