Chapter 18 - Samantha
Still no news from Logan. I miss my brother terribly, and the uncertainty is eating me alive. I know he's strong and resilient, probably off on a mission at the far end of the galaxy. But he could’ve at least let me know he was okay. Or Igor could’ve. Or better yet... Ayden...
“I'm here, sweet girl,” says the man who’s haunted my thoughts for years. “I came as soon as I heard what happened.”
“Ayden? How is this even possible?”
“Igor contacted me. Told me everything. I set course for Gekkaria immediately. I was worried about you.”
“But... it’s been so long,” I whisper, barely breathing. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“I never forgot you, you know? That night—it’s carved into my memory like nothing else.”
My heart is pounding, breath shallow. I used to think I'd never see Ayden again. And yet here he is, as breathtaking as ever. His beautiful obsidian eyes shine like twin stars.
“Oh Ayden, I’ve missed you so much.”
“I know, sweet girl. I missed you too. But I had no choice. I had to leave.”
“Yes... Logan explained.”
“But I came back. I’m here now. And I’m taking you with me.”
How many times have I dreamed of hearing those words? Too many to count over the years. But now... he’s really here. More beautiful than I remembered. He steps toward me, towering a full head above me. One hand cradles my face, gently turning it toward him. His lips are just inches from mine.
“I should never have left that day,” he whispers.
“It broke my heart...”
“I'm sorry. Will you let me make it right?”
I nod slowly, captivated by the nearness of his mouth. And then he kisses me—hungrily, deeply, like he’s trying to claim back lost time. Waves of heat crash over me. My hands explore him in return, eager to memorize every hard line of his body again. I’m gasping with longing.
Without breaking the kiss, he pushes me with determination toward my room.
My legs bump against the bed, and I fall backward, mentally high-fiving myself for coming back to Gekkar Creek yesterday.
He’s now looming above me in all his glorious majesty, his eyes blazing with a hunger that sends shivers down my spine.
I gaze back, devouring him with my eyes.
I strip off my white nightshirt, part eager, part anxious.
What if I’m not enough? He’s probably known countless women during his travels. And me...
He leans down, kissing me fiercely, his mustache tickling me—
Wait. Mustache?
He didn’t have a mustache a minute ago! I try to push him away, but the silky hairs press insistently against my ear in a cheerful, ticklish caress.
I open my eyes to find myself back in my hut, on my humble mat... and face-to-snout with my little Gooz, who just woke me from that steamy dream with his fuzzy nose.
I’m drenched in sweat, breathless with frustration. My little fluffball, on the other hand, is thrilled with the ear rubs I give him in return.
“It was just a dream,” I sigh.
One more dream, I could add. I’ve had plenty of fantasies where Ayden comes back. But he never does.
A year ago, I tried to forget him in the arms of a Gekkar Creek settler.
Frank stayed for a few dozen rotations, working in the greenhouses.
It was brief—and disappointing. Since then, I’ve watched passing workers with a new eye.
But how could any of them compare to Ayden?
Then again... if I’m honest, I never really knew him.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ve just idealized that moment.
Maybe if things had gone further, I’d have felt the same letdown I did with Frank.
But the truth is—I’ll probably never know.
A glance through the hut opening confirms it’s still night. So I lie back down and consciously dive into another dream where Ayden declares his love for me. Pathetic, I know.
Morning comes, and I wake up in a grumpy mood. That useless, frustrating dream lingered all night. I need to move on. Let go of the past.
My little Gooz offers another comforting cuddle before I throw on one of my suits and climb down from my hut to check on Nov.
My grumpy patient has been doing much better lately. The daily baths have worked wonders. For his leg, anyway—not his personality, unfortunately.
I still hope that, with time, the trauma he suffered on Vagantu will fade, and he'll begin to picture a brighter future. He’s still limping, and I worry his leg may never fully heal.
The larvae and the resulting necrosis did major damage to the upper part of his calf.
And using crutches daily drives him up the wall.
“Good morning, dear friend. How are you today?”
“I’m not your friend. I’m your prisoner. Your guinea pig for your revolting potions,” he grumbles.
“I don’t believe you for a second. I saw you sniff the cream I made to soften your leg. You almost smiled!”
“Your potions must have hallucinogenic effects. All I see is time slipping by while I’m still stuck using these cursed crutches. I’m starting to think you’re dragging this out just to torture me.”
I burst out laughing at his blatant bad faith. A fleeting smile twitches across his face, but I don’t dare point it out.
When six Gekkaris arrive to help him down from the tree, he snaps.
“I’m not helpless. I’m going to try on my own!”
“But—”
“I said I’ll do it!” he yells. “I’m sick of being tossed around by scaly lizards like I’m some oversized parcel. For the Stars’ sake, leave me alone!”
Surprised, the Gekkaris step back as Nov slowly approaches the edge of the hut.
Without a word, I sign to Goulou to be ready to catch him if needed.
Wide-eyed, I watch alongside my Gekkari friends as Nov takes on each step with brute determination. He descends one rung at a time, relying on his good leg and upper body strength, never once putting weight on his injury. It's... impressive.
When he finally sets foot on the ground, his whole body trembles from the effort, but the look in his eyes is blazing with pride. He’s panting, but not too proud to take a rest on the seat waiting at the base of the tree.
“Now, I’m going hunting,” he announces with drama.
Well. I may have spoken too soon. He’s proud enough to believe he can bag a kill in his condition.
But I won’t talk him out of it. He’ll realize his limits soon enough.
“Weh comin’ doo!” announces Goulou, clearly determined to follow Nov wherever he goes to look after him.
So, Flea, Gooz, and I sit by the hut, watching Nov hobble away surrounded by four Gekkaris on his grand quest for edible prey.
“Do you think he’ll find anything?” I ask Flea, who tilts her head thoughtfully.
“Goulou no’z!” she nods.
“Yeah, he knows where to find bugs and larvae. But Nov... he wants something bigger!”
She shrugs in response—a gesture she picked up from watching me too much.
When Nov returns a few hours later, empty-handed and visibly frustrated, he slumps onto a chair near my lab.
“This forest is cursed. The animals mock me. They laugh at my slowness!”
“No, Nov, the forest isn’t cursed. It’s exactly how it’s always been—welcoming, vibrant, teeming with life. And the animals aren’t mocking you. They’re curious. They’ve sensed you’re a predator weakened by injury.”
“I’m NOT WEAK!” he snaps.
Yikes. Poke the beast, and get the fangs.
Ever since his fever broke, Nov radiates menace like a wild creature barely restrained. But I keep teasing him—it’s the only way to remind him he’s still recovering.
“I’d never say such a thing, my lord,” I answer with a mischievous grin.
He stiffens at the mockery and looks away.
But it makes sense, doesn’t it? I’ve often wondered about who he was before Vagantu. He must’ve been powerful. Everything about him screams command, authority, and entitlement. Losing all that must be... unbearable.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
He gives me a curious look.
“I don’t know anything about your past—you dodge every question I ask—but over the past weeks, I’ve watched you regain your strength.
Your posture, your attitude... it tells me you were someone important.
And you will be again, if you’re patient.
Your body is healing. Soon, you’ll be strong enough to find a ship and go back home.
You’re not a slave anymore, Nov. You’re free. ”
He looks away again, almost afraid to believe it. But I believe it for him. Sure, he’s grumpy as hell, but his will is made of steel.
Whatever he lost to the slave traders—he’ll get it back. I’m certain of it.
I’m finishing up cleaning my lab while he watches from a chair in the corner.
Inside my space, golden light filters through the interlaced branches of the walls.
The place is simple but warm, padded with dried moss and leaves, and smells of bark and herbs.
Everything’s carefully arranged. Even without walls, each area is clearly defined by rough wooden furniture.
A low table holds a mortar, some linen pouches, and scattered tools. At the back, cords stretched between beams hold hanging plants drying upside down. Baskets gather fallen leaves. A gentle breeze flows through, helping the process.
To the right of the entrance, another table is crowded with composite jars from Gekkar Creek, wooden bowls, carved spatulas. Herbal oils simmer slowly over a clay pot on a bed of hot stones.
I’m making a balm for skin irritation, a salve for burns, a wound paste, and some teas for infection.
But today, I worked on something else. Something even my father didn’t know existed.
Mouerta toxin is a powerful neurotoxic extract from the Mouerta plant. It’s used for its potent anesthetic properties, but mishandling it can release a lethal dose. I rarely make it due to the danger, but I always take every precaution.
Not wanting to leave Nov alone too long, I made a quick run to the colony a few days ago to stock up on supplies. The doctor at Gekkar Creek told me he was running low. I promised to prepare a few vials. Which I did this morning.
I’m now cleaning and putting away my workspace using the big water bucket Goulou provided.
“You seem to really like it here,” Nov says.
“Of course! I started this lab with my mom—she was an herbalist, taught me everything. Actually, Lina taught her first.”
“Lina?”
“An old Gekkari. She passed away a few years ago. She trained Mila and my mom, who then taught Flea and me. There’s something deeply fulfilling about knowing how to use the plants around us.”
“They’re just weeds,” he scoffs.
“Weeds that saved your leg from gangrene and amputation. Weeds that broke your fever too.”
He shrugs, unconvinced.
“I’m done! I’m going to bring the flasks to my aeropod, then deliver them to Gekkar Creek tomorrow.”
“What is it—some potion to curl nose hair?” he snorts, hobbling after me.
“A powerful anesthetic,” I correct. “There are accidents in the greenhouses. If the doctor has to operate, he needs this.”
“Surprising. I didn’t think people still used such primitive methods.”
“Very few planets in the galaxy are technologically advanced. Most live quite simply. The Intergalactic Confederation’s policy is to not interfere with their development.”
“Oh, those Confederation do-gooders,” he sneers.
“Why do you say that? You—”
We're interrupted by a strange noise from above. We look up to see young Gekkaris hanging upside down from their friends’ fronds, staring at us.
Or rather—at Nov. They’ve never seen him before.
He’s spent most of his time in his hut, only interacting with a handful of adults.
This walk through the village? It’s a big deal for curious Gekkari kids.
“What’s their problem?” Nov grumbles.
wNothing. They’ve just never seen a giant hairy beast before!”
“Then let them come closer. I bet they’ve never seen sharp teeth or claws either!”
“Oh, Nov, they’re just kids. Stop playing the big bad wolf. No one’s buying it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Behind all your grumbling, you’ve got a good heart.”
“You know nothing about me. I’ve done things your little mind couldn’t even fathom, you naive creature!” he snaps, glaring.
Startled by his outburst, I take a step back.
But so did our tiny audience. Little Zena, terrified by the sudden anger, lost her grip. My blood runs cold as I see her fall from such a height. But Nov reacts faster than me. He shoves me aside and leaps to catch her before she hits the ground.
In an instant, Gekkaris swarm him, their skin pulsing with shades of soft blue and green—colors of relief and gratitude.
As for me? When he pushed me, I dropped all my flasks and landed right on one. It shattered under me—I realize as I feel a suspicious wetness near my hip... followed by a stinging burn.
Shit.
Once the crowd disperses, taking the excitable children with them, only Nov and Goulou remain—and they see me still lying on the ground.
“You gah huh?” asks Goulou, tilting his head.
"You got hurt?" Nov adds, surprised I’m not getting up.
I feel dizzy. Nausea hits. My limbs are tingling. I know exactly what’s happening—and if I want to survive, I have to explain fast.
“Nov... the Mouerta... the vial...”
His sharp gaze spots the broken shards instantly. He grabs my hands and tries to lift me, looking for a wound.
“D-Don’t... touch me...” I whisper.
“What the hell is going on?” he shouts, panicked.
“Mouerta... poison...”
I shut my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart. If I can’t explain soon—I’m going to die.
“Nov... Mouerta is a neurotoxin. It causes... rapid paralysis... then organ failure...”
“What? What the hell are you saying? Should I dunk you in water? Make you drink tea? Or—”
“Nov!” I cut him off gently. “The doctor... at Gekkar... Creek... He has a serum. An antidote.”
“You need to get to Gekkar Creek? But you can’t even stand!”
His powers of observation are truly astonishing — if only his deductive skills could keep up. Guess I’ll have to spell it all out before I lose consciousness.
“Nov... I’m going to pass out. I’ve got eight hours before... irreversible damage... Ten before I die...”
I catch one last glimpse of his horrified eyes before I let go—and surrender to the darkness pulling me under.