27. Carter

TWENTY-SEVEN

CARTER

Chapter 27

I never thought I'd end up here, light-years away from everything I'd ever known. After those damn high-profile trials splashed across every holo-screen in the galaxy, my face became too recognizable for comfort. Witness protection, they called it. Exile, is what it felt like.

No more Earth, no more Arc Royal. Just me, shipped off to some planet, expected to start a new life with a new identity. Fucking fantastic. As I stared out the viewport of the transport ship, watching the stars blur by, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd made the right choice in testifying. But what's done is done, and now I'm stuck dealing with the consequences of my actions. At least I'm still breathing, I guess. That's more than I can say for some of the others involved in that shitstorm. The powers that be, in their infinite wisdom, decided to make me an accountant at a Glimner casino. The irony wasn't lost on me – from scientist to alien chieftain to number-cruncher. Life had a sick sense of humor.

"Hey, Reed! You gonna stare at those screens all day or actually do some work?" my supervisor, a portly Glimner named Zax, bellowed from across the room.

I sighed, turning back to the holographic displays floating before me. "Just double-checking the numbers, Zax. Wouldn't want to miss a single credit, would we?"

Zax snorted, his multiple eyes blinking in rapid succession. "That's what I like about you, Reed. Always so... meticulous."

As I dove back into the sea of figures and transactions, my mind wandered to my true passion – documenting the Masari culture. Every night, after my shift ended, I'd rush back to my cramped apartment and lose myself in memories.

"Computer, continue personal log entry," I said as I collapsed into my chair later that evening. "The Masari celebration of Jhalshagar isn't just about finding a soulmate. It's a recognition of the interconnectedness of all living things..."

Hours passed as I spoke, my words painting a picture of a world and a people that now existed only in my mind. When I finally finished, exhaustion settling into my bones, I couldn't help but wonder if anyone would ever believe me.

"End log," I muttered, rubbing my eyes. The computer chimed in acknowledgment, and I found myself staring at the wall of data I'd compiled over the past months.

I leaned back in my chair, the hum of the computer fading into the background as my mind drifted to Arael. God, I missed her. The ache in my chest felt as fresh as the day I'd woken up in this world, realizing she was gone.

"Fuck," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. I could almost smell her scent, that strange mix of spice and something alien that I'd grown to love.

I closed my eyes, and suddenly I was back there, in our home on the Masari world. Arael's scales glimmered in the soft light as she moved around the kitchen, humming a tune I'd never quite managed to learn.

"Gro," she called, her voice a melody I'd give anything to hear again. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me with dinner?"

I chuckled, the sound catching in my throat. "Sorry, love. I was just admiring the view."

She turned, those mesmerizing eyes locking onto mine. "Flatterer," she teased, but I saw the pleased flush creeping up her neck.

The memory faded, leaving me alone in my sterile apartment. I slammed my fist on the desk, anger and grief warring inside me.

"Dammit, Arael," I whispered, my voice breaking. "How am I supposed to do this without you?"

I stood up abruptly, pacing the small room. My eyes landed on the lumina horn sitting on a shelf. I'd managed to recreate a crude version of it, but it was a pale imitation of the real thing.

With trembling hands, I picked it up, bringing it to my lips. The light show that emerged was clumsy and disjointed, nothing like the beautiful patterns Arael could create. But as I played, pouring my heart into the discordant notes, I felt a little closer to her.

When I finally lowered the horn, my cheeks were wet with tears I hadn't realized I'd shed. The loss hit me anew, a gaping wound that refused to heal.

"I love you, Arael," I whispered to the empty room. "Always. And forever. Until the stars refuse to shine."

Only emptiness answered me back.

"What's the point?" I asked the empty room. "No proof, no credibility. Just the ramblings of a man who claims to have lived another life."

But even as doubt gnawed at me, I knew I couldn't stop. The Masari, my family, Arael – they deserved to be remembered. So I'd keep writing, keep documenting, hoping that someday, somehow, the truth would come out.