Page 25 of Legacy for the Alien Warrior

Sleep eluded him that night. He spent hours in the cockpit, watching the stars streak past, trying to prepare for the repair to be made rather than the memory of her hands against his chest and her mouth beneath his. By the time the ship’s lighting shifted to simulate dawn, he had managed to convince himself that the incident had been a momentary lapse, nothing more.

He would maintain his distance. He would complete the repairs. He would deliver them to the Patrol station as promised. Then he would return to his solitary existence, and the strange, unsettling feelings would fade.

The cockpit door slid open with a soft hiss.

He turned, expecting Kara, his carefully prepared speech of polite detachment ready on his tongue. Instead, Rory stood in the doorway, his oversized coat wrapped around him like armor.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice rough from lack of sleep.

Rory didn’t respond verbally—Thraxar had learned not to expect it—but he padded forward on silent feet until hereached the co-pilot’s chair. He climbed into it, his movements deliberate, then settled with his legs folded beneath him.

For several minutes, they sat in silence. Rory’s fingers traced patterns on the armrest, back and forth, back and forth. The repetitive motion should have been irritating. Instead, Thraxar found it oddly soothing, like the rhythm of waves against a shore.

The boy seemed content in the silence, asking nothing, demanding nothing. His presence was simultaneously unobtrusive and profound—a contradiction that Thraxar couldn’t quite understand but found himself appreciating nonetheless.

“We’ll be arriving at the trading post soon,” he said eventually, not expecting a response but feeling compelled to speak anyway. “It’s called Neralda. Not as large as some, but they have decent repair facilities.”

Rory’s fingers continued their pattern, but his head tilted slightly toward Thraxar, an indication that he was listening.

“The repairs shouldn’t take more than a day. Then we can continue to the Patrol station.” He adjusted their course slightly, the ship responding with smooth precision. “Your mother will find help there.”

At the mention of Kara, Rory’s eyes flicked up to Thraxar’s face, studying him with that peculiar intensity that seemed to see beyond surface appearances. He wondered, not for the first time, how much the child understood.

“Good morning.”

Kara’s voice from the doorway sent a jolt through his system, but he kept his eyes fixed on the navigation display, not trusting himself to look at her directly.

“I woke up and he was gone,” she continued, moving into the cockpit. “I should have known he’d find his way to you.”

Thraxar risked a glance then. She looked tired, dark smudges beneath her eyes suggesting she’d slept no better than he had. Her hair was pulled back from her face, emphasizing the delicate structure of her cheekbones and the determined set of her jaw.

“He’s been no trouble,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “We’ve been… sitting together.”

She nodded, moving to stand behind Rory’s chair. Her hand rested on her son’s shoulder, a casual touch that nonetheless conveyed deep connection. “He likes you.”

“I’ve done nothing to earn such regard.”

“That’s not how it works with Rory.” Her smile was small but genuine. “He sees things in people that others miss.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he turned back to the controls. “We’re approaching Outpost Neralda. We should be docking within the hour.”

“And you think it is safe?” The protective edge in her voice was immediate.

“Safe enough. It’s a legitimate trading post, not a smuggler’s haven. The station security is adequate.” He gestured toward the viewscreen where the station was now visible—a sprawling structure of interconnected modules orbiting a small, barren moon. “You and Rory can remain on the ship while I arrange for the repairs.”

“Actually,” she said, scooping up Rory and sitting back down with him in her lap. “I’d like to help with the repairs if I can.”

His surprise momentarily overrode his determination to maintain emotional distance. “You have engineering experience?”

“Not at all. But I’m good with my hands, and I learn fast.” She shrugged, a casual gesture that somehow made her seem younger. “I had to figure out how to fix the medical equipment at the mining settlement. Grentz wasn’t going to waste creditson replacement parts if he could help it, and even if he agreed, it took forever for this to arrive.”

The image of Kara bent over delicate medical instruments, teaching herself complex repairs with limited resources, fit perfectly with what he already knew of her resourcefulness. Still, he hesitated.

“The system is quite complex.”

“I don’t expect to redesign it. But I can hand you tools, hold things in place, and follow basic instructions.” Her eyes met his directly for the first time since entering the cockpit. “I’d rather be useful than sit around waiting.”

The intensity of her gaze made his skin warm. He looked away, focusing on the approaching station.

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