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CHAPTER ELEVEN

K ara 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 calibration module. “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.”

“Is that what was wrong?” Kara asked, helping him gather the scattered tools.

“One of the issues. The main problem is with the primary cooling system. It’s functioning for now but I should replace some of the parts soon—they don’t have them on this station, but they can direct me to a supplier nearby.”

Rory had abandoned his arrangement and moved closer, watching as they packed away the tools. He tugged gently on her shirt, a question in his eyes.

“What is it, sweetheart?” she asked, crouching down to his level.

He pointed at Thraxar, then at the doorway leading out of the engine room, his meaning clear.

“He wants to know where you’re going next,” she translated, looking up at Thraxar.

“I need to visit the station’s commercial sector to arrange for the parts,” he replied, addressing Rory directly. “And to purchase supplies.”

Rory tugged on her shirt again, more insistently this time. His eyes were wide and hopeful.

“I think he wants to go with you,” she said, reading the familiar signals. “We’ve been cooped up on the ship since we left the mining colony.” She hesitated, suddenly uncertain. “Would that be all right? Or would we be in the way?”

Thraxar seemed surprised by the request. “You wish to accompany me?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she said. “Rory gets restless without a change of scenery, and honestly, so do I.” She smiled tentatively. “Besides, I might be able to help you find what you need.”

He considered this for a moment, his expression unreadable. “The station is relatively safe,” he said finally. “And having assistance would be… efficient.”

It wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but she’d take it. “Thank you. We won’t slow you down.”

“I have no concerns about that,” he said, and there was something in his tone that made her think that perhaps he actually wanted their company. The thought was both surprising and oddly warming.

“We should clean up first,” she said, glancing down at her oil-stained hands and clothes. “Give us fifteen minutes?”

He nodded. “I’ll meet you at the airlock.”

As they separated to prepare, Kara found herself looking forward to exploring the station.

It wasn’t just the prospect of a new environment after the confines of the mining colony and the ship—it was the company.

Despite his initial gruffness, Thraxar had proven to be considerate, patient, and unexpectedly perceptive.

And then there was that kiss.

She touched her lips briefly, remembering the moment. It had been impulsive, born of gratitude and an attraction she hadn’t expected to feel again. But his response had been anything but casual—the intensity of it had startled them both.

In the small bathroom, she quickly washed the engine grease from her hands and face, then changed into one of the garments she’d fashioned from Thraxar’s donated clothing.

She’d managed to create a tunic that fit her reasonably well, belted at the waist with a length of cord.

It wasn’t fashionable, but it was clean and functional.

Rory was waiting by the door, rocking slightly on his heels with anticipation. She knelt and straightened his clothes, using a damp cloth to wipe a smudge from his cheek.

“Ready for an adventure?” she asked, smiling at his eager expression. “Remember, stay close to me or Thraxar, okay? No wandering off.”

He nodded solemnly, then reached for her hand.

When they arrived at the airlock, Thraxar was already waiting. He’d changed into what Kara assumed was his version of public attire—a fitted vest over a long-sleeved garment, with multiple pockets and attachments. A small weapon hung at his belt.

“You look… prepared,” she commented.

“It never hurts to be prepared. I will take no chances with your safety.”

As the airlock cycled open, she felt a flutter of anxiety. This would be their first time in public since their escape. What if someone recognized them? What if there were Vedeckians on the station?

He seemed to sense her unease. “This is a neutral commerce station,” he said quietly. “The security is adequate, and I am known here. You will be safe.”

She nodded, grateful for the reassurance. “Lead the way, then.”

The station corridor was wider than she’d expected, with high ceilings and soft ambient lighting. Various beings moved purposefully in both directions—some humanoid, others utterly alien. Rory stared in fascination, his grip on her hand tightening.

“The commercial sector is this way,” he said, indicating a broad thoroughfare ahead. “The parts supplier first, then general provisions.”

As they walked, she noticed how other station inhabitants reacted to Thraxar—with respectful nods or careful distance. His size alone was imposing, but there was something else—an aura of quiet competence that seemed to command respect without demanding it.

“You come here often?” she asked.

“Periodically. It’s a convenient stop on several trade routes.”

They reached a shop front with various mechanical components displayed in the window. Thraxar ushered them inside, where shelves of parts and tools lined the walls from floor to ceiling. The proprietor, a spindly being with four arms and gleaming compound eyes, looked up from a workbench.

“Captain!” the merchant exclaimed. “A pleasure to see you again. What can I provide today?”

“I need parts for a T-class cooling system. Specifically, the circulation pump and primary filter assembly.”

“Hmm, T-class…” The merchant tapped one of his many fingers against what she assumed was a chin. “Not in stock, I’m afraid. But I can have them delivered from Orista Station within two days.”

He frowned. “Two days is longer than I planned to remain.”

“The best I can do, Captain. Unless…” The merchant’s compound eyes shifted to Kara and Rory. “New crew members? I didn’t realize you were expanding your operation.”

“They are under my protection,” Thraxar said, his tone suddenly cooler. “The parts, merchant. Two days, you said?”

“Yes, yes. I’ll need a deposit, of course.”

As they negotiated terms, Rory tugged on her hand, pointing to a display of small components that glittered under the shop lights. She allowed him to move closer to look, keeping him within arm’s reach.

“He has good taste,” the merchant commented, noticing Rory’s interest. “Those are precision calibrators from the Deneb system. Very rare.”

Rory wasn’t touching anything, just studying the intricate patterns with intense concentration. She watched him, struck again by how much he observed and absorbed from the world around him, despite his silence.

“The transaction is complete,” Thraxar announced, coming to join them. “The parts will be delivered to the ship in two days.”

“So we’re staying here that long?” Kara asked.

“It appears so.” He glanced down at Rory. “Does he require anything from this establishment?”

The question caught her off guard—not just the consideration it showed, but the assumption that Rory’s needs were valid and worth addressing.

“No, I think he’s just fascinated by the patterns,” she said. “But thank you for asking.”

As they left the shop, she felt a strange sense of contentment despite their delay. Two more days with Thraxar before reaching the Patrol station. Two more days before they would have to part ways.

She wasn’t ready to examine why that thought made her chest ache.

“The provisions market is ahead,” Thraxar said, interrupting her thoughts. “We should stock up on food supplies. Is there anything specific you or Rory require?”

“Fresh fruit, if possible,” she replied. “And maybe something sweet? It’s been a long time since Rory had any kind of treat.”

He nodded. “The market has vendors from many worlds. We’ll find something suitable.”

As they continued through the station, Rory between them, she found herself studying Thraxar’s profile.

The strong line of his jaw, the intricate patterns of his skin, the alert way he scanned their surroundings.

She’d never expected to feel drawn to someone so different from herself, and yet there was something about him—his quiet strength, his unexpected gentleness—that called to her.

One more thing to add to the growing list of complications in her life.