by K. A Knight
“It seems the yunret do not mind the human’s differences. Maybe they have not forsaken us, it seems they simply pick and choose who they wish to bond with,” Rilon muses out loud, watching as Ker plops down between my legs and rubs his head against my hip, nearly knocking me over.
“Ker,” I warn, dropping my hand to pet him.
“You have named him? Good, did the goddess bless it?” the jinum asks.
“Erm, no? I picked it because it sounded good?” I offer, wincing at how stupid that sounds when you say it out loud.
The aliens gasp again and the jinum frowns, his fangs peeking over the edge of his lips.
“Is that how the humans choose their names?” Rilon asks, interrupting us, and I look over at him.
“Yes, I guess it is.” I nod, stroking Ker’s head as he nudges me again for attention.
“Interesting,” Rilon mutters, typing furiously on his band.
“Rilon has told me you are leaving to make camp near your crashed ship. I have asked my people to gather some supplies. Rilon, Wrenil, Opian, and Rhet will accompany you,” the jinum offers.
“Thank you, jinum.” I bow my head slightly, scratching Ker’s head before I let go.
The aliens surrounding me head back to work with a few last looks at Ker and me before they go, staring us when they don’t think we are watching.
“The supplies are ready and I have messaged the others as you wished, jinum. With your blessing, I will leave with the humans now and get them to their crashed ship so they may begin setting up camp before the suns set and the hunters come out.”
I turn to the other survivors who have stopped a few steps back, watching us like I’m not part of them anymore. “Let’s go,” I yell.
The trek back to the crash site is quiet, everyone is still beyond tired, and I think the shock of crashing and meeting the aliens has worn off. Rilon, Wrenil, Opian, and Rhret accompany us, but they follow behind, keeping a space between them and us. It’s obvious both races are feeling tense and awkward with this new development. I linger at the back of the crowd with my men around me, and Ker moving through the trees next to me. Dropping back even more, I slow down to Rilon’s pace, using this time to get some answers, and ignore the excitement and dread curling in my stomach at seeing Effie.
His head tilts my way but his eyes stay on the screen as he continues to type on his armband, throwing looks at the humans. It seems like he is collating data, which makes sense if he is observing humans and trying to understand us—aren’t we doing the same to him? But from our side, there is some hostility, while theirs is pure innocent curiosity.
“How long have you been on this planet?” I ask, remembering snippets of conversations I heard. They are a colony mission, so it makes sense there was a planet before this one.
“Around five years, our planet was destroyed in the great war. We were classed as the scientists and thinkers, it makes us a target and we were unprepared. We are peaceful, they were not. They nearly wiped us into extinction before we escaped into space, only to watch our planet be destroyed. A black hole creator, one of our own designs, was used against us. The GPC took us in as refugees, and it took us over a year before they located a suitable planet for us. From there, we set up a colony, our aim to live in peace with nature and the occupants already here. We want no war or part in it, we just wanted to live in peace,” he says matter-of-factly, like he is reading from a history book, but I can sense the pain in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, not knowing what else to say.
“Why? Why do you say you are sorry? It is not your fault?” he inquires.
I throw him a scathing look, thinking he is being harsh, but when I look at him he looks genuinely confused. “It is what people say to convey their shared grief and pain with that person,” I explain.
He muses it over before typing on his arm again. “It is unusual but makes sense, thank you,” he answers distractedly.
I look back at the survivors to see Barrott and Cain watching me closely, slowing down so they are almost by my side. I smile, but Rilon’s words cut through it, bringing my attention back to him.
“Humans, do they mate for life? Do you have more than one partner? There are races which are…poly, are you one of them?” Rilon questions, almost making me choke.
“Erm, no—not really. We either tend to marry a person of our choosing of either sex, or live without a partner,” I add, my cheeks heating at being caught.
“Marry?” Rilon stops and asks.
“It means a way to bind yourself to someone for the rest of your life that’s recognised by the government,” I reply, stumbling over the dissection of something so basic in our society.
“Hmm, we have mating, which I guess is similar to your ‘marry,’ but we believe it is chosen and blessed by the goddess,” he offers, sharing more about his culture and race.
“Your mating, ‘marry,’ to these men is unusual then, yes? More than one?” he presses, but I sense no judgement again, just simple curiosity.
“Er-erm-no-I,” I stumble, unsure how to describe what I don’t even know myself. Rilon stops typing and looks over at me.
“You love them? You don’t want them to be mated to anyone else?” he continues, his logic staring me in the face.
I look over at my men and nod before realising he won’t understand it. “Yes,” I say softly.
“Then it is simple—you love them. You mate them, simple,” he concludes, before dropping his arm and walking by my side without typing. He leaves me to my thoughts, his words tumbling around in my head…is it really that simple? Am I overthinking this? I know it’s not a traditional relationship, but ignoring the societal expectations and issues with it…I want it. I want them.
“Look, it’s the ship!” I hear one of the survivors yell, and murmurs spread through the crowd as we stop at the crest of the hill overlooking the crash site of the Dawnbreaker.
Ground Day Four
Once we are faced with the devastation of the ship, the survivors freeze and I do a double take, remembering how I felt the first time I saw it. Right now, they need hope and to keep moving, to have something to focus on, but no one steps up and I realise that they have no leaders or uppers in their midst apart from Cain. There’s no one to take charge, and faced with their own mortality and trauma, they are lost. Sighing, I give Rilon one last look before clapping loudly. It startles them into looking over at me.
“We need to get camp set up before dark, there are things out here that aren’t safe, and we need shelter from the elements and a base for other survivors to find. Any engineers or builders in the group?” I ask, and they look around at each other, unsure why they are taking orders from a teenager, but at my expectant look they slowly start to raise their hands. “Okay, go through the wreckage and start building the structures for camp. We need others to look for bedding, food, and supplies.” People put their hand up and I nod. “Good, we need some bathrooms somewhere?” Someone grumbles but two people put their hands up. “Okay, the rest can start clearing debris from the camp and making it safe, I would also suggest adding a border or some kind of early warning system?” I look over at Barrott, suddenly unsure, and when he steps to my side I see some relieved faces among the colony members. They all know Barrott and trust him, and the fact that he looks to me and stands at my side obviously makes them feel more comfortable with my requests.
“Yes, Riley, Ren, and I will start a perimeter and assign guard shifts just in case and to help spot survivors. We will need some people to swap with us so we can get sleep.” A few men raise their hands and he nods. “Good, let’s get started, shall we? We are burning daylight.” With that, he turns, winks at me, and heads straight over to the aliens standing awkwardly at the edge of the treeline. The humans watch, and I know his actions shows his trust in the aliens, and therefore the survivors trust his judgement.
It doesn’t take us long to find a rhythm after that, and I help in every way that I can, but when the
aliens start to help I find myself playing translator and answering questions from the survivors. It seems they have deemed Barrott and myself as the people in charge for now, the looks and expectations chafing on me. My every move is scrutinized and I can feel ears close by as I communicate with Rilon and the others, most of the other aliens are pretty silent and stick to themselves, helping when they can—silently lifting debris, and holding and transferring from the wreckage. At first the survivors were hesitant, but the more we work side by side, the more they relax, and even start to talk and laugh as we labour.
“I found something,” an out of breath man puffs, and I turn as he stops next to me. I throw a look at Barrott, who is talking with Riley and some men at the border, before following after the man who leads me to an opening in the side of the hull where men are passing down giant red bundles.
“What are they?” I ask, confused.
He smiles over at me, his front two teeth crooked and slightly yellow. “Tents, not those old scrappy kind, but the new improved kind. They must have been for new accommodation when we reached Ayama until our homes were ready.”
I share his grin, knowing that’s a good find. “That’s amazing, how many do we have and how many do they hold?” I inquire, counting the number of survivors in my head.
“There are ten tents and they can hold up to fifteen people at a push,” he replies.
“Okay, put them up in the clearing sheltered by the side of the hull, it should keep them protected and make them easier to watch from the border,” I muse, and he grins before saluting me.
“Aye, aye, captain,” he jokes, before rushing over to the men and shouting orders.
“Inds, come here!” Barrott shouts. Making sure they are okay with the tents, I hurry over to where he waits for me with one of the other aliens and Riley.
“What’s up, buttercup?” I joke, stopping beside him.
His lips twitch and I squeal as he pulls me to his side, wrapping his arms around my waist as he drops his head on top of mine. Riley winks at me and I grin.
“We need a translator, Inds,” he informs me, and I lean back into him, loving his warmth around me even though I should pull away.
“Sure, what do you need translated?” I ask, eyeing the purple alien who I remember Rilon introducing me to as Rhet.
“We are trying to sort out some type of protection, a tripwire or something, but we want his advice,” Barrott explains, and my heart melts for my grumpy stalker man, knowing he is going that extra mile to create peace after I asked him to.
I nod and look at Rhet. “He is asking for your help, Rhet. Do you have any advice for setting up some kind of security perimeter?” I inquire. The purple alien glances at me from where he was watching the hustle and bustle of the camp, and offers me a closed lipped smile.
“Thank you for remembering my name. As far as security measures go, we don’t have any, so I’m afraid I would be next to useless.” I sigh, disappointed, but he throws one of the larger aliens, who is surveying the camp from under the shade of a tree, a look. “Wrenil might have some ideas, although we are peaceful, he dabbles in protection software and is a skilled inventor of weapons and tracking systems for the TGP,” he suggests, giving the information freely, and it only highlights our differences. Where we would hide and bluff that information, he simply gives it.
“Thank you, I will ask him.” I grin and turn to Barrott, but Rhet’s voice stops me.
“Be…careful. Wrenil lost more than most when our planet was destroyed, he is not as welcoming as us.” He goes back to watching the camp and I hesitate before nodding.
“What did he say?” Barrott questions, looking annoyed that he can’t understand the language.
“He said he doesn’t know anything, but Wrenil, the big blue alien over there, will be able to help. I’ll go grab him, wait here.” I lean up and drop a kiss on his cheek, before sliding from his arms and heading across the camp. I get stopped with a couple of questions every now and again, but I eventually wind my way through the camp to where Wrenil stands in almost isolation from both our kind and his. Ker is lazing in the tree he is leaning against, and I throw my cat stalker a smile before focusing back on the alien in question.
I stop a couple of meters away, not wanting to invade his space, and wait for him to acknowledge me. When he doesn’t, I clear my throat. “Wrenil?” I call softly, unsure.
He glances at me, but doesn’t move from leaning against the tree, something in his look makes me hesitate. Like he is warning me away, and I see the truth in his eyes, he is wound tight, and he’s angry and sad…he’s grieving. Only a person who has experienced such tragedy and personal grief can recognise it in another, and in this moment when our gazes clash, I see my own demons in this alien. Rhet mentioned he lost more than most…whom did he lose?
I personally know that you don’t want pity, or looks, or to be treated like glass, so even though I want to reach out and tell him I understand, I don’t. “Could you help us, please?” I ask politely.
He doesn’t move an inch, his stillness making me uneasy. “Rhet suggested you would be the best to ask on how to secure the perimeter?” I try again, but I get just more blank looks. “I can just keep talking, I’m especially good like that, not as good as Effie but still pretty good,” I blather on, until he pushes away from the tree. Without a word, he walks past me, heading over to Barrott and Rhet.
I linger around, making sure they are getting on okay, before moving back through the camp, and offering a helping hand wherever I can. Two hours later, we call a break for lunch. We pass around rations of food and water, and the survivors huddle near the ship as we all watch the aliens head into the forest, only to come back not five minutes later with some round looking fruit. They head our way and sit down opposite, cracking open the fruit and eating it with their fingers. I hear some disgusted noises among the humans, but I’m curious.
The outside is bright purple and slightly furry, while the inside is black. Rilon catches me looking and passes over a half. “Try it,” he encourages.
Taking it hesitantly, I dig out a tiny bit with my fingers and taste it. My eyes close in bliss and I groan out loud. “It tastes like chocolate,” I whisper, my eyes opening to see most of the aliens grinning.
“I really want to joke about that noise she just made,” Cain remarks from next to me. I wink at him before digging another bit out with my fingers and offering it to him. I expected him to take it from me, but instead he keeps eye contact, all humour fleeing his face, as he holds my fingers, leans down, and sucks the fruit from them. Gulping, I watch as he pulls back, his eyes closing in bliss before he looks at me.
“Delicious.” He winks.
“Don’t make me hit you,” Barrott warns from my other side.
The moment is broken and I roll my eyes, ignoring the heat that intimate gesture created within me. Turning to face Barrott, I offer him the fruit, but he shakes his head and goes back to his brown packet of rations. I look over at Eldon and Auden and offer it to them. Auden crooks his finger my way, making me grin. Shuffling closer, I pass it to him but I squeal when he grabs me and deposits me in his lap, and passes the fruit to his brother.
“Awww, look, I caught an Indy. I think I’ll keep her,” he jokes.
Eldon laughs and looks at me as he nibbles on the alien fruit, then leans closer, almost whispering in my ear. “I’d rather be tasting you,” he admits, and I choke as he pulls back casually and goes back to eating.
Are they all trying to kill me?
“What? One man isn’t enough?” I hear whispered, and my eyes rise to meet those of a judgemental woman and her friend before they turn away with a sneer. Properly chastised, I wiggle in Auden’s lap, trying to get away, but his arms just tighten as he whispers in my ear.
“Ignore her, she’s just jealous,” he says softly, but the damage is already done.
“Let me go, please,” I reply, and he hesitates before unwinding his arms and releasing me.
; Standing up, feeling unsure, I wrap my arms around myself and look to Barrott, knowing my rock will see what I’m feeling and know what to do. And I was right. He climbs to his feet and claps loudly.
“Alright, back to work, we have around six more hours until nightfall—get moving!” he yells and I offer him a strained, grateful smile.
Turning without looking at anyone, I head into the hole in the ship alone to look for supplies, and give myself a moment to recover from the embarrassment and mortification rolling through my body. I need to be careful, it doesn’t matter what Rilon said, the survivors are watching me…watching us, and I can feel their judgement from here. It’s even worse than on the ship, with no walls to hide behind now, and that worries me because I don’t want to pull away from any of them…but I have to. Don’t I?
The section of the ship they have been working in is pretty much cleared, but I want some space to think so I head deeper into the hull, ignoring the holes in the floor and walls until I find a closed door. I spot the crowbar next to it and use it to heave open the door, jamming it in so it doesn’t trap me inside. Unlike the destruction outside, this place is fairly okay. No holes, fires, or explosions, just a mess from where everything has fallen. Picking through the items, I head to the sofa and sit down, laying my head on the back and staring up at the metal ceiling.
Everything used to be a lot less complicated, but here, on this planet, it’s all pilling up. The responsibilities, the relationships, which I can feel and know the men are pushing for, not to mention all the stress of crashing. It could be due to a lack of sleep and being overly tired, but I feel tears filling my eyes and I wish for nothing more than for my parents to be here, holding my hand and telling me everything is going to be alright…but they aren’t. When I close my eyes and try to think of them, I can barely even see them anymore. Are their edges blurring, am I forgetting what they looked like, felt like…smelled like?
