Samira

SAMIRA

T he hot spring’s steam curled around us, easing the chill that ran down my spine. I turned away, busying myself with securing the sample containers.

“We should get moving,” I said, my voice unnaturally high. “It’ll be dark soon.”

Arkon grunted in agreement, but still didn’t move. His presence loomed behind me, a solid wall of warmth that made my belly coil with awareness. I shouldered my pack, trying to ignore how my body yearned to lean back into him.

“Which way?” he asked.

I pointed northeast. “There’s a ridge about ten kilometers from here. We can make camp there for the night.”

We set off in silence, the lush Kervant-9 jungle closing in around us. Ferns brushed against my legs, leaving damp trails on my pants. The rich, earthy scent of decaying vegetation filled my nostrils.

I cleared my throat, searching for something to say that wouldn’t betray the chaos of emotions swirling inside me.

“So... nice weather we’re having,” I muttered, immediately cringing at my own banality.

Arkon’s red eyes flicked towards me, a hint of amusement in their depths. “If you enjoy suffocating humidity and the constant threat of carnivorous plants, sure.”

I let out a strangled laugh. “Right. Stupid thing to say.”

Thoughts tumbled over each other in a frantic scramble. What did that kiss mean? Was it just the heat of the moment? Did he regret it?

No. The mission. That’s what mattered. Not the way Arkon’s lips had felt against mine, or how his strong arms had held me close.

We pushed on through the dense foliage. The weight of my decision pressed down on me with each step. If I was wrong about the outpost, if we couldn’t create the counteragent... I didn’t want to think about the consequences.

As the light began to fade, I noticed an eerie glow. I held up a hand, signaling Arkon to stop.

“Look,” I whispered, pointing to a clearing ahead.

A field of glowing plants stretched before us, their delicate fronds swaying in a nonexistent breeze. The ethereal blue-green light pulsed rhythmically, almost hypnotically.

“Beautiful,” Arkon murmured.

“And deadly,” I added. “Those are Lumina Vorax. Carnivorous. One touch and they’ll inject you with a paralytic toxin.”

Arkon’s hand moved to his weapon. “How do we get past them?”

I studied the field, noting the patterns in the plants’ movements. “We’ll have to time it carefully. See how they pulse? There’s a brief moment when they’re less reactive. If we move quickly and precisely, we can make it through.”

I demonstrated the timing, stepping forward just as the glow dimmed, then freezing in place as it brightened. Arkon nodded, understanding.

We began our careful dance through the deadly flora. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I concentrated on each movement. Left foot, pause. Right foot, pause. My heart beat like a drum in my chest.

Suddenly, a vine lashed out, wrapping around my ankle. I gasped, losing my balance. With lightning speed, Arkon’s arm shot out. His hand closed around the vine, crushing it. The plant released me with a high-pitched keening sound.

Arkon pulled me close, steadying me. His other hand still gripped his blade, dripping with luminescent sap.

“Did it get you?” he asked, his breath warm against my ear.

I shook my head, unable to speak. The danger of our situation hit me full force. If Arkon hadn’t been there...

We made it through the rest of the field without incident, but my nerves were frayed. As we reached the other side, I stumbled on a root hidden beneath the leaf litter. My foot slipped, and I fell towards a patch of sickly yellow-green vegetation.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist, yanking me back. I collided with Arkon’s chest, my breath leaving me in a rush.

“Careful,” he said, his voice low and rough.

I nodded, all too aware of the deadly plant’s effects. “Thank you,” I whispered.

Arkon’s arms tightened fractionally, and I felt the rapid beat of his heart against my back. Time seemed to stretch, neither of us moving. The air crackled with unspoken tension.

Finally, reluctantly, Arkon released me. I stepped away, my skin cold where his warmth had been.

“We should find a place to make camp,” I blurted. “It’s not safe to travel at night.”

Arkon nodded, and stepped back, face a blank mask. “Lead the way.”

I pushed forward, each step becoming more laborious as we ascended the steepening terrain. The jungle’s humidity clung to my skin, my clothes damp with sweat. My muscles ached, protesting the relentless pace we’d maintained since leaving the hot springs.

“We should reach the ridge soon,” I said, more to reassure myself than inform Arkon.

He grunted in acknowledgment, his keen eyes scanning our surroundings. I tripped over a protruding root, my fatigue making me clumsy. Before I could fall, Arkon’s hand steadied my elbow.

“Thanks,” I muttered, embarrassed by my weakness.

“We can rest if you need to,” he offered, his tone neutral.

I shook my head stubbornly. “No, we need to make it to the ridge before dark.”

As if on cue, the light began to fade and the jungle came alive with nocturnal sounds - chirps, rustles, and distant howls that set my nerves on edge.

“There,” Arkon pointed. Through a break in the foliage, I spotted a rocky outcropping.

A knot in my chest loosened as we approached. The elevated position would provide a decent vantage point, and the rocks offered some protection from the elements and wildlife.

“This’ll do,” I said, dropping my pack with a grateful sigh.

We fell into an awkward dance of setting up camp. I fumbled with the portable shelter while Arkon efficiently cleared the area and set up a perimeter alarm. Our movements brought us close, then apart, in a strange choreography that left me acutely aware of his presence.

As darkness fell, we huddled around the small, flameless heater, sharing a meager meal of protein bars and purified water. The soft blue glow cast eerie shadows across Arkon’s angular features.

“Tell me about your past,” he said abruptly, breaking the silence.

I blinked, surprised by the request. “There’s not much to tell,” I deflected automatically.

Arkon’s gaze remained steady. “I disagree.”

I sighed, absently toying with the wrapper of my protein bar. “I grew up in a human labor camp on a Krelaxian agricultural colony. Not exactly a childhood filled with fond memories.”

“How did you become a scientist?”

The question caught me off guard. Most people didn’t care about a human’s history, let alone how we achieved any measure of success.

“I... I had a talent for botany,” I explained. “A Zeqnid scientist noticed and fought for me to get an education. It wasn’t easy. Lots of discrimination, lots of people who thought I didn’t belong.” I shrugged. “But I proved them wrong.”

“Discrimination?” Arkon asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “People didn’t really believe a pathetic human refugee from a failed planet could amount to much of anything. I mean, think about it. You think of a human female and you either think she’s a whore or a waitress. You don’t think of her as a scientist”

“I suppose you’re right,” Arkon said matter-of-factly as I winced. “But you got through it.”

“I had to study harder than everyone else,” I said. “I couldn’t just do well in classes, I had to be better than everyone else to get the same amount of respect that others were just handed for showing up.”

Arkon nodded, a flicker of something - respect? - in his eyes. “And now you’re here, trying to save the galaxy.”

I laughed humorlessly. “If I don’t screw it all up first.”

“You won’t,” he said with surprising conviction.

I looked at him, and in that moment, I felt the weight of everything unsaid between us. The kiss we shared. The growing bond neither of us acknowledged. I looked away first, suddenly overwhelmed.

“We should get some sleep,” I murmured.

As I lay in the shelter, sleep eluded me. The flood of mental noise drowned out everything else around me. The mission, the kiss, the uncertain future that stretched before us. The memory of Arkon’s lips on mine sent a shiver through me, desire warring with practicality.

I tossed and turned, the events of the past days playing on an endless loop. What if I couldn’t synthesize the counteragent? What if we were too late? What if-

Exhaustion finally dragged me under, but my dreams offered no respite.

The darkness pressed in, suffocating. I blinked, trying to orient myself, but the inky blackness remained impenetrable. My pulse hammered in my chest, each beat louder than the last.

Where was I?

Then it hits me. The cell. I was back in the Consortium’s cell.

No. No, no, no.

I reached out, my hands trembling. Cold metal met my fingertips. The walls. Too close. Getting closer.

Panic clawed at my throat. I spun around, feeling the edges of my prison. Smaller. It was getting smaller.

I spotted a faint green glow. My breath hitched. The mind control plant. Its tendrils curled towards me, reaching, grasping.

I ran to the far wall, but there was nowhere to go. The cell shrank, the plant grew, and I couldn’t escape.

“Please,” I whimpered. “Don’t take my mind. Don’t take my will.”

The tendrils brushed my skin. I screamed.

“?” Arkon’s voice cut through my terror. He knelt beside me, concern etched on his face.

I opened my mouth to reassure him, but a sob escaped instead. Without a word, Arkon gathered me into his arms.

His hand stroked my back in soothing circles as I cried silently against his chest. He didn’t offer empty platitudes or useless questions. He simply held me, a solid anchor in the storm of my emotions.

As my tears subsided, I was suddenly aware of our closeness. Arkon’s warmth enveloped me, his scent filled my senses. I should have pulled away, maintained some professional distance. Instead, I burrowed closer.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be,” Arkon replied, his arms tightening around me.