6. Hakan
Hakan
Iwait until the boys have finished eating and are settled by the fire before I pull out the communicator from my pack. It's a small device, heavily encrypted, that allows me to send compressed data bursts to the Commander without revealing my location.
"What's that?" Daisy asks, moving closer.
"Communicator. I need to update the Commander on what we found."
She nods, her expression growing serious. "The experiments. The children. The wormhole technology."
"All of it."
I activate the device and begin recording my report, Daisy and the boys listening closely.
I detail everything — finding Daisy, the lab's layout, the prisoners we found, the boys we rescued, and what the boys learned about the Grokkans’ frustration with their wormhole tech and leaving the lab in a hurry.
I end with two requests: permission to rescue the remaining prisoners in the lab, and for the Commander to research the location and status of the boys’ grandfather.
When I finish, I attach the data from the storage device I manifested earlier and send it all in a burst transmission that lasts less than three seconds.
"Will he respond?" Daisy asks.
"Not immediately. He'll need to analyze the data first. And he'll want to be careful about communications — the Grokkans could be monitoring for signals."
As if to prove me wrong, the communicator vibrates. A response, already?
I open the message and read the Commander's brief text:
*Good work. Will investigate the boys’ grandfather and consider rescue request. Report when you reach your farm.*
I read the message aloud and see hope flare in the boys’ eyes.
*He’s going to look for Grandfather?* Riz's mental voice is suddenly in my head, eager and desperate.
I focus on the boys, both sitting up now, their orange eyes wide and anxious.
"He will investigate," I tell them gently. "I can't promise what he'll find, but he'll try."
*Grandfather was teaching us to shield our thoughts,* Davi sends, his mental voice quavering. *We were getting good at it. But then the Grokkans came and everything happened so fast and we got separated and — *
*We don't know if he's alive,* Riz finishes, and the anguish makes my chest tighten.
Daisy moves to sit beside them, her hand gentle on Riz's shoulder. "Hey. Listen to me. We're going to do everything we can to find him. The Commander is good at finding people, right, Hakan?"
I nod. "He has resources. Contacts throughout the galaxy. If your grandfather is alive, the Commander will find him."
*And if he's not?* Davi asks, his mental voice so small I can barely hear it.
The question hangs in the air. I could offer empty reassurances. But these boys have been lied to enough.
"If he's not," I say carefully, "then you'll honor his memory by surviving. By becoming strong. By living the life he would have wanted for you."
The boys stay quiet, processing this. Then Riz sends, his mental voice steadier now:
*You'll help us? Even if Grandfather is gone?*
"Yes."
*Why?*
It's a fair question. Why would a Kravan warrior take responsibility for two Andreevan children he barely knows?
"Because it's the right thing to do," I tell them. "Because you deserve protection. Because no child should face this galaxy alone."
Daisy is looking at me with an expression I can't quite read — something warm and soft that makes me want to look away.
*We're very tired,* Davi sends, his mental voice fading. *Is it okay if we sleep now?*
"Of course," Daisy says. "You need rest."
I gather some of the softer vegetation from near the cave entrance. Daisy and I create makeshift bedding for the boys. It's not much, but it's better than the rocky ground.
The twins curl up together, their small bodies pressed close, and within minutes they're asleep — the deep, exhausted sleep of those who've been running on fear and adrenaline for too long.
Daisy sits beside them, watching over them with fierce protectiveness. In the firelight, her red curls glow like burnished copper, her profile soft and lovely.
"They're so young," she says quietly. "They shouldn't have had to go through any of this."
"No. They shouldn't."
"Do you really think the Commander will find their grandfather?"
"I don't know. But I meant what I said — if their grandfather is alive, the Commander will locate him."
"And if he's not? You really meant that too? About helping them?"
"Yes."
"Even though you barely know them? Even though you have your own mission, your own life?"
I meet her gaze across the fire. "Daisy, my people were scattered across the galaxy when the Grokkans destroyed our world. We survived because other beings — strangers — chose to help us when they didn't have to. I owe that debt forward."
She frowns, clearly confused. “Wait, you just said….” She pauses, her voice becoming emotional. "The Grokkans destroyed your planet? Your whole planet?"
"Yes."
"My God,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
I push back a wave of emotion as my grief returns with a vengeance.
Her voice is barely a whisper. “When did it happen?"
"Five years ago.” Five years since everything and everyone I’ve ever known and loved was destroyed.
Five years since the universe I knew turned to ash.
“I was off-world on a mission. I survived because I wasn't home. A few thousand of us are all that’s left, most of warriors who survived because we were scattered throughout the galaxy on various assignments. "
"But everyone else?"
"Gone." The word comes out flat. Emotionless. Because if I let myself feel the full weight of it, I'll break. "The Grokkans used planetary bombardment weapons. Scorched the surface. Killed a billion people.”
Her hand moves to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine.…”
"Neither can I. Not really. Even after five years."
"Is that why you're here? On this planet, I mean?”
"I came here because I needed ... distance. Somewhere I could work with my hands and not think about what was taken from me.”
“Is it just you here?”
“I have Javardian neighbors about a day’s travel away.”
“Any visitors?”
I shake my head.
“What about your Commander?”
“Investigating the lab is the first mission he's given me since Krava fell."
She's quiet, studying me with those compassionate green eyes. "Can I ask you something?"
"You can ask."
"Your hassana bands. Earlier, you used them to create tools. To open locks. I still don’t get how that works.”
I look down at the golden bands circling my upper arms. In the firelight, they gleam softly.
"They're part of us," I tell her. "Fused to our bodies when we complete our warrior training. They're connected to our life force, our will. With focus and energy, we can manifest objects we need to survive.”
"Any object?"
"Within limits. The manifestations require energy — the more complex the object, the more it drains us.
And we can only create things we truly understand.
I can manifest weapons because I've trained with them for years.
Tools because I've used them. But I can’t manifest, say, a piece of advanced technology I've never studied. "
"That's incredible." She leans forward slightly, her curiosity evident. "Are they sensitive? You mentioned that earlier."
“Very sensitive. Highly attuned to touch."
Something in the way she looks at them — with open fascination — makes heat curl in my gut. I imagine her fingers tracing the metal, imagine the sensation of her touch against that sensitive surface, and have to force the thought away.
She’s so beautiful, her skin soft and glowing in the flickering firelight. Unbidden, my shaft hardens, pressing against my tight pants.
Thankfully, she hasn’t noticed my arousal. ”Can I..." She hesitates. "Would it be okay if I touched them? Just to see?"
I want her to touch them, I realize. “It can be a lot for me to process. The sensation is ... significant."
"Oh." Color rises in her cheeks and she pulls her hand back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to —"
"You didn't do anything wrong." I take a breath, trying to steady myself. "It's just that the bands are very sensitive. Having someone touch them is almost like…." I trail off, still not sure if I should say it.
"Like what?"
"Like being touched intimately."
Her eyes widen with understanding, and the color in her cheeks deepens. “Oh, gosh. I definitely shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize for being curious." I force myself to look away from her, back to the fire, willing my cock to calm the fuck down. "It's natural to want to understand things that are new to you."
We sit in silence for a moment, the air between us charged with electricity.
"Can I ask you something else?" she finally says.
"Yes."
"What was Krava like? Before the Grokkans destroyed it?"
The question catches me off-guard. Most beings don't ask about Krava — they offer condolences and change the subject quickly, uncomfortable with the enormity of the loss.
But Daisy is watching me with genuine interest, waiting to hear about a world she'll never see. Is this a skill she’s learned as part of her training as a social worker, or just part of who she’s always been?
"Beautiful," I hear myself say. "The cities were built into the sides of mountains, carved from blue-white stone that glowed in the sunlight. We had three moons, and at night the sky would fill with their light — silver and gold and pale green."
I can see it in my mind's eye — the view from my family's dwelling, looking out over the valley where the training grounds sprawled, where young warriors practiced with weapons that sang in the wind.
"There were forests of trees with silver leaves that would chime like bells when the wind blew. Rivers that ran clear and cold from the mountains. Cities full of life and laughter and —" My voice catches. "It was home."
"It sounds wonderful," Daisy says softly.
"It was."
Her gaze is full of compassion. “You carry guilt about not being there to defend against the attack.”
Emotion rushes through me. Tears fills my eyes. "We were days away when we got word. By the time we returned, there was nothing left to return to."
"That's — I can't imagine.”
“We should have been there to protect them."
"It wasn't your fault," she says fiercely. "You know that, right? You couldn't have known what would happen."
"Knowing that and feeling that are different things."
She nods, understanding in her eyes. "I lost my parents eight years ago.
Car accident. It was sudden — one day they were here, the next they were gone.
And I kept thinking about all the times I'd been too busy to visit, all the calls I didn't return because I was working late. The guilt ... it's heavy, isn't it?"
"Yes." I look at her across the fire, this human female who somehow understands.
“After losing my parents, I threw myself into my work — helping families, trying to make a difference. It helped, having a purpose. Something that mattered."
“Have you always been a social worker?"
“Since finishing college, yes. I’ve always wanted to help people. But after my parents died, it became more urgent. Like I needed to prove that I could make things better, even if I couldn't save them."
I understand that drive — the need to protect, to save, to make up for the ones you couldn't help.
"You're good at helping others," I tell her. "I've watched you with the boys. You knew exactly what they needed."
She smiles, but there's sadness in it. "I work with a lot of kids. Families in crisis. Children who've been through trauma. When I saw those boys in the lab…." She shakes her head. "I wanted to burn the whole place down."
"So did I.”
“In your message to your Commander, you said something about rescuing the other prisoners there?”
I nod. “They need to be freed.”
“Will the Commander let you rescue them?”
“If not me, then he’ll send someone else.”
She pauses. “About the boys…. What will happen to them? If we can't find their grandfather?"
It’s a question I've thinking about.
"I don't know. The Commander might know of other Andreevans who could take them. Or..." I pause, unsure if I should voice the thought that's been growing in my mind since we freed them.
"Or?" she prompts.
"Or I could keep them. Raise them myself."
Her eyes widen. "Really? You'd do that?"
"I have land. Resources. The ability to protect them. And..." I glance at the sleeping boys, curled together by the fire. "They deserve better than being shuffled between strangers. They deserve someone who will fight for them."
"That's..." She blinks rapidly, and I realize there are tears in her eyes. "That's really beautiful, Hakan."
"It's practical," I say gruffly, uncomfortable with the emotion in her voice.
"No. It's kind. It's selfless. It's —" She wipes at her eyes. "Sorry. I'm just tired and emotional and apparently I cry now when blue warriors say incredibly sweet things about adopting orphaned children."
Despite everything, I find myself almost smiling. "You should rest. You've been through more today than most beings experience in a lifetime."
"So have you."
"I'm trained for this. You're not."
She looks like she wants to argue, but exhaustion wins out. She moves to lie down with the boys, using her arm as a pillow.
"Thank you," she says softly. "For everything. For saving me. For protecting the boys. For being ... you."
Before I can respond, she's settled down beside the children, her eyes already drifting closed.
I tend the fire, keeping it low but steady, and settle in to keep watch. Outside, the jungle sings its eternal song — clicks and whistles, rustles and roars, the endless symphony of life.
Inside our small cave, three beings sleep — two children I've vowed to protect and one human female who's somehow worked her way past all my defenses in less than two days.
I watch Daisy sleep, the firelight playing across her face, and feel something in my chest that I haven't felt in five years.
Hope.
Dangerous, foolish hope.
I know I shouldn't feel this way. She's human. From a different world. She wants to return to Earth.
But watching her sleep beside the boys, seeing the fierce protectiveness she showed them, the courage she displayed….
I can't help but imagine a future where she stays. Where we raise the boys together. Where this cave in the jungle is just the beginning of something bigger.
It's a foolish dream. An impossible dream.
And yet….