Chapter 6 Impossible Repairs #2
“Like you’re touching me everywhere at once.”
The words hang between us in the cramped space, heavy with implication and three years of suppressed desire. She’s still kneeling beside me, still touching the ship’s interface, still sending waves of sensation through my body with every movement of her fingers.
“We should...” I start, then lose the thread of rational thought as she traces a particularly sensitive pathway. “We should focus on the repairs.”
“Right. The repairs.” But she doesn’t move her hand away from the interface. If anything, she seems fascinated by the way the ship responds to her touch, the way the glowing circuits pulse brighter under her fingers.
I force myself to turn back to the navigation array, trying to ignore the way my body is reacting to her continued contact with the ship’s nervous system. “The guidance matrix interfaces here,” I explain, pointing to the central processing node. “But without the proper components...”
“You need to get to my garage,” she finishes. “To retrieve the capacitor that might work as a replacement.”
“Yes.” I risk a glance at her face, taking in the way her eyes have darkened slightly, the flush that’s spread across her cheeks. She’s affected by this proximity too, by the charged atmosphere and the knowledge of what her touch is doing to me through the ship’s interface.
“How long would the modifications take?”
“Hours. Maybe longer, depending on how well the Earth technology integrates with our quantum systems.” I turn to face her more fully, which is a mistake because it brings us even closer together in the confined space. “And that assumes the search teams do not find us while we work.”
“They think they’re looking for a monster,” she says quietly. “They don’t expect to find a courier trying to save lives.”
“No. They expect to find the creature that has been haunting their mountains for three years.” I meet her eyes. “Which I am.”
“You’re not a monster, Ja’war.”
The certainty in her voice, the way she says my name like she’s been practicing it, makes something clench in my chest. “How can you be certain?”
“Because monsters don’t spend three years ensuring lost travelers find safety.
They don’t risk their careers to deliver medications to dying colonies.
” She shifts position, accidentally pressing closer, and I have to grip the edge of the access panel to keep from reaching for her.
“And they don’t look at someone like you’ve been looking at me. ”
“How have I been looking at you?”
“Like I’m precious.” The admission comes out soft, vulnerable. “Like I’m something worth protecting.”
“You are.” The words escape before I can stop them, rough with three years of suppressed longing. “You are the most precious thing I have encountered in decades of traveling between worlds.”
Something shifts in her expression, surprise giving way to something warmer, more dangerous. “Ja’war...”
“I know it is too much,” I continue, unable to stop the words now that they’ve started.
“I know the pressure of being declared someone’s fated mate, the weight of three years of watching, is overwhelming.
But I need you to understand—the loneliness you spoke of, the years of solitude by choice?
I have spent decades experiencing the same isolation, not by choice but by necessity. ”
“Necessity?”
“I chose courier work after my family died,” I say quietly.
“A mining accident on Guxaria Prime took my entire family cluster. I had no ties to home anymore, and this job offered something I thought I wanted—the freedom to explore the galaxy without attachments.” I lean back against the wall, suddenly exhausted by the weight of so many years alone.
“What I did not anticipate was how that freedom would become a prison of isolation. I have not shared a meal with another person in three years. Have not had a conversation longer than supply requisitions in longer than that. Have not touched or been touched by anyone since...”
I trail off, realizing how pathetic that sounds.
“Since when?” she asks gently.
“Since I chose courier work over family bonds eight years ago.” The admission tastes bitter. “I thought freedom of movement was worth the isolation. I thought the satisfaction of successful deliveries would be enough to fill the empty spaces.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No. It was not.” I turn to study her face, memorizing the way sympathy and understanding soften her features. “Until I saw you. Until I understood what I had been missing, what I had been searching for without knowing it.”
“Me?”
“You. Your competence, your independence, your refusal to be anything less than exactly who you are.” I risk reaching up to touch her face, fingertips barely grazing her cheek. “Your ability to see beauty in broken things and find solutions where others see only problems.”
She doesn’t pull away from my touch. If anything, she leans into it slightly, her eyes falling half-closed as my thumb traces the line of her cheekbone.
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on someone,” she whispers.
“I know. Which is why I never approached you, never tried to force contact or connection. I hoped that someday, perhaps, our paths might cross naturally.”
“Instead, you got shot and crashed on my doorstep.”
“Yes. And discovered that reality is infinitely better than three years of distant observation.”
Her eyes open fully, meeting mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “Better how?”
“Better because you are even more magnificent up close. Because your voice when you speak to me is warmer than I imagined. Because your scent, your presence, your competence with my technology—all of it exceeds every fantasy I constructed during years of watching from shadows.”
I’m leaning closer as I speak, drawn by the way her lips part slightly as she listens, by the way her breathing has changed to match mine. The space between us shrinks to nothing, and I can feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
“Ja’war,” she breathes, and there’s something in her voice that sounds like invitation.
“Yes?”
Instead of answering with words, she closes the remaining distance between us, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss that’s tentative, testing, and absolutely devastating to my remaining control.
The contact sends fire racing through my nervous system, amplified by the ship’s interface she’s still touching, translated into sensation that makes my entire body burn with need. I can taste her curiosity, her desire, the way she’s testing her own response to this connection between us.
I’m about to deepen the kiss, to show her exactly how much three years of longing can be compressed into a single moment of contact, when the ship’s communication system erupts with urgent alerts.
We break apart instantly, both breathing hard, as emergency signals fill the cramped space with harsh light and discordant sound.
“What is it?” Fiona asks, her voice rough with interrupted desire.
I access the ship’s sensors, my mind struggling to shift from the haze of arousal to professional alertness. What I find makes my blood freeze.
“The search teams,” I say grimly. “They have found our trail from this morning. They are moving in this direction.”
“How long do we have?”
“Minutes. Perhaps less.” I’m already moving, sealing access panels and initiating emergency protocols. “We need to reach your garage immediately.”
“But the repairs—”
“Will have to happen there, under pressure, with limited time and resources.” I turn to face her, taking in her flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, the way her eyes still hold traces of desire despite the crisis. “Are you prepared for what this means?”
“What does it mean?”
“It means we will be trapped in your garage, possibly surrounded, with no choice but to complete impossible repairs or watch hundreds die.” I move closer, cupping her face in my hands. “It means choosing me over the safety of distance, over the comfort of uninvolvement.”
“I already made that choice,” she says, covering my hands with hers. “When I decided to help you, when I let you kiss me, when I kissed you back. I’m in this, Ja’war. Whatever comes next.”
The declaration makes something fierce and possessive roar to life in my chest. She is choosing me. Choosing us.
“Then we go,” I say, moving quickly to seal access panels. “But we cannot take Frost Walker—she is too large for your garage, and moving her would expose us completely to the search teams.”
“So how do we—”
“We take what we need from here.” I’m already pulling critical components from the navigation array, loading them into a portable repair kit.
“The quantum matrix cores, the interface modules, diagnostic equipment. We rebuild the navigation system in your garage using your capacitor as the primary component.”
“That’s possible?”
“It will have to be.” Emergency signals are getting louder, more urgent. “The search teams are less than a kilometer away.”
She nods grimly, helping me gather essential components. “How long do we have once we reach the garage?”
“A few hours. Maybe much less, depending on how well Earth technology integrates with Xarian quantum systems.” I seal the portable kit, the weight of it representing our only chance of success. “Are you ready?”
But before she can answer, the ship’s proximity alarms scream to life.
Through the hull, I can hear voices getting closer. Much closer.
“Movement to the north—”
“Check that tree line—”
“Something’s wrong with my readings—”
Fiona’s eyes meet mine, wide with sudden understanding of how little time we have left.
“Run,” I whisper.