2. Hakan
Hakan
The female is on the ground, staring up at me with wide green eyes full of terror and shock.
She's human. She has to be.
Everything about her matches what the Commander described — creamy skin, rounded curves, red hair that falls in thick spirals around her soft face.
But the Commander's clinical description hadn't prepared me for how curvy she is, how tiny, how vulnerable, how her chest heaves as she struggles to catch her breath, how her hands tremble as she tries to cover herself.
Pretty. The word comes before I can stop myself. More than pretty. Beautiful.
I shove the thought away forcefully. I have no business noticing such things. No business feeling the pull low in my gut as I take in her lush curves, the soft swell of her breasts, the feminine flare of her hips.
She's a mission objective. Nothing more.
"Are you hurt?" I ask, forcing my voice to remain steady, professional. I keep my eyes on her face, refusing to let my gaze wander despite the invitation of her bare skin.
She shakes her head, still breathing hard. "I ... I don't think so. I mean, I have some scrapes, but nothing serious. What —" Her voice cracks. "What the hell is going on?"
Her fear makes something twist in my chest. Despite being bewildered and completely out of her depth, she’s trying desperately to hold herself together. There's a strength in that — a resilience I respect.
"Let me help you up," I say, extending my hand.
She eyes me warily, and I don't blame her. I'm a stranger. An alien stranger, covered in the blood of the Virdathians I just killed. For all she knows, I'm as much of a threat as they were.
But after a moment's hesitation, she reaches out and takes my hand.
Her fingers are small and soft against my calloused palm. Delicate. The touch sends an unexpected jolt through me — something I haven't felt in years.
I pull her to her feet carefully, releasing her hand the moment she's steady. She sways slightly, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and stabilize her.
"Thank you," she whispers, wrapping her arms around herself. "For ... for saving me. Those things were going to….” She can't finish the sentence, but she doesn't need to. We both know what the Virdathians had planned.
"They won't hurt anyone again," I tell her flatly.
She looks past me at the bodies, and I see her swallow hard. "You killed them so quickly. So ... efficiently."
"I'm a warrior. It's what I'm trained to do."
"A warrior." She tests the word, her gaze moving from the bodies back to me. Really looking at me now — taking in my blue skin, my amber eyes, the hassana bands on my arms. "You're not human."
"No. I'm Kravan. From the planet of Krava.”
"Krava," she repeats, and I find I like the way my home planet sounds in her voice. "And those things? The ones who grabbed me?"
"Virdathians. Slavers and mercenaries who serve the Grokkan Empire." I glance around the clearing, listening for any sounds of additional threats. The jungle has gone quiet — the creatures that live here know to stay away from violence. "How did you get here?"
"I already told you, I don't know!" Frustration edges into her fear.
"One minute I was in a parking lot near my office, and the next I was waking up naked in this jungle with some kind of monster chasing me.” She's starting to shake again, the adrenaline wearing off.
"I don't understand what's happening. I don't understand any of this. "
For the past two days and nights, I've been trekking through this jungle, moving carefully toward the coordinates the Commander provided. The Grokkan lab is less than a mile from here — close enough that finding this human female nearby can't be a coincidence.
"Before you lost consciousness," I say carefully, watching her face, "did you see a yellow light?"
She gasps, her eyes going wide. "Yes! How did you know that? It surrounded me and I couldn't move and everything felt wrong, like I was being pulled apart, and then I blacked out." Her words come faster now, tumbling over each other. "What was it? What happened to me?"
The confirmation settles like a stone in my gut. The Commander was right. Not only is the Grokkan wormhole technology real, it's bringing human females from Earth to locations near their test sites.
But why? What are the Grokkans trying to accomplish?
"I believe you were transported here through wormhole technology," I tell her. "A yellow light, instant unconsciousness, waking up naked — it matches what my Commander told me to watch for."
"Wormhole technology?” She lets out a laugh that borders on hysterical. "Like in science fiction. Except this is real. This is actually happening."
"Yes. Your presence here is proof that it’s real."
She presses her hands to her face, and I can see her fighting for control. When she lowers them, her expression has shifted — less panic, more determination. It's impressive, the way she's forcing herself to adapt.
"Okay," she says, her voice steadier now. "Okay. So I've been ... wormholed? To an alien planet. By the Grokkans, you said? Who are apparently developing this technology?"
"Yes."
"And you're here because...?"
"My Commander tasked me with investigating a secret Grokkan lab in this area."
Understanding dawns in her eyes. "That's why you knew about the yellow light. You were expecting to find people — humans — who'd been transported here."
"I was told to watch for human females, yes. Though I didn't expect to find one naked in the jungle being chased by a rakkor."
"A rakkor? Is that what that nightmare creature was called?"
"They're territorial predators. Dangerous, but they usually avoid areas frequented by intelligent species." I glance in the direction she came from. "You were fortunate it didn't catch you."
"Fortunate," she repeats with a bitter laugh. "Right. Super fortunate. Chased by a monster, nearly captured by trolls, and stranded on an alien planet. I'm just overflowing with good luck today."
Despite everything, I almost smile at her sarcasm. She has spirit, this human female. Courage, even in the face of overwhelming fear.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Daisy." She hugs herself tighter, and I notice the way she's shivering despite the jungle's heat. Shock, most likely. "Daisy Madden. I'm a social worker. I help homeless families find housing. And I really, really need you to explain to me how I get home."
Home.
The word hits hard. Of course she wants to go home, to return to that planet of hers, Earth, and to her life helping families. Why would she want to stay here, in a universe at war, on a planet controlled by the Grokkan Empire?
"I don't know if that's possible," I tell her honestly. "The wormhole technology is new. We don't understand yet how it works."
Her face crumples for just a moment before she visibly forces herself to hold it together. "So I'm stuck here."
"For now, yes."
"Great. Fantastic." She takes a shaky breath. "Okay. What happens now? Are you going to, I don't know, arrest me? Interrogate me? Sell me like those Virdathians wanted to?"
The question ignites a flash of anger in my chest. "No. I'm going to make sure you're safe."
"Safe." She looks around at the alien jungle, at the Virdathian corpses, at me — a warrior she has no reason to trust. "I don't think I know what that word means anymore."
Fair enough.
I can tell she’s bothered by her nakedness, so I grab a branch from a frandalla tree, pull off one of its large pink leaves, and hand it to her. “This won't cover much, but it's something until I can make you proper clothing."
She stares at the leaf, which is more than large enough to wrap around her torso, and then back at me, surprise clear on her face. “You can make clothing?”
“Of course. You can’t?”
She gazes at me wonderingly as she wraps the leaf around her chest, covering her breasts but leaving much of her still exposed. It's inadequate, but better than nothing.
"Thank you," she says quietly.
I turn toward the cluster of frandalla trees and pluck more leaves. As the Javardian farmers taught me when I first came to this planet, the leaves are huge, flexible, and surprisingly durable when worked correctly.
"What are you doing?" Daisy asks as I arrange the leaves on the ground.
"Making you a dress."
"A dress. Out of leaves."
"Unless you'd prefer to remain as you are."
“No, no, no,” she says quickly. “A leaf dress sounds great. Amazing. Thank you."
I work quickly, my hands moving through the familiar motions of weaving. It's been awhile since I've made clothing this way, but the skill comes back easily. As I work, I can feel her watching me.
"Can I ask you something?" she says.
"Yes."
"Those bands on your arms. The gold ones. What are they?"
I glance down at my hassana bands, the metal gleaming against my blue skin. "Warrior bands. Hassana bands. They’re earned through service to Krava — my home planet — and fused to our bodies.”
“Fused to you?”
“They’re part of me. Connected to my life force."
"Oh." A pause. "And your eyes. They're glowing. Is that normal?"
"For my kind, yes. The glow intensifies when we're emotional."
"Are you emotional now?"
I look up from my weaving to meet her gaze. Those beautiful green eyes of hers are watching me with curiosity and something else — something that makes my pulse quicken.
"Yes," I admit.
"Why?"
Because I haven't felt this alive in years, I want to tell her.
"Because I'm concerned for your safety," I say instead.
It's not a lie, but it isn’t the whole truth either.
I finish the leaf dress and stand, holding it out to her. It’s a single piece with a loose fit, designed to cover her from shoulder to mid-thigh. She takes it, examining my handiwork with something like awe.
"You made this so fast. It's actually pretty."
"It will keep you covered and provide some protection from the jungle. It won't last more than a day or two, but by then we should reach my farm."
"Your farm?" She slips the dress over her head, and I force myself to look away as she adjusts it. From the way the soft leaf fabric hugs her curves, the fit looks right.
“How does the dress feel?”
She’s still adjusting herself in it. “The leaves are a lot softer than I expected.”
“Would you like me to make any adjustments?”
“No,” she says. “This should work. Thank you. So … you were saying that we’re going to your farm?"
"I can't leave you here alone. The jungle is too dangerous. And I need to complete my investigation of the Grokkan lab before I can take you anywhere else."
"So I'm coming with you? To spy on an alien lab run by the people who kidnapped me?"
When she puts it that way, what I’m planning does sound insane.
"You'll stay hidden while I investigate," I tell her. "I won't let you come to harm."
"Why should I trust you?" The question isn't hostile — just honest. "I don't know you. I don't know anything about this place or these people or what's happening to me."
She's right to be cautious. After what she's been through, blind trust would be foolish.
"You shouldn't trust me," I say bluntly. "Not completely. Not yet. But you saw what the Virdathians wanted to do to you. There are worse things than them in this jungle. I'm offering you protection. A chance to survive while we figure out how to get you home."
"And what do you get out of it?"
"The satisfaction of knowing I didn't leave an innocent female to die alone in the jungle."
She studies me for a long moment, her green eyes searching my face. I let her look, let her see whatever she needs to see to make her decision.
Finally, she nods. "Okay. I'll go with you. I mean, of course I will. But I want answers. Real answers. About where I am, about these Grokkans, about everything."
"I'll tell you what I can."
She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders in a gesture of determination that I find oddly compelling. "Lead the way, Hakan of Krava."
I start walking, and she falls into step beside me. Well, behind me — the jungle is too dense for us to walk side by side, and I need to scout ahead for threats.
As we move through the undergrowth, I find myself hyperaware of her presence. The soft sound of her breathing. The rustle of the leaf dress. The occasional small noise of discomfort when a branch scratches her or a root trips her up.
She's slowing me down, making me vulnerable. I should be irritated.
Instead, all I feel is a fierce protectiveness that makes no logical sense.
"Hakan?" Her voice is small, uncertain.
"Yes?"
"How far is it to the lab?"
“We’re getting close."
"After you investigate it, will you help me get home?"
The hope in her voice is painful to hear.
"I don't know if I can promise you that. But I can promise this: I will keep you safe. No matter what happens, I won't let anyone hurt you. You have my word as a warrior of Krava."
Silence behind me. Then, so quietly I almost don't hear it:
"Thank you."
We walk on through the alien jungle, a Kravan warrior haunted what I’ve lost and a human female far from home, and I wonder what the hell I've gotten myself into.
And why, despite all the reasons I should know better, protecting this female already feels like the most important thing I’ve done in years.