Page 12 of Scars & Starlight
I look at Kairen from under my bangs to see him smirking confidently. “All assistive mech units are voice-activated,” he says mildly. “You would have to open the access plate to the control panel if you wanted to tinker with the settings manually.”
With that, I forget about my embarrassment. Imagine being the first engineer to take apart alien tech and study it!
“Really?” I ask. I hear my voice switch to that no-nonsense tone I used when explaining malfunctions to my chiefs at the power plant before the Ghorvek entered our atmosphere. “How is the panel opened exactly?” I wonder if alien machine guts look anything like human-made electronics.
As Kiko flinches back from my now-inquisitive touch, making a sad three-tone chirp, I remember that I’m thinking about dismantling a sentient being, whether it is living in the same sense we are or not. And what if I messed him up and couldn’t put him back together again? I’m horrible!
“Sorry, buddy,” I say quickly, lifting my hands up in a show of surrender. “The gear-head in me took over for a moment.” I turn to the tall alien. “Maybe you have a non-sentient piece of tech I could dissect?” I wonder if he’s even allowed to make that call. He might be the commander on this ship, but surely he answers to their version of a president and congress.
“Sure,” he surprises me by saying. “But first, I had a room adjusted to your ideal temperature and oxygen requirements. You should rest after the ordeal you had.”
Though I’m touched by his consideration again, I frown and shake my head. “I need to get back. I want to be there for Micah’s funeral and make sure the rest of the kids are okay.” I rub the center of my chest, the ache of grief making itself known again.
Kairen gives me a sad look before nodding. “It’s night-time in the part of the world you live in. Why don’t you rest here so we can discuss our cooperation once you’ve recouped?” His eyes shift curiously. “Then I’ll go down to the planet with you. We can bring a team to help with any repairs.” He’s interrupted by four insistent beeps. “And Kiko, of course,” he accedes, tipping his head at the little space chicken.
Despite my mental and physical exhaustion, I feel my lips stretch into a smile. He’s so… good. I get the urge to throw my hands around him and squeeze him tight. Then I’d feel what he’s hiding under that fancy uniform. My cheeks light up. I wonder what he’s going to wear tomorrow. That superhero exoskeleton armor that molded to his skin?
“Is that a yes?” He crosses his arms and tilts his head.
“I wouldn’t say no,” I mutter.
“Excuse me?”
I shake myself out of my brief fantasy. “Yes, I think we need a bed.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I mean, I need to sleep.”
“Mmm,” he muses, and although I can’t bring myself to look at his face, I hear the amusement in his voice. “Well, follow me, Princess.”
I think my entire body is one big blush.Princess?Even their pet names sound the same as on Earth.
Kiko beats me to it, his little legs working hard to catch up with the imposing commander’s stride. It doesn’t take long to reach an elevator. Of course, I don’t even feel its movement or acceleration. What is this sorcery? The urge to dig into the guts of this entire spaceship and everything in it makes my skin feel tight. I may be addicted to finding out what makes things tick. I don’t know if we went up or down, but it spits us out into a nearly identical hallway to the one we entered from. Where is the light even coming from? I can’t tell. It’s a pleasant blueish glow that makes me feel like I’m a mermaid in my own deep-sea kingdom, illuminated by glowing plants and animals.
“Here we are,” Kairen says when we slow down. The wall opens into surprisingly spacious quarters. There’s a sitting area, a large bed, and two doors leading to adjoining areas. “The doors lead to a cleaning chamber and nutrition station,” he explains when I approach them. My stomach rumbles now, reminding me I haven’t eaten for at least a day.
I spin to face the dark-haired extraterrestrial hunk. “How much time has passed since you brought me here?” I ask, dreading the answer. Have they buried Micah without me?
Kairen’s eyes flash silver. I wonder what the differentchanging colors mean. “By your measurement systems, it was Friday, the thirteenth of July, at ten in the morning.”
Kiko hops in place. “That means fifteen of your hours have passed,” he says with enthusiasm.
I can’t fight the smile that blooms on my face. “Thank you, sweetie,” I say, then remember Kairen provided most of the information. My face heats up as I look at him. “And… you,” I add before whirling around again to avoid his amused gaze. Peeking inside the ‘nutrition station’, I see exactly zero familiar items. “Soooo. You think I can eat anything here without croaking?”
When there’s no immediate reply, I look behind me to see that Kairen is too busy grinning at me to answer. Kiko chirps impatiently and starts speaking, but the alien cuts him off. “Our synth module can replicate any provision you need. Just tell me what you’d like and I’ll check if my ground teams have already provided us with the elemental composition. Whether you makefrogsounds or not is up to you.”
I gape at him, ignoring the joke over the more important message. “You mean making something out of nothing like in Star Trek?”
Kairen frowns. “I’m not quite certain what you mean, but it’s not from nothing. The Sovereign has an expansive storage hold of elements. The module would merely recreate a food item or meal at its optimal consumption stage.”
“That’s amazing,” I gasp, my eyes probably shooting out little bullet hearts. “Can I open it up?”
He’s back to smiling indulgently. “Why don’t you eat and rest first, then we’ll discuss the future and options for technological exploration.”
“Okaaay,” I acquiesce somewhat dejectedly. At the thought of food, I perk back up. “How about passionfruit cheesecake?”
He nods at first, then his eyes flash before he cringes. “That’s a poor nutritional choi–” When he notices my blank stare, he stops speaking. “One passionfruit cheesecake.”
I beam at him. “Okay, make it a slice instead of the whole cake. No, two!” I correct, vowing to make him try the poor nutritional choice of my dreams.
The sound of a fork hitting a plate makes me jump. Damnit, I missed it! Right there are two perfectly cut slices of cheesecake, elaborately drizzled with syrup and sprinkled with decorative crumbs. I debate asking him to make something else, just so I could watch it appear, but I don’t want to sound like a toddler changing her mind once the meal’s been prepared. Then I remember eating is a thirsty business. I grab the plate and don’t take my eyes off the area where it appeared when addressing the alien. “How about a strawberry milkshake?”
