3. Daisy
Daisy
Following Hakan through the jungle is like following a ghost.
Despite his size — and he's massive, all muscle and blue skin and tight leather pants and lethal grace — he moves almost silently through the undergrowth. Meanwhile, I'm crashing along behind him like a drunk elephant, stepping on every twig, getting my leaf dress caught on every branch.
He doesn't complain. Doesn't even look back. Just adjusts his pace so I can keep up, occasionally holding aside a particularly nasty-looking branch or gesturing for me to step over a root.
I try to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, but my mind keeps spinning.
This is insane. All of this is completely insane.
Twenty-four hours ago, I was worried about the Wilson family's housing application and whether I had enough creamer for my coffee.
Now I'm on an alien planet, wearing a dress made of leaves, following a blue-skinned warrior who’s on a mission to spy on a secret lab run by the species that apparently kidnapped me.
How is this my life?
I watch Hakan's broad back as he moves ahead of me, the muscles shifting beneath his blue skin, and try to decide if I'm making a terrible mistake by trusting him.
He killed those Virdathians without hesitation. Brutal. Efficient. The blood hadn't even bothered him — he just wiped if off and moved on like it was nothing.
Scary stuff.
But the flip side was — he’d killed them to protect me from them. He’d asked if I was hurt with what sounded like genuine concern. He’d made me a dress with his own hands.
Small gestures matter. Actions count.
My job has taught me that. When you work with families in crisis, you learn to read people quickly — to distinguish between those who genuinely want to help and those who are just going through the motions.
You learn to notice the details. The tone of voice.
The body language. The little kindnesses that reveal character.
Hakan's actions so far have felt authentic. Meaningful.
For now, at least, I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"Hakan?" I venture, breaking the silence.
He slows slightly but doesn't turn around. "Yes?"
"Those Virdathians we left back there. Won't someone come looking for them?"
"Yes."
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. Typical male — why use ten words when one will do?
"So ... won't they find the bodies? Won't they know someone killed them?"
"They'll find what's left of the bodies," he says. "By now, the scavengers will have found them. Rakkors, spine-eels, flesh-beetles. The jungle doesn't waste anything."
The casual way he says it makes my stomach turn. "That's ... horrifying."
"That's nature."
We walk in silence for a few more minutes. The jungle around us is alive with sounds — clicks and whistles, rustling leaves, the occasional roar in the distance that makes me flinch. The air is thick and humid, smelling of dirt and vegetation and something sweet I can't identify.
Through gaps in the canopy above, I can see that strange violet sky and the enormous moon hanging above us. Every time I glimpse it, my brain tries to reject what my eyes are seeing.
This can't be real. This can't be happening.
But it is.
"There," Hakan says suddenly, pointing ahead.
I follow his gesture and freeze.
Rising above the jungle canopy in the distance is a structure — clean lines and gleaming metal, completely out of place in this wild landscape. It’s about half a mile away, too far to make out details, but clearly artificial.
"That's the lab?" I whisper.
"Yes."
"It looks ... modern. High-tech."
"The Grokkans are highly advanced. Cruel and power-hungry, but advanced."
We move closer, Hakan's pace slowing as he becomes more cautious. His amber eyes scan constantly, alert for threats.
I try to move as quietly as he does, but it's impossible.
A branch snaps under my foot and he glances back at me.
"Sorry," I mouth.
He doesn't acknowledge it, just returns his attention forward.
As we get closer to the lab, I can start to make out details.
It's not as large as I expected — a group of low buildings arranged in a rough circle, their walls a pale gray metal that seems to absorb the jungle's colors.
A communications tower rises from the center, bristling with equipment I don't recognize.
On one side is a landing pad with two spacecraft parked on it.
"How many people work here?" I ask quietly.
"Fifty scientists, according to the Commander's intelligence. Plus security."
"Were those Virdathians back there — the ones who attacked me — were they from the lab?"
"Perimeter guards, most likely.”
"Won't someone notice they're missing?"
Hakan's mouth curves in something that's not quite a smile. "When the lab sends out a search party, they'll find half-eaten corpses and assume the guards were careless. That the rakkors got them."
The cold truth of that makes sense, but it still feels wrong. The Virdathians might have been thugs and slavers, but they were still ... beings. Living creatures.
Then I remember how they looked at me. How one of them grabbed me, his hand rough and cruel. What they'd been planning to do before Hakan intervened.
Maybe I don't feel that bad after all.
We're close enough now that I can hear the hum of machinery. Hakan drops into a crouch behind a cluster of massive ferns, and I follow his lead.
"Stay low," he murmurs. "And quiet."
"What are you looking for?"
"Patterns. Guard rotations. Weak points in their security."
He goes silent, watching with the patience of a predator. I try to be patient too, but my mind is racing with questions.
"Hakan?"
"Hmm?"
"Why am I here? I mean, why did the Grokkans' wormhole technology bring me to this planet? To this specific location?"
“No idea. The Commander believes the technology is still experimental. Perhaps it’s unstable. Perhaps it pulled you randomly."
“Maybe it isn’t random. Did the other humans appear near other Grokkan test sites? If so, maybe there's a pattern we're not seeing yet."
He looks at me then, really looks at me, and I see something like approval in his amber eyes. "That's good thinking."
The praise shouldn't make me feel warm, but it does.
We watch the lab for what feels like forever but is probably only twenty minutes. I see several figures moving between the buildings — tall beings with red skin and white hair who must be Grokkans.
“Are those … Grokkans?” I ask.
“Yes,” he replies, his voice full of anger.
“And the spacecraft on the landing pad," I whisper. "What are they?"
"Standard Grokkan and Virdathian transports. Nothing unusual about them."
"Could we steal one? To get me home?"
His expression becomes carefully neutral. "Possibly. But I don't know how to navigate to Earth. I don't even know where Earth is."
Of course he doesn't. Hope deflates in my chest.
"What's the plan?" I ask instead. "We just watch them? Take notes?"
"I need to get inside. See what they're working on."
My heart rate spikes. "Inside? As in, inside that facility full of Grokkans and Virdathians?"
"Yes."
"That's insane."
"Perhaps. But it's what I'm here to do."
We start moving again, carefully circling the perimeter. I follow, my pulse pounding in my ears.
We're maybe a hundred yards from the nearest building when Hakan stops and holds up a hand. I freeze.
"What —"
"Quiet."
He kneels, then brushes aside leaves to reveal a thin wire stretched between two trees at ankle height. It's barely visible, and I definitely would have walked right into it.
"Trip sensor," he murmurs. "Standard perimeter security. Step over it carefully."
He demonstrates, lifting his leg high to clear the wire. I try to do the same, but my leaf dress catches on something and I stumble.
Before I can fall into the wire, Hakan's arms are around me, lifting me clear off the ground like I weigh nothing.
For a moment I'm pressed against his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him, the strength in his arms. His skin is smooth against mine, and up close I can see faint scars along his collarbone, the defined muscles of his shoulders.
My breath catches. Not from fear this time.
He sets me down on the other side of the wire, his hands lingering on my waist for just a second before he releases me.
"Thank you," I whisper, my voice shakier than I'd like.
He doesn't respond, just turns and keeps moving.
We climb a small ridge, and from this vantage point we can finally see the entire lab complex spread out below us.
It's more extensive than I initially thought — in addition to the main buildings, there are several smaller structures, what looks like a generator facility, and multiple radar arrays scattered throughout the cleared area.
“Are you trying to figure out where to break in?" I ask quietly.
"Yes."
“When will you do it?"
"Tonight. After dark."
"And what am I supposed to do while you're playing secret agent?"
In the fading light of the alien sun, his amber eyes seem to glow brighter. "You'll wait for me. Hidden. Safe."
"I could help," I hear myself say, though the notion terrifies me.
"No."
"I'm serious. I could be a distraction, or —"
"No." His voice is firm but not unkind. "You're untrained. Unarmed. You'd be a liability, not an asset. I need to know you're safe so I can focus on the mission."
The words sting, but he's right. I don't know how to fight. I don't know anything about this world or how to navigate a secret facility.
Still, I hate feeling useless.
"Fine," I mutter. "I'll wait. Like a good little damsel in distress."
Something that might be amusement flickers across his face. "You're not a damsel. You're a survivor. There's a difference."
The unexpected compliment catches me off-guard.
"You were transported across the galaxy to an unknown world. Chased by a rakkor. Nearly taken by slavers. And yet here you are — frightened, yes, but functioning. Asking questions. Thinking strategically. Many beings would have broken by now."
"Maybe I'm just good at faking it."
"Or maybe you're stronger than you realize."
We hold each other's gazes for a moment, and I feel something pass between us. Something I can't quite name.
Then he looks away, scanning the lab complex again.
"We should move back," he says gruffly. "Find a place to shelter before nightfall, where you can stay hidden while I investigate."
"Okay."
We retreat from the ridge and move deeper into the jungle. The light is starting to fade, the violet sky darkening to purple. Strange bioluminescent plants begin to glow around us, turning the jungle into something from a fever dream.
"Hakan?"
"Yes?"
"Why are you doing this? Helping me, I mean. You don't know me. I'm not your responsibility."
He's quiet for so long I think he's not going to answer. Then:
"Because it's the right thing to do."
"That's it? Just ... honor?"
"Is that not enough?"
I think about that. In my world — my old world — I've grown cynical about people's motivations. In my line of work, you see a lot of the worst of humanity. People who hurt children. Who exploit the vulnerable for profit.
But you also see the helpers. The foster parents who open their homes. The volunteers at the shelters. The case workers who go above and beyond because they care.
Small gestures matter. Actions count.
"Yeah," I say softly. "I guess it is enough."
We walk on through the glowing jungle, and despite everything — the fear, the confusion, the sheer impossibility of my situation — I feel something unfamiliar stirring in my chest.
Hope.
Maybe, just maybe, I'm going to survive this after all.