My breaths came hard in my throat, my body still reeling from the fear of dying.
“What… What’s going on?” Ava said.
She blinked, coming awake.
Her voice was groggy, her movements slow.
And I couldn’t have been happier.
“We made it!” I said. “We’re still alive!”
My words didn’t mean anything to her.
She’d been unconscious during the entire event.
Her hair hung straggling over her face, her hands gripping the armrests in white-knuckled fists.
I ran a thumb down her cheek.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She frowned and slowly moved each part of her body to check.
“No. I’m okay.”
Suddenly overcome with emotion, I kissed her on the forehead.
She was still too groggy to notice it, much less respond.
I wiped the tears of relief from my eyes and got to my feet.
I took a deep breath and comported myself.
I got to live another day, although how long that day would last with the M’rora out there, I didn’t know.
He would be quick to capitalize on this opportunity, that was for sure.
I peered out the main monitor and made out dense forest foliage and blue skies.
We were alive.
And from a fall like that, that was something to be cheerful about.
Computer reeled off a long list of broken and disabled systems.
I shook my head and decided that for the moment, I didn’t want to hear about it.
I ordered him to set us down.
I shut him off and helped Ava from her seat.
She clutched my hand and used me to keep herself upright.
I liked the feel of her hands on me.
“Where are we?” she said.
“We’re on Qyah’an’ka. The planet beneath the solar storm.”
“Why are we here? I thought we were meant to hit warp speed and go somewhere safe.”
“That was the plan. Instead… something else happened.”
“What?”
“I’m not entirely sure. Computer told me we got struck by lightning. The fuel core must have reacted with it and knocked out our systems. We fell into the planet’s pull and almost crashed.”
“We did?”
Tears leaped into her eyes and, embarrassed, she turned her head away from me.
I was a little surprised by her response—after all, I had said almost crashed.
I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her close.
This time, she hugged me back.
We stood like that for ten minutes, maybe longer.
I gently rocked her and made soft hushing noises.
I had no experience with helping alien species deal with their emotions, but it appeared to do the trick as she quietened down.
She was so small and fragile.
I needed to protect her and vowed I would never let any harm come to her.
I felt the powerful pulse of the bond in my chest, turning stronger with each moment that passed.
We moved through the battered hallways toward the loading bay.
The hatch hissed open and bright sunlight blinded us as we stepped into it.
It felt good to have my feet on solid ground again.
Ava took my hand and never let it go.
The forest was dense and a myriad of alien sounds tapped at my senses.
They were alien even to me, although they plucked at my memories the more I heard them, like fragments from a distant dream.
“What happens now?” Ava said.
High above us, blinking and faded with distance, the solar storm continued to rage.
Perhaps it had intended on taking our lives, but it’d failed.
And the M’rora?
Would he descend and attack?
It wouldn’t be hard for him to track us down.
But if that was true, why hadn’t he done it already?
Was he biding his time?
I shook my head.
I didn’t think so.
It wasn’t how I operated, so it likely wasn’t how he operated either.
Perhaps the storm had affected his systems too.
It could have swatted him from the sky and rid me of him.
Wishful thinking.
He hadn’t been close enough for the storm to have that effect.
I would remain wary in case an attack came.
Until then, we would just have to play it by ear.
“We’ll repair the ship and continue on our journey,” I said.
But Ava wasn’t paying attention to me.
Her hand stiffened, crushing mine with surprising strength.
She stared in fear at something in the dense foliage.
I followed her sightline and found a creature concealed in shadows staring back at us.
The M’rora.
I stood between him and Ava, prepared to defend her till my dying breath if necessary.
“Please, don’t hurt him,” Ava said.
Her voice was so soft and pleading that it broke my heart to hear it.
The creature stepped from the shadows.
He was tall, broad, and muscular like all Qyah.
His horns were twisted and curled, black and shiny.
His eyes glittered and golden, reflecting the sunlight as if daring it to a duel.
He smiled and the wrinkles about his eyes curled upwards in a friendly manner.
“I’m not going to hurt him,” the Qyah said. “Just so long as he doesn’t hurt me.”
The blood drained from my face.
I gasped.
“That’s impossible…”
He was Qyah all right, but he wasn’t the one I was dreading.
He was much, much worse.
Ava
The walk to the Qyah’s farm was a leisurely one.
But after almost crashing and burning on an alien world, I wasn’t sure there was such a thing as a “leisurely stroll.”
The ship trailed behind us.
It listed to one side and had to constantly shift position to remain on track.
Its edge dragged along the ground and carved a deep furrow through the dense forest floor.
The anti-gravity thrusters no longer worked the way they should have.
The Qyah’s name was Yoath and he turned out to be very handy with tools.
His facial features were broad and harsh like he’d been carved from a single block of stone by a hammer and chisel.
His eyes were bright and golden and his smile was quick to ignite.
He reminded me a lot of Kayal but considering he was of the same species and I had no other creatures to compare him with, perhaps this was what all members of his species looked like.
Working with Kayal, they made short work of patching the ship up enough that it could float—just about—above the forest floor.
Night descended quickly on this planet and brought a chill with it.
It reminded me of the autumns back home when winter
