Page 13 of Legacy for the Alien Warrior

He gave her a long look, and she could tell he was about to dismiss the idea.

“You should at least try,” she insisted.

“Why? I will only be disappointed.”

“Because maybe you won’t be. Maybe you’ll find your mate.” She reached across the table and placed a gentle hand on his arm. His tail came up to cover her hand. “And then you would have a legacy.”

Something stirred in his eyes but he shook his head. “It is not possible. I must accept that fact.”

“You sound as if you prefer that.”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No, but I have grown accustomed to my solitary existence.”

“Me too,” she admitted. “Although I have Rory, of course.”

He followed her gaze to where her son was finishing his meal, then looked back at her.

“Then you understand. We have survived, even if our lives are not ideal.”

No, her life was not ideal, but for the first time in months, she felt safe. It was a dangerous feeling—too much like hope—but she couldn’t resist the warmth that spread through her as she sat there, eating the food Thraxar had prepared for them, in the safety of his ship.

He cleared his throat and his tail slipped away from her hand, leaving it oddly cold.

“How long until we reach the Patrol station?” she asked, changing the subject to something more practical.

“Approximately three standard days at current velocity.” He tilted his head slightly. “We are taking an indirect route to avoid the mining corporation’s security vessels. There is no reason for them to approach me, but better to avoid the possibility.”

Three days. Three days of uncertain safety before facing whatever waited at the Patrol station. Would they really help her and Rory return to Earth? Or would they just become someone else’s problem?

“What do you do during these journeys?” she asked. “When you’re alone for days between stops?”

He shrugged. “I train every day. I perform maintenance tasks. Sometimes I work on small items to sell. And I read.”

“Read?” The word emerged wistfully despite her attempt to sound casual.

“You sound surprised.”

She ducked her head, suddenly self-conscious. “I just… I wish I could read more than the few medical terms I managed to pick up. The translator doesn’t extend to written language.”

His expression darkened before he abruptly rose from the table and disappeared. She stared after him in dismay. Had she offended him somehow? But he returned a moment later with a sleek rectangular device.

“A standard datapad,” he explained, handing it to her. “It contains a comprehensive learning component for Galactic Standard. Most spacefaring vessels carry them for communication purposes.”

She stared at the device, unexpected tears threatening to surface. Such a simple thing, but it meant so much to her

“Thank you,” she said, her voice shaky.

She activated the pad, and he showed her how to access the language interface. Excitement fluttered in her chest as she navigated through the simple opening exercises. Meal finished, Rory leaned against her and watched the screen.

“This says ship,” she said softly, pointing to the word and tracing the characters with her finger, then repeated it in English. “Can you remember that? Ship.”

Thraxar observed them, his head tilted slightly. “Why do you repeat the words to him? Does he not understand?”

“He understands more than people realize, although he sometimes needs language input in different ways.” She hesitated, watching Rory trace the letter, then added, “He also doesn’t have a translator.”

“What?” he growled.

“The Vedeckians didn’t think it was worth giving him one since he doesn’t speak.” She managed to keep her voice steady, though the memory still burned.

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