Page 90 of Salvation for the Alien Mercenary
She set the band down and returned to the bunk, wincing as her side protested. As she settled back against the wall, a memory surfaced… Rettnor smashing her old gaming system during one of his rages, destroying the one thing that had connected her to a world outside his control.
"You don't need this," he'd hissed, his perfect composure finally cracking as he'd crushed the delicate hardware beneath his boot. "You only need me."
She shuddered. That was control…
Davis had never tried to isolate her. He'd encouraged her skills, her independence. Even his protectiveness came from a place of respect for her capabilities, not denial of them.
He was changing, yes, and becoming something neither of them fully understood. But beneath the alien eyes and increased strength, he was still Davis. Still the man who'd looked at her with such raw honesty in the observation lounge that night and admitted his feelings with none of Rettnor's calculated manipulation.
Spot chirped again, lights brightening as he settled against her leg.
"I've been running my whole life," she murmured as she stroked along the back of his casing. "From Rettnor. From decisions. From commitment."
The realization settled in her chest, a truth she'd avoided for too long. Years of Rettnor's control had taught her to equate dependence with danger. She'd kept people at arm's length, afraid of being trapped again, of losing herself in someone else's demands.
But there was a difference between dependence and connection. Between surrender and trust.
Davis had crossed boundaries, yes. Had made mistakes in trying to protect her from what he feared would drive her away. But he'd never tried to make her smaller, never attempted to reshape her into what he wanted. He'd accepted her… skills, trauma, and all, with a straightforward honesty that Rettnor had never possessed.
Spot's lights dimmed, then brightened in a slow, pulsing pattern. He extended his front appendage toward the door, then back to her.
"You think I should talk to him?" she asked.
The drakeen core chirped affirmatively, looking up at her.
She sighed, leaning her head back against the wall. "When did I start taking relationship advice from a battle robot?"
Spot made an indignant electronic noise, and she laughed despite herself.
"Sorry. You're right. You're more than that."
Just as Davis was more than the sum of his DNA. Or his genetics. And more than the transformation that had reshaped his body.
Making her decision, she stood. Fear had been her companion for too long, had kept her isolated and safe, but ultimately alone. Maybe it was time to try something different. It was time to stop running away and start running toward something instead.
Towardsomeone.
Her side ached as she straightened, but the pain felt distant now. She checked her reflection in the small mirror above her sink, wiping away the tear tracks she hadn't realized were there.
"Well?" she asked, glancing down at Spot. "Think I'm making a mistake?"
The drakeen core's lights brightened, and he circled her feet once before moving toward the door, clearly eager to be underway.
"All right," she said, releasing a breath she felt like she'd been holding for years. "Let's do this."
She gathered her courage as she moved toward the door. Whatever Davis had become, whatever challenges his transformation might bring, she was done letting fear dictate her choices.
She'd made her choice.
And it was Davis.
* * *
She wasn't coming.
Davis stood at the observation bay viewport, watching stars slide past as the Lady's Dream cruised through the sector. The ship hummed around him, vibrating through the deck plates and into his feet. His new senses picked up every subtle shift in the engines, every minute adjustment in course. The familiar sensation grounded him even as his altered body felt foreign.
He flexed his fingers, noting how the muscles in his forearms rippled with new density. Since his transformation had stabilized, he kept discovering changes... elevated senses, increased strength, the way his pupils contracted to vertical slits in bright light. Every day brought new reminders that he wasn't the man he'd been.
