Klaz

KLAZ

T he warmth of her body lingered on my skin, a ghost of contact that refused to fade. I watched Cinta slip away through the crowded atrium, her auburn hair catching the light before she disappeared around a corner. My fingers twitched, yearning to reach out and pull her back.

Foolish. I was far too old for such childish notions.

I turned back to the viewport, willing the stars to distract me from thoughts of soft skin and mischievous eyes. The Empyrean Explorer hummed beneath my feet as it prepared for the jump to FTL. Outside, pinpricks of light stretched into brilliant streaks, painting the void in hues of blue and white.

“Did you see that human woman earlier?” A nasal voice cut through the quiet murmur of the lounge. “The one in the green dress?”

“Oh yes,” another passenger replied. “Quite the charmer, wasn’t she? Said something about owning casinos on Centauri Prime.”

I clenched my fist, frustration bubbling up inside me. Even here, I couldn’t escape her.

I’d spent years building walls around myself, yet this human woman had somehow slipped past them in a matter of hours. She was so young, so full of life. I was ancient by comparison, with decades of baggage and regret. It was illogical, reckless even, but I couldn’t deny the connection I felt to Cinta.

“Mysterious little thing,” the first voice continued. “I wonder what her story is.”

I’d seen enough con artists to recognize one, no matter how skilled. Yet something about Cinta felt... different. Genuine, despite the obvious lies. It was maddening.

With a low growl, I pushed away from the viewport. I needed solitude, away from prying eyes and gossip. The corridors of the ship were a maze of opulence – rich fabrics and gleaming metals that spoke of wealth beyond measure. As I strode through them, I felt the curious glances of other passengers. Some shrank back, intimidated. Others stared openly, fascinated by the sight of a Vinduthi.

Let them look. I had long ago stopped caring what others thought of me.

My cabin door opened to reveal a space that was luxurious by any standard. Yet as I stepped inside, the walls seemed to close in around me. I paced the length of the room, my steps muffled by plush carpet.

Everything here was a facade. The ornate furniture couldn’t hide the fact that this was just another cell, floating in the endless void of space.

I sank into a chair, pulling out my datapad. Work. That’s what I needed. A distraction from these ridiculous thoughts. I pulled up the ship’s security protocols, determined to lose myself in the familiar routine of threat assessment.

But as I scrolled through passenger manifests and deck plans, my mind wandered. I saw myself on a dusty street, my blaster raised. A child’s scream. Blood on my hands that no amount of washing could remove.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the memories away. This was why I had retired. Why I had no business thinking about a human woman with a bright smile, or anyone else.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized I had been staring at her name on the manifest for far too long. With a growl of frustration, I closed the file.

It didn’t matter. She was young, vibrant. Full of life and possibility.

And I... I was ancient. Used up. A relic of battles long past.

I tossed the datapad aside and stood, my restlessness driving me back towards the door. Perhaps a walk would clear my head.

But as my hand touched the panel, I hesitated. Out there lay only more temptation, more reminders of what I could never have.

I turned back to the empty room, resigned to my self-imposed isolation.

It was for the best. For everyone.