Chapter 26

Ravok

Leelee lifts her chin, stalking away towards the washroom with the bearing of a Cryzor queen. An annoyed Cryzor queen. Based on my time with human scientists, I know that my accelerated healing is shocking to her people, so I understand she is just trying to help me to the best of her understanding. The splint is unnecessary for my healing. As this morning demonstrated, I don't want a hindrance if we come into danger. I don't want anything in my way if I need to defend us. It could prove the difference between life and death. And I will not allow anything to hurt Leelee after she's gone to such trouble to help me.

As she stomps her foot in irritation, I battle an impromptu bout of laughter. She speaks again, the sounds clipped. Though I don't understand the words, I recognize the tone. She's just given me a command. That answers that question –not a slave. Knowing it will only upset her further, I swallow my laughter, keeping my face neutral. Her bravado, her sweet spitfire nature, it's admirable. Leelee is the most unexpected creature I have ever encountered. It's impossible to ignore the courage she has shown in dealing with me – a hard-hitting fact that commands my respect and, dare I say, fascination. I find myself falling, tumbling down the deep canyons of Leelee's intriguing personality – the empathy, kindness, and fire she displays in equal measures.

The memory of this morning's incident replays as a vivid tableau in my mind – I had watched from the corridor as Leelee's slight frame barred the doorway, blocking the intruder from entering. She had used her body as a shield – to protect me against one of her own people. Her aura of determination had temporarily frozen me, and I'd stood transfixed, a prisoner of my surprise.

I am at a loss. I cannot understand how to dissect her actions. Nothing about Leelee makes sense.

Despite the insignificant amount of fabric that barely covers her nudity, Leelee displays no fear. Not to the visitor earlier and not to me. On Cryzor, Outriders are feared and respected. Yet here she is – this tiny, soft being – lecturing me. I can't help but feel a flutter of unfamiliar mirth, and a begrudging respect.

I suppress a grin as Leelee lectures me. I know that she is trying to sound stern and severe, although her sweet voice betrays the softness of her character. Finally, she throws her hands up and stalks off.

"Thank you, Leelee," I call after her as a peace offering. She turns on her heels and returns my stare. We hold each other's gaze for a long, silent moment. The weight of unsaid words and thoughts hang heavy between us.

Leelee dips her head in acknowledgment, then heads into the washroom. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. As I listen to her getting dressed, my mind replays the previous few minutes. A vivid vision of Leelee on her knees, clad in nothing more than a scrap of fabric, leaning over my lap, hovering her face mere inches away from my cock fills my mind. I keep replaying the moment when she realized how close to my genitals she was in my mind's eye. The shocked, and perhaps almost greedy, look on her face, the flush working its way up her throat and settling on her cheeks. The heat of her trembling exhale blowing over my cock. The gentle swell of her breasts peeking over the top of the damp fabric. The way she bit her lip in a way that turned my mind into chaos. The plumpness of her lips had suddenly caught my attention in a way I can't explain. I had to clench my hands to keep from reaching out to brush a thumb against her plump bottom lip. I'd had to suppress the sudden urge to lift my hips the smallest amount and brush my cloth-covered cock against the underside of her chin.

I roughly rub my fists into my eye sockets, trying to remove the images from my mind.

It was a strange and stirring moment that pulses a peculiar sensation within me. Her embarrassment was evident, but so was something else… an awareness. She may have been avoiding my gaze, but her body's reactions didn't lie, and I could see in her fumbled movements, the flush of her skin, the tremble of her limbs, and the rush of her breaths that she recognized the gravity of the moment as well.

It's all emblazoned on my psyche, permanently etching that moment into my very fiber. I will carry the memory for all my days, I think.

While I am still occupied with my thoughts, Leelee returns to the room, now fully dressed. She speeds into the kitchen and swiftly fills a glass with water. As she hands me the glass, our fingers brush and she quickly snatches her hand away as if burned. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Once I finish the water, I hold the glass out for Leelee to take back. She seems to startle and return to herself, blinking at me uncertainly. When Leelee points at my lap, heat surges through my body, and I feel every muscle in my body quiver, at the ready. Leelee asks tentatively, "Ungry?"

I realize that she was pointing at my stomach, not my cock. I am an overeager idiot. Why did I react like that? My mind is in turmoil, and I'm having difficulty processing my chaotic feelings.

Realizing that Leelee is waiting for an answer, I dip my head. A wide, happy smile spreads across her face and she rushes back to her cooking area.

As a pan sizzles with the promise of hot food, I find myself in a surreal moment, wondering how I ended up in this absurd yet exhilarating situation.

A burst of orange leaps into my lap causing me to release a snarl. My instincts flare at the sudden movement, and I unthinkingly unsheathe my claws, ready to defend myself.

I huff in annoyance when I realize that it's just Mango. My jaw tightens as I contemplate shoving the creature off my lap, but a glance towards the kitchen gives me pause. With her soft hair piled atop her head, Leelee is leaning over a sizzling pan. She seems content, happy even, not noticing that I'd almost eviscerated her animal companion.

I watch warily as Mango circles my lap a few times before finally curling into a small, warm ball. Its throaty vibrations tickle against my skin, pulsing in a strange rhythm that I believe indicates contentment. Mango has the same sense of preservation as its owner to be at such ease that it commandeers my lap. The sheer audacity of assuming my thighs are available for bedding defies explanation. I stare at the soft, fluffy creature nestled in my lap, not sure what to do now.

Slowly, I run a hand down Mango's orange-furred back, imitating the way I've previously observed Leelee doing. I'm not sure what I expect. But the moment my fingers meet the silky fur, a feeling of warmth spreads into the palm of my hand. The sensation is unsettling, but the softness of the animal's coat is pleasant. Mango's vocal vibrations grow in volume and speed in response to my caressing. He issues a low, comforting rumble that vibrates under my fingertips.

I had planned to initiate the conquering of this planet, of making its people tremble before me and my people. To beg for mercy and receive none. Yet, here I am, a few days later, being conquered in return. But not by armies, not by force, but by the kindness of one human female and the rumbling purr of her orange-furred companion. The thought makes me recoil inwardly, but outwardly, I continue my exploration of Mango's soft fur, finding within the warmth and softness of the creature a sense of peace I'd never expected to discover on this strange, fascinating planet.

As I caress down along its spine, the creature starts to knead my legs with its small yet sharp claws, nipping through the pants Leelee provided me. Even that sensation is somehow pleasant.

After a few enjoyable minutes of stroking Mango, Leelee approaches me, holding two plates of food. She sets one on the table and offers the other one to me, along with an eating utensil. Leelee spots Mango on my lap and her face lights up.

"Mango ez maykin beezcutz," Leelee says with a grin.

When I reach for the plate, Mango makes a noise of complaint and jumps off my lap. He gives me an arch look that I return, annoyed that it left the security of my lap. However, I'm unwilling to grovel to get the animal to return. I am not its keeper and am unmoved by its ire. It can go to its mistress if it wants to be coddled. I look away, not willing to let Mango know that I'm bothered to see him go. Thankfully, my growling stomach distracts me from my ridiculous, unacceptable reaction.

My nostrils flare as savory aromas rise from the plate. I take the offered plate from Leelee's hand, careful not to brush my fingers against hers again. "Thank you, Leelee," I say slowly. Leelee dips her head at my words and gives me a happy grin, making me think she intuits my meaning.

She picks up the second plate and takes a seat next to me. She points to each item on her plate and names them. Egz, froot, baycun, and tohst.

The food's aroma tickles my senses, strange yet oddly appealing. At the first bite, I made an involuntary noise of appreciation, and her eyes lit up in delight.

"Ez gud, ya?" Leelee asks.

The froot and tohst are familiar yet different from what I've had in the past, and the baycun is some kind of fatty fried meat. The pale yellow egz are strange, a fluffy and soft curd of some sort. It's almost creamy but not sweet like I'd expected.

Mango hops up on the cushion beside Leelee, making plaintive, hungry sounds. Leelee strokes Mango's fur before setting him back down on the wooden floor, saying something that sounds like a soft reprimand – ignoring what appears to be the animal's indignation. Mango responds with a plaintive whine, twining around Leelee's slender ankles in an attempt to wheedle a treat.

Watching them, I am now confident that this creature is not livestock. The thought seems laughable now, considering the fuss Leelee gives it.

With a final sniff, Mango saunters away, its tail up and waving sinuously, its head held high and regal. I'd almost believe that the creature is Leelee's owner, not the other way around, because of how the animal behaves. Perhaps she is enslaved after all.

Once only crumbs are left on both our plates, we sit in silence, the only sounds being the lively calls of the avian animals outside. The silence is not uncomfortable.

"Steell ungry?" she asks me, breaking the quiet. I shake my head in negation and watch as she wordlessly gathers the dishes.

As she walks to the cooking area, I turn in my seat and watch as she quickly cleans up the area. I am used to being alone, so it is strange to share space with another. It's not unpleasant, just strange. I wish my translator worked so that we could truly communicate.

Once Leelee finishes her cleanup, she returns to where I wait. Looking around as if she doesn't know what to do with herself, she walks over to the fire and pokes at it for a moment with a preoccupied air. As she leans closer to the fire, the light flickers over her thick chestnut curls, the flames reflecting in her hazel eyes.

"Wat da ell du we du now?" Leelee mumbles to herself.

"Leelee?" I say, interrupting her talk.

When she turns, giving me her attention, I point towards the washroom. I mimic pushing the lever that removes waste in her sanitation system. I carefully keep from gesturing to my genitals since that seems to cause her distress. Leelee is intelligent enough that I believe she will understand my meaning without needing to cause her embarrassment.

Understanding lights up Leelee's eyes and she nods and comes over to help me. Once I am on my feet, I find that I can make it to the washroom unassisted. I try to wave Leelee off, but she still hovers at my elbows as if she plans to catch me if I fall. I would crush her under my weight, so I make sure to be careful on my walk down the hall. I close the washroom door on Leelee's concerned face, the thump echoing my sudden decision to refuse her well-meaning presence as I relieve myself. I smile as I listen to Leelee grumble on the other side of the door, but she respects my wish and doesn't reopen the door.

When I finish using the waste disposal system, I take a moment to clean myself up. I'm pleased that Leelee did a good enough job washing me yesterday that the stink from the human military facility no longer clings to my skin.

I swing the washroom door open, instantly catching sight of Leelee waiting for me. A soft smile pulls at her lips but worry lingers in her eyes. She holds up a small, long-handled brush and offers it to me. I try to decipher her intentions as she extends the object to me.

"Heere," she offers. Doing my best to keep any trace of suspicion from my features, I accept the object.

Leelee picks up another matching brush from the washroom counter. As soon as she picks up a small tube and squeezes a dollop of white paste onto the brush, a strong scent reaches my nose. It's not unpleasant but it still tickles my nose.

As soon as Leelee brings the brush to her mouth, I realize that it is a teeth cleaning apparatus.

Once she finishes scrubbing her teeth, she spits a frothy residue into the wash basin and rinses it away. It is certainly a primitive way to maintain oral hygiene, but I am thankful for anything at this point.

Nodding my understanding, I follow her demonstration. The taste is potent, and the sensation somewhat bizarre, yet not unpleasant. It is the first time that I have felt truly clean since I first arrived on this planet.

Leelee watches me with a bright smile on her face, her eyes glossy with an emotional sentiment that makes my throat tight. "Gud," she says softly, the delight palpable in her voice. I spit out the froth that had formed in my mouth. Leelee hands me a small cloth to wipe my mouth.

"Thank you, Leelee," I manage to utter, my tone threaded with gratitude.

Leelee gives me another bright smile and then backs up out of the washroom to allow me to exit. I start to follow her but wince when I put too much pressure on my ankle.

"Need elp?" Leelee asks, moving forward to offer support. I hesitate before accepting her assistance, uneasy with her proximity but aware of my weakened state.

Our steps are slow and measured as we move to the main room I've been mostly occupying since I woke here. It is a relatively comfortable seating area with soft furnishings. As we walk into the room, I notice a wooden checkered board placed on a table. It appears simplistic in nature, with tiny carved figures meticulously arranged in rows. Something about the arranged figures feels vaguely familiar.

"What is this?" I ask, gesturing towards the board layout.

"Datz ches," Leelee offers in return. Her voice holds a lilt of enthusiasm, her eyes lively at my interest in the board.

Once we reach the sofa, she helps me lower myself onto it. Relief washes over me as my aching body sinks into the soft leather. I pushed myself harder than I should've because I wanted to show Leelee that I could get to the washroom independently. Usually, I know better than to let my ego dictate my actions.

Leelee moves to retrieve the board, bringing it over for me to inspect.

She sets the board on the table in front of us and begins pointing out the carved pieces. I notice that there are two matching sets only differentiated by a difference in color. "Datz de keeng, de kween, beeshups, nietz, rukz, and dose er pawnz."

I eye the pieces carefully, memorizing the names. With gestures and words, Leelee shows me that each carved piece moves across the board in specific ways. She then goes around to the table's far side and pushes it closer to me. She grabs a chair and drags it over, sitting across the table from me with the ‘ches' between us. She points to the carved pieces closer to her and says, "Leelee's". Then she points to the ones near me and says, "Ravok's".

Leelee starts moving the pieces, each side taking a turn. I watch as she uses one of her beeshups to land on the space one of my pawnz occupies. She removes my pawn from the board and sets it to the side.

It's a simulated battle.

I'm immediately intrigued. Leelee demonstrates how the simulation works, moving more pieces and having one of my carved avatars defeat one of hers. The battle seems to be over when the ‘keeng' is defeated. I spent much time in my youth being trained in battle tactics using advanced simulators, but it is clear that although this is a primitive version of the same, it is still a viable tool for teaching strategy and critical thinking.

"Ches esa game," Leelee explains.

On its surface, this ‘game' might appear simple, rudimentary even, but something about it suggests depth and strategic complexity. I'm a bit impressed.

I indicate to Leelee that I understand what she is trying to show me and wave my fingers to show her that I want to try. As she replaces her pieces to their original starting spots, I mimic her actions, carefully placing them in their respective positions opposite hers. A flicker of surprise brightens her eyes when I adjust my side of the board to match hers perfectly, signifying my understanding. The corners of her mouth lift into a tight smile.

As the cabin brightens with the day, we slowly start our first simulation. Occasionally I move my piece in a way that is against the rules and Leelee has to correct me. But I quickly find myself locked in a battle of wits with my human caretaker.

It doesn't take long before Leelee is able to defeat my keeng, but her pleased grin and the light in her pretty eyes tell me that she's impressed with my play.

We quickly reset the board. I recalibrate myself, shrugging my shoulders and preparing myself for battle. Going over my strategy in my mind.

I sit back in my chair, watching Leelee make her first move. Will she try the same moves as the previous game or will she change her strategy? A few moves in, I see that she is being more aggressive, matching my energy. A shift happens, then. I look at her, her calm demeanor at odds with her sharp mind.

There is something oddly soothing about this game. Under the faint glow of the morning light, I watch Leelee's expression shift from surprise to narrow-eyed focus. The strangest sensation settles under my sternum, and I wonder if the egz Leelee fed me are giving me indigestion.

As we play bout after bout of ches, Leelee continues to surprise me. It's strange and unexpected to see her skillfully manipulating this battle simulator, deftly maneuvering the pieces. She has the mind, the intuition, and the agility of a general. It belies her tender nature, her aura radiating with compassion and care.

Seeing Leelee like this, as a tactician, creates a severe juxtaposition to the image I have formed of her. However, the thought of Leelee preparing for a battle with a weapon in her hand doesn't sit right. It feels wrong to associate her with conflict and violence when all she embodies is healing and nurture.

Yet, here she is, conquering the imaginary battlefield with military-like precision, capturing my pieces one by one. I'm at once disturbed and intrigued by this strange amalgamation of her – the healer with the heart of a warrior. The game is on, the battlefield ready. Ches, she calls it – a simplified simulated battle and she stands victorious. Her prowess in the match elicits a newfound respect, an altered perspective. Leelee, as I see her now, is not just a healer. She's a strategist, a thinker, and a nurturer – a trinity of virtues I didn't think possible in one being. And the question arises – what other mysteries does she still hold?