Chapter 5 #2
We cleared a space in the center of the control room, moving aside chairs and equipment to create an area where we could spread out our gear.
The supplies we’d salvaged from the ship weren’t extensive: some emergency rations, water purification tablets, basic medical supplies, and the scientific equipment I’d managed to save.
“Food first,” Torven said, opening one of the ration packs. “We need to maintain our energy, but we also need to make these last.”
I did some quick calculations in my head. “If we ration carefully, we have maybe four days of food. Water will be the bigger problem.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he said.
That was one of his go-to lines, I’d noticed.
And he said it when he had no idea how to solve a problem.
His skin had shifted to a darker gray color.
In the short time I’d been observing him, I was starting to recognize his emotional tells.
The grays and blues seemed to appear when he was being guarded or distant, while warmer colors indicated stronger emotions like anger or fear.
Right now, he was definitely putting his walls back up.
“So,” I said, settling down across from him as we shared the meager ration, “tell me about being a transport pilot. How long have you been flying?”
“Long enough,” he said, not looking at me.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the answer you’re getting.”
I studied his face, noting the way his jaw had tightened. Whatever walls he’d let down during our trek to the tower were firmly back in place now that we weren’t in immediate physical danger.
“Okay,” I said. “Different question. What do you think of scientists?”
That got his attention. He looked up at me with those striking green eyes, and I saw something that might have been curiosity there. “What kind of question is that?”
“An honest one. You’ve been pretty clear that you think I overpack and ask too many questions. I’m wondering if that’s personal or if you just don’t like my entire profession.”
He was quiet for a long moment, chewing thoughtfully on the bland ration. “Scientists ask too many questions that have no good answers,” he said finally.
“Such as?”
“Such as why we need to investigate a planet that might be the Destran home world, when we already have a perfectly good moon for our Solas.”
I felt like he’d just revealed something important, though I wasn’t entirely sure what. “So, you think this whole mission was pointless from the beginning?”
“I don’t question the point of missions,” he replied. “I do as the lord of my Sola asks.”
“You have high levels of duty and honor,” I said carefully, tapping my chin in thought.
“And an equal balance of skepticism and practicality. You thought this mission was superfluous, but why didn’t you voice that opinion?
Is it because you don’t question your leaders, or do you think your viewpoint would be disregarded? ”
Red streaks flashed through the dark gray tones of his skin, and I realized I’d gotten a little too close to the bone on that one. Before he could respond with what was probably going to be a cutting remark, I held up my hands.
“Sorry. Occupational hazard. I ask too many questions for a living.”
The red in his skin faded slightly, replaced by something closer to his normal bronze tones. “What about you?” he asked. “What made you decide to spend your life studying atmospheric compositions on alien planets?”
“Honestly? I like puzzles. And atmospheric systems are some of the most complex puzzles in the universe. Every planet is different; every system has its own variables and patterns. You can study a place for years and still discover something completely unexpected.”
“Like today’s storm.”
“Like today’s storm,” I agreed. “Though I have to admit, being that dramatically wrong about something is a new experience for me.”
“You weren’t wrong. You just didn’t have all the data.”
“That’s very generous of you to say.”
“It’s not generous. It’s accurate.” He finished his ration and set the empty container aside. “You want to know what I think of scientists?”
I looked at him warily. “Do I?”
“I think most of them are too caught up in theory to pay attention to practical realities. They’re annoying and have an inflated sense of self, but when they need to do something useful, they fall apart.
But you…” He paused, and I saw his skin shift through several different colors before settling on a warm amber.
“You kept your head during the storm. You gave me solid information when I needed it. And you didn’t panic when everything took a bad turn. ”
“High praise from someone who doesn’t like scientists.”
“Maybe I don’t mind them as much when they actually know what they’re talking about.”
We looked at each other across the small space, and I felt a weird little shift. Something was changing between us, something that went beyond the practical necessity of survival cooperation.
“Your hands,” he said suddenly, nodding toward my bandaged palms. “I should take a proper look at them.”
I’d actually forgotten about the injuries in all the excitement of getting the power restored. Now that he mentioned it, I could feel a dull throbbing where the antiseptic patches were pulling at the torn skin.
“They’re fine,” I said automatically.
“No, they're not.” He was already reaching for the medical kit. “Those patches are meant for temporary field treatment. If we don’t clean the wound properly, you could get an infection.”
I held out my hands reluctantly, suddenly very aware that this was going to involve him touching me in a much more intimate way than our earlier hurried first aid.
He moved closer, close enough that I could see flecks of gold in his green eyes. His fingers were gentle as he carefully peeled away the antiseptic patch, but I still winced when it pulled at the torn skin.
“Sorry,” he murmured, his attention focused entirely on my palm. “It’s deeper than I thought.”
The cut wasn’t serious, but it was messy, with bits of debris still embedded in the torn skin. Torven cleaned it with methodical care, using wound cleanser from our medical supplies and antiseptic from the medical kit. His touch was surprisingly gentle for someone with such large, capable hands.
“You’re good at this,” I said, watching him work.
“I’ve had practice.”
“Medical training?”
“Some. You learn basic field medicine when you’re flying in dangerous areas.” His skin darkened again, and I sensed there was more to the story than he was telling me.
“All done,” he said, applying a fresh bandage and securing it with medical tape. “Try not to use that hand more than necessary for the next few days.”
“Thank you,” I said, flexing my fingers experimentally. The bandages were snug but not restrictive, and the pain had already diminished to a manageable level.
When I looked up, I found him watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite interpret. The amber color had returned to his skin, and there was something in his eyes that made my heart skip a beat.
“Rivers,” he said, and my name sounded different in his voice than it had before.
“Yeah?”
“Nothing. Just…” He shook his head and moved back to his side of our makeshift camp. “We should get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll need to explore more of the tower, see if we can access the data systems.”
I wanted to ask him what he’d been about to say, but exhaustion was starting to hit me like a physical weight. The adrenaline that had been keeping me going since the storm began was wearing off, and I could barely keep my eyes open.
“You’re right,” I said, pulling my jacket tighter around myself. “Morning will be better for complex technical work anyway.”
I expected him to set up his sleeping area on the opposite side of the room, maintaining the professional distance he seemed so determined to preserve. Instead, to my complete surprise, he spread his coat on the floor right next to where I was settling down.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Staying near you,” he said matter-of-factly. “No idea what the night time brings out here. We stay close. Basic survival technique.”
It was a reasonable explanation, but there was something in the way he wasn’t quite meeting my eyes that suggested it wasn’t the whole truth.
Not that I was complaining. The thought of sleeping alone in this abandoned place, with unknown dangers potentially lurking in the darkness above us, was genuinely terrifying.
“Okay,” I said, lying down and pulling my coat around myself like a blanket. “That makes sense.”
Torven settled down beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. For someone who’d been so determined to maintain emotional distance, he seemed surprisingly comfortable with physical proximity.
“Good night, Rivers,” he said quietly.
“Good night.”
I closed my eyes and tried to relax, but I was hyperaware of his presence beside me. I could hear his breathing gradually slow and deepen, and within minutes, he was making soft snoring sounds that were oddly comforting.
It occurred to me that this was probably the first time since the storm began that he’d allowed himself to truly let his guard down.
He’d been carrying the weight of responsibility for my safety, for his crew’s fate, for our survival in this inhospitable environment. Now, finally, he was able to rest.
I lay there listening to him sleep and thinking about everything that had happened in the space of a single day.
This morning, Torven had been just the gruff transport captain who’d criticized my equipment choices.
Now he was the male who’d risked his life to save mine, who’d shown me unexpected gentleness while treating my wounds, who’d let his walls down just enough for me to glimpse the person behind them.
I was in trouble. Not just the obvious kind that came from being stranded on an alien planet with limited supplies and no rescue coming. I was in the kind of trouble that came from being attracted to someone at the worst possible time, under the worst possible circumstances.
But as I finally drifted off to sleep, warm and safe beside him in the darkness of an abandoned tower, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.
Whatever tomorrow brought, whatever dangers or revelations were waiting for us in the levels above, I was grateful to face them with him beside me.
Even if he was snoring.