Chapter 15
RYCHNE
I’m kneeling at the workbench in the basement lab, fingers fiddling with the frequency dampener on my image inducer—a slender device barely larger than a holo-pen, designed to blur the line between Alien Rychne and Human Richard.
I should calibrate its tonal settings, but instead, I’m listening to my heartbeat—loud, rapid, like a war drum gone off tempo.
The bond’s pulsing now, insistent. It thrums in my chest, a breadcrumb trail trailing straight to Nessa.
It amplifies every whisper of her perfume drifting through open windows, every glimpse of her laugh riding across the lawn, every hesitant touch of our fingers on that fence-line boundary.
It doesn’t feel like fate anymore—it feels like gravity, dragging me nearer despite all protocols.
I clear the cluttered bench—mirrors, circuitry, half-finished circuits—and pull the dampener closer. I know I need it off. To be real. To be honest. It's terrifying. Exposure has always meant vulnerability. But this, this is a kind of surrender I’ve craved without realizing.
Then a voice cuts through the basement’s humming silence:
“I am certain you’re not from around here.”
It’s Sammy. She’s perched on the top rung of the ladder, arms crossed, eyes locked on me—no fear, no hesitation. Just clarity.
I look up. Her expression is fierce with conviction, expectation.
“Just tell me what planet already,” she says, tone firm. Not accusatory—more... exasperated. Like I’m late returning a library book she’s been waiting on.
I swallow. My chest tightens.
The dampener lies heavy in my hand—key to pretending. But now… it feels like a barrier.
I hesitate only a moment. Then I reach out and flick the switch.
The device shutters. The basement lights flicker.
My skin shimmers.
A ripple of crimson scales washes outward, covering my arms, chest, limbs. Golden eyes ignite in the shadow between lashes. My height stretches, body shifting; what was human becomes Vakutan. Claws remain tucked but visible beneath gaiters—but they don’t matter.
I stand tall. Towering. Red warrior among soggy cardboard boxes and glowing lab cables.
Sammy blinks. I hold my breath.
She whispers, “I knew it.”
Pizza boxes splay across the coffee table like alien artifacts, pepperoni-scented and greasy.
A quartet of juice boxes lines the surface like sentries.
I sit on the couch—my true form wrapped in deep red scales, golden eyes flicking between Sammy, glued to the table, and Nessa, pacing like a caged predator.
The tremor in her voice cracks me, “Holy—fucking—Jesus!”
Her curse rattles the quiet living room. I flinch, heart pounding, nostrils flaring at the scent of fresh herbs and heat from the pepperoni. The hum of suburban normality stabs me: lawnmowers outside, a car door clang, the stray thrum of air conditioners.
I steady my breath.
Sammy, wide-eyed and delighted, raises her hand. “Okay, LOTS of questions.”
Nessa stalks a path around the rug, eyes narrowed. “This isn’t some cosplay charade, Richard. You just blew up—no, reinvented—the entire concept of my life.”
I rise to my full height—seven-foot-two in human terms but closer to eight in Vakutan scale. The ceiling creaks. I feel the thickness of the air, the weight of curiosity, fear, and fragile trust.
“I understand.” My voice is steady, calmer than the storm of my emotions. “And I’m not asking you to accept this. I’m explaining because you deserve truth.”
She stops pacing. The giant tabby cat crosses her path and flees; the tension is palpable enough to warp the air. Slowly, I sit, leaning forward, scales catching the light—like copper under a lamp.
“I’m from the Vakutan Empire. It’s centuries into your future, after the Coalition-Vakutan War—the Great Centuries War. I was in space, piloting a starfighter, when I jumped. A malfunction sent me through a superluminal rift into 2025 Earth. Your world. Your time.”
I trace a shard of light on the floor with my gaze. “I tried to survive by hiding—denying what I am. I never expected… this.” I straighten, eyes lifting to Nessa. “The bond triggered when I met you, Vanessa. Jalshagar—the bond says we are mates.”
Her laugh is low and bitter. “You think just because your alien magic picked me, I’m yours now?”
Her voice shakes like freezing tea. “That’s not how it works, Richard. I have a choice.”
I close my eyes briefly, tasting bourbon on my own breath in my repressed memory. “Yes.”
Softness in my voice. “You do.”
Sammy pipes up: “So… he’s actually from outer space?”
I nod, meeting her gaze. “Yes. And I know how it sounds.”
Nessa uncrosses her arms, jaw taut. “So you’re going to keep doing this—lying—pretending—until you actually own me by cosmic decree?”
“I’m not asking you to be mine,” I say honestly, voice laced in weariness and sincerity. “I’m offering an invitation.”
Her eyes shimmer—tears pricking the corners. “And if I say no?”
I shift, sitting back. “Then I will honor your need for distance. I will step back.”
Silence hums. The cat returns, padding between my legs. I stroke it—cool fur against my palm.
“But,” I continue, "I hope that’s not what you want.”
Nessa turns away, blinking furiously. “This is… insane.”
“Then feel free to leave,” I say quietly, voice neutral but heart racing. “I won’t hold you here.”
She hesitates. Pizza steam rises between us. The suburban sounds persist—uninvited witnesses.
Sammy looks between us. “Mom?”
Nessa closes her eyes, exhales. I hold my breath.
Her words slice deeper than I imagined. In Vakutan culture, the Jalshagar bond is hallowed—a pledge between mates, forged in blood and destiny. Yet even we know that a bond never overrides the other’s consent. To force one’s will is to desecrate the sacred.
Still… the sting of rejection burns hotter than any plasma blast. She might not realize it, but every syllable cuts deeper than any battlefield scar. My tail tightens—an unconscious reflex of stress—and my claws press into the carpet beneath my knees.
She’s right, of course. She always is.
In that crowded suburban living room—pizza fumes, spilled juice boxes, the hum of normalcy—I feel like a cosmic intruder.
Every fiber of my being urges me to intercede: protect her from moral compromise, shield her from Lipnicky’s schemes, stand sentinel against the world’s cruelty.
This is what a mate does. This is what the Jalshagar bond commands. But… I have no right.
So I bow my head, the scarlet scales of my neck whispering under my breath. My voice becomes a gentle rumble, like a lullaby for a battle-weary soul:
“You are not mine.”
It echoes through the silence, collapsing walls I built around my heart. “Unless you choose to be.”
I raise my eyes. On the couch, Nessa stares at me—still, bright-eyed, mouth parted. I don’t know how much she comprehended. I don’t know what she’ll say next.
But then she whispers: “That’s the first real thing you’ve said all night.”
Her voice is quiet, distant, but steady. Something flickers in her eyes: raw, real surprise. Maybe respect. Maybe… something more.
Not acceptance yet—but not rejection.
The air shakes between us; the moment stretches. I exhale slowly, releasing weeks’ worth of tension.
I shift, letting my human posture reassert itself: one foot forward, one backward, hands loose at my sides. The jar of our bond is open—unsure, unfinished, but undeniably present.
I glance toward Sammy, who leans against the wall, expression eager. More questions burning behind those tenacious eyes, but I let them wait.
I turn back to Nessa. “I will wait,” I promise softly. “As long as you need.”
Her jaw clenches, head tilts. She doesn’t move. The minutes stretch. Then:
She exhales, low. She stands and crosses to me—the sound of her feet creaking on the wood-floor. She reaches out and rests a hand on my scaled forearm.
That touch, it hums through me like a song I’ve never heard but always remembered.
I do not respond. I do not lean in. I stand still, allowing her autonomy to guide us.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Silence returns—but it’s not empty.
It’s the quiet resignation of a truce.
It’s the fragile heartbeat of possibility.
It’s the space between two converging orbits—charged, hopeful, uncertain.
And as I stand in her presence, aware of every rasp of her breath and tender tremor in her voice, I know the bond is more than cosmic magic.
It’s a choice we will have to make.
Together.