Chapter XVIII

“Seems like it wasn’t severe,” said someone, exhausted. “Just leave him plugged and we’ll keep an eye on him for the next daytime cycle to see if he presents complications. If not, we’ll call to have him discharged and transferred to the security complex.”

“Yes madam,” said another voice. A sigh. Steps.

“That won’t be necessary,” intervened a familiar voice. “I’ll take it from here. Send an assistant to check on him every so often. I’ll post guard from this point forward until he’s discharged,” declared with confidence the voice.

Squeeeak. A door opened. Click. Tack, tack, tack, tack. Heels clicking? Creak.

And there was silence.

. . .

. . .

. . .

“Has he woken up or moved since you’ve been here?” a voice broke my slumber.

“No, nothing yet,” answered the familiar one, dryly.

“Thanks, I’ll come back in a while then,” could be heard as the clicking of heels left the room, closing the door behind.

Silence. I felt myself losing consciousness again.

. . .

. . .

. . .

“… and so we really shouldn’t keep them locked up. There won’t be any progress or adaptation and, if anything, tensions are going to rise,” I heard someone arguing outside in a hushed voice.

“I understand, child. But you have to recognize the danger that they will face if we let them run loose,” insisted another voice, a familiar one too. Everything was hazy…

“What about setting up escorts and security teams, so we can have them covered during the whole day cycle?” suggested frantically the first person.

“Did I not do that the second I saw them off Hangar Control? And see what happened. Nobody can be trusted right now…” trailed off the voice, pained to admit that statement.

“I can be trusted. I’ll see to it that they’re secure. I respectfully insist; if we keep them incarcerated we’ll only be fueling a sense of animosity that could be fatal for our plans. Imagine if--” they paused abruptly.

“All too true. Still, how do you expect to manage the--” much too exhausted, I could not keep awake any longer, and I faded again.

. . .

. . .

. . .

It was quiet.

I felt nauseous, as if the ocean rocked back and forth inside my head. I shut my eyes tighter, trying to make the feeling go away, and stayed that way for a few seconds.

“Hey. You alright?” said the same voice I’ve heard repeatedly earlier.

“Hey,” she insisted, and I felt a palm press against my chest.

“I feel dizzy,” I responded, trying to keep myself from emptying my stomach all too soon.

“It’s natural, I guess,” she answered back simply. “No need to get up. Just rest and recover for a bit.”

“Lualeen?” I fired in the dark, still too hazy to make out anything.

“—oh. So you know my name?” she sounded surprised. Her palm was still over my chest. I could feel the weight of it, and I welcomed it. I focused entirely on that feeling, trying to keep myself together.

“Yeah. I heard it back on Earth and it stuck. It really suits you,” I attempted to loosen up, breathing deeply.

She chuckled. “Does it? I’ve never been told that before.”

I struggled to open my eyes, only to find myself suddenly covering them with my forearm. The lights scorched my pupils. I could feel the back of my retina throbbing.

“Agh… Would you mind turning off the light? It hurts,” I pleaded sincerely.

Click.

I opened my eyes and found the room dim and cool. I took a deep breath, taking a moment to ease down. The shapes were still impossible to make out, but it was a small room. The dimness of the place shaded it in a blue hue with shadows rising here and there, making vague figures in front of my eyes. I guess this was their medical section. Turning my head, I noticed that, to my right, there were… blinds. Yeah. Blinds pulled down that covered the full wall. I guessed there were windows behind. I looked at all the strange devices hanging overhead and resting beside my bed curiously, attempting to make a shape. On my left, there was an opaque glass, through which the figures looked even blurrier, giving a sense of further privacy in the room. In the hazy darkness, the quarters happened to remind me of a detective’s office, strangely enough. I inspected further the items on the far corners of the room with little luck and followed the edges down across until I spotted her shape, sitting on my left, concealed by the shadows at one of the ends of the casement. I could barely make out her shape, but her brief movements helped me spot her position.

“Better?” she finally asked.

“Yeah. Somewhat. Thank you for being patient,” I shifted in the bed, sitting up.

Distant noises reached us, too remote to make out. Conversations, doors being opened, articles being shifted and rearranged. We just listened silently, appreciating the quiet and serenity for a moment. As my eyesight gradually sharpened, I realized I could still hardly discern her. To each other, we were only shapes dimly marked with stray rays of light that painted us, and all around us, in a peaceful blue. I became aware of her breath. Unlike my own to my ears, hers blew subtly, whooshing pleasantly as it, unobstructed, gently swished into a high and elfin gust. I contemplated intently, delighted by the simple sound of her breath. Hazed and mesmerized, we listened in a naïve splendor to each other’s respiration, with a singular feeling of awe comparable to that of a man who rediscovers the world from the truth within. I wouldn’t be able to tell you how long we stayed like this. Magic. It was a moment of absolute magic.

I leaned back down, the bed creaking underneath as I got comfortable. She exhaled wistfully. Turning over, I laid on my side, observing her shape in the shadows. I found it strange that she’d remain so silent for this long. Could she truly be enjoying this moment as much as I was?

“Thank you,” I muttered ever so quietly, almost as if too afraid to break the blissful silence.

I heard her breath waver for a moment. “What do you mean?” her melodic whisper filled the room with color.

“For this,” was all that could be said.

She didn’t respond.

Silence again. But this time if felt different. I believed she had become aware of it too.

“Tell me,” she began, pausing for a moment. “You know mine, but I don’t know yours. You have a name?” she prodded tentatively.

“Damien. Mine’s Damien,” grinning in the shadows, I answered. There was an air of complicity that aided us both in this unique exchange.

Two races, separated by who knows how many light years. That came together at this moment. Providence or fortune had me stage this moment, and I could not feel more obliged and thankful.

“Damien?” I heard her pronounce my name for the very first time. She pronounced with such an enthralling grace and delicacy that it felt as if it was rightfully spoken for the very first time.

“That’s right,” I assented sympathetically. She chuckled low.

“Do you have a last name?” tagging along, I continued the exchange.

“A last name? Lualeen is first and only name,” she replied, puzzled by my question.

A different approach then. “A family name or title, perhaps?”

“Sorivantis Family. Lualeen Sorivantis. Although I’m the last of my ancestry,” quietly, she confided me with no distrust. “What’s your… last name?” Now she was curious, naturally.

“Raven.”

“Damien Raven.” A shiver ran down my spine as she spoke my name, riveting me to the bed. “Damien Raven,” she murmured again, fascinated.

“Lualeen Sorivantis,” I followed behind, enchanted with the flowing elegance of her name. I heard her shift. We childishly cherished the moment together, whispering each other’s name for a few instants. It seemed as if all our worries, all our fears, all our tensions… vanished for a moment. Gone. Bliss. Absolute bliss.

“It’s… it is a pleasure to meet you, Lualeen Sorivantis,” spoken softly, my words were genuine, they came from deep within.

“I’m glad to meet you, Damien Raven,” she returned, a content eagerness in her statement. She did sound, in fact, glad.

As if by instinct, I reached forward, tracing the cool folds of the silken blanket. And unexpectedly, I found something smooth. Smoother than the blankets, even. It felt lush and balmy. And warm.

Her hand.

She didn’t flinch. Or move.

I ran my fingers over hers, delicately, oh so delicately, with a gentleness and a patience that I did not know I had. This instant… this one instant: it was magnificent. I was frightened I would shatter it were I to stroke her perhaps a bit too roughly or even brush her a tad too quickly. My fingers trembled; I paused. I held my breath.

She didn’t move.

I heaved a sigh as furtively as I could, but ended up coughing once. My open palm hovered over the back of her hand for an instant before I finally mustered up the courage to lower it. The richness and smoothness of her skin continued to catch me off guard every time. As I continued to explore further ever so delicately, it became clear that she was cool, yet not chilly, to the touch at first, but noticeable warmer between her knuckles and all throughout her palm. Feeling courageous, I ventured to stroke her wrist. Her skin held the same quality of softness, if not far greater, spread and shaped by the gentle protrusions of her bones beneath, making the trek along her skin an unequalled expedition to the senses.

Lost for a moment, I was abruptly shaken as she turned her hand, leaving her palm exposed, but this time I did not stop. Trailing up again, my index and middle reached the epicenter of her palm, running over all the natural creases along the way. An icy droplet glided down my chest as I anxiously resumed this pursuit. Parting a couple of inches away, I held my hand over hers and, one by one, I placed my fingertips against hers, matching finger by finger in an improvised, silent ritual. At length, I drew a long breath, holding it in. I craved to press my hand down and greet her palm in full, but I found it much too bold and far too imprudent to attempt. But as if to contradict with my thoughts, I felt her move beneath me. Her fingers curled up, tracing with her fingertips through the length of my own until they reached the boundaries of my palm. And then… and then! She shifted sideways ever so casually until she found the breach between my fingers, and pressed her own through steadily until, before I even had a chance to understand what was happening, we were locked together, hand in hand; her fingers intertwined with mine, hooked to the back of my hand… and mine, well… I made sure to return the gesture, greeting her warmth kindly by fastening my own against the back of hers.

We held hands for yet another delightful eternity.

Tack, tack, tack, tack, tack… Heels crossing the hallway outside.

“Huh? Why is it so dark in here?” Creak. The door opened. Click. The lights flared on.

“Aghh!!” recoiling both of my arms in pain, I covered my eyes.

“Fool! Shut the lights!” Lualeen snapped sharply.

“Aaahh…! Yes, right away!” Click.

I sighed in relief. There was a moment of awkwardness that dragged almost indefinitely.

“Uhm… Should I… come back later?” the girl at the door inquired, embarrassed.

“Why should you? Come in, see to your duties,” she stressed directly, realizing only afterwards the strange situation into which the poor medical auxiliary had just walked.

“But… O—okay,” the lady stuttered as she paced forward in the darkness and tumbled her way to the bed. There was yet another uncomfortable pause.

“What is it?” Lualeen asked, uneasy.

“Well… I can’t see anything. I can’t… I can’t work like this,” distressed, the poor girl wailed pitiably as she tried to figure what to do with herself.

“Ah, yes.” Lualeen’s shape turned my way. “Cover your eyes, Damien.” The auxiliary gasped inaudibly as she heard me addressed in a first name basis. It was evident how relating, even remotely, to guests as contemptable as us could be seen as disreputable by the rest of the ship’s company.

I shielded my eyes with my palms and puffed up unenthusiastically.

Click .

“Pardon me… I’m coming in…” she muttered uneasy as she paced towards the bed, looking back and forth, examining us. She heaved for a moment. In retrospective, I guess she likely expected to find a whole different scene. I don’t blame her. She silently and nimbly took note of my vitals, performed the basic check-ups and queried me further about my symptoms, taking close details of it all in a tablet that hovered beside her. Under Lualeen’s vigilance and my own curiosity, the auxiliary replenished the necessary medical supplies in the room and removed what I could only believe were the biohazardous materials. I stole short glances in between my fingers to study her every move. At length, the auxiliary stopped, briefly fumbling in place before performing the military salute with the pound on the chest, to Lualeen. “My work here is done, Co—Commander. I’m going to take my… my leave now, yes,” she excused herself, slipping on her words until she felt she had said enough and turned around to make a hasty exit before making an even bigger mess.

Click. The lights died again.

Lualeen’s shoulders dropped for a second as she turned around to look at me, resting by the light switch. “I better get going too before baseless rumors start spreading. That would be the last thing we need at a time like this…,” she reflected briefly. “I’ll be dropping by periodically to check on you.” I listened intently as she spoke with no trace of that condescending tone I had been hearing around as of late, and I couldn’t help but smile.

In the darkness, she smiled back.

“Don’t get used to me having to cover your back this frequently, rookie. We’ve got a long way ahead for your little group. And particularly, for you,” she pointed at me, swaying her index up and down in my direction. Chuckling, she covered her lips.

“Very well. I’ll try to get some rest in the meantime,” I nodded modestly, a gesture lost in the dimness of the quarters.

She nodded briefly, her face hardly even lit by the rays from the far end of the hallway, and headed for the door. I followed her shape, distorted by the warped pattern upon casement, until she was gone from view. With little else to do, I returned to the strangely-too-soft safety of the blankets, and pondered. This whole ordeal, it ended almost as if nothing had happened. Or… had it? Had it really happened? ‘I hit my head pretty hard…,’ I considered as I ran my fingers over the blanket; its texture could be easily mistaken for anything just as soft in this darkness, with how supple it was to the touch. Had those magical seconds really been only a miserable figment of my imagination? ‘As smooth as… skin. As her skin…’ I nodded, defeated. I came to the inexorable conclusion that it had simply never happened. I had to have dreamed that whole encounter. A woman of her standing would never risk her status and position just for a trifle of a moment with… But it had to be left at that for now. Frustrated, I lied back down and closed my eyes, trying to get some more sleep in me.