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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kara passed the wrench to Thraxar, watching as he worked on the engine. His huge hands moved with surprising delicacy amongst the engine’s complex inner workings, each motion precise and purposeful. She’d been assisting him for nearly two hours now, and her respect for his technical abilities had grown with each passing minute.

“The calibration module should be in that small compartment,” he said, pointing to a nearby storage unit without looking up from his work. “The one with the blue marking.”

She went to get it, smiling down at Rory on the way. He was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, and he’d created a small arrangement of objects on the deck plating—bits of wire, small components, and colorful connectors that Thraxar had deemed safe for him to handle. He was completely absorbed in his task, humming softly to himself as he adjusted each piece with meticulous care.

She located the compartment and opened it, searching through the neatly organized contents. “I don’t see anything with a calibration label.”

Thraxar grunted and extracted himself from the access panel, wiping his hands on a cloth. “It’s about this big,” he indicated with his fingers, “with notched edges.”

They both turned toward a small sound from Rory. He was holding something up to the light—a small metallic object with precisely the dimensions Thraxar had described.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice neutral. “He must have found it earlier.”

She immediately tensed, memories flooding back of how others had responded to Rory taking things that caught his interest. One of the supervisors at the mining colony had tried to strike him for picking up a small tool. Even his own father had shown little patience for what he called Rory’s “inconvenient habits.”

Thraxar approached Rory and crouched down to his level, somehow making itself smaller, less intimidating.

“That’s a calibration module, Rory,” he said, his deep voice gentle. “It’s an important part I need to fix the ship. May I have it, please?”

Rory looked down at the object in his hand, then at his careful arrangement. He made no move to surrender the piece.

She stepped forward, ready to intervene, but Thraxar held up a hand to stop her.

“I see you’ve made a pattern,” he continued, studying Rory’s arrangement. “It’s very precise. The calibration module fits perfectly there, doesn’t it?”

Rory nodded slightly, his fingers tightening around the component.

“If I take this piece, your pattern won’t be complete anymore,” Thraxar acknowledged. “That would be frustrating.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object—a polished stone with similar dimensions to the calibrationmodule. “Would this work instead? It’s one of my favorites. From a river on Meraxis Prime.”

Rory examined the stone, turning it over in his free hand. After a moment of consideration, he carefully placed the stone in the arrangement, adjusted its position slightly, then held out the calibration module to Thraxar.

“Thank you,” Thraxar said with genuine gravity, accepting the component as if receiving a precious gift. “You’ve helped me fix the ship.”

Something tight and painful loosened in her chest. She blinked rapidly, turning away to hide the sudden moisture in her eyes. Such a small thing—this moment of patience and understanding—and yet so rare in their experience.

“You okay?” Thraxar asked, noticing her reaction as he returned to the access panel.

“Fine,” she managed, clearing her throat. “Just… thank you.”

He looked confused. “For what?”

“For being kind to him. For understanding.”

He frowned slightly. “I didn’t do anything special. He had something I needed, so I asked for it and offered a fair exchange.”

“You’d be surprised how many people can’t manage even that much,” she said quietly.

His expression darkened. “Then there are many fools in your species.”

She laughed, surprising herself. “Can’t argue with that.”

They worked together for another hour, falling into an easy rhythm. She handed him tools, held components in place when needed, and learned more about the ship’s systems than she’d ever expected to know. Rory continued his careful arrangements, occasionally looking up to watch them work, seemingly content in their presence.

“That should do it,” Thraxar announced finally, closing the access panel and securing it. “The stabilizer should function at optimal capacity now.”