Adam kept his blaster trained on her, arms extended, fingers tight around the grip. The unknown woman, frozen in the flickering halo of light filtering through two shattered bulkheads, immediately raised her hands.

  “Don’t shoot! Please!” she cried, her voice trembling, raw with fear and emotion.

  He didn’t flinch. His gaze locked onto hers, icy, eyes narrowed with tension.

  “Step back. Now. Away from the console.”

  He punctuated his words with a sharp motion of the blaster, even though he knew it was out of charge. She hesitated, then slowly took a step back, never taking her eyes off him.

  Adam tracked her every movement, his heart pounding. She stood less than a meter from an old bridge control console, long since rendered useless by the crash. But the way she had been inspecting it—as if searching for something important—had not escaped his notice.

  “You’re going to tell me what you were doing here. Right now. What were you looking for in that console?” he snapped, his tone hard, cold as steel.

  The stranger slowly lowered her hands, careful not to make any sudden movements. Her dark eyes flicked toward the console, then back to him.

  “I… I’m your only chance of leaving this world,” she said, her voice steadier now, clearly trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.

  Adam faltered for a split second at the unexpected statement. His arm relaxed slightly—then he caught himself and brought the blaster back up.

  “That’s not an answer. The console!” he shouted, impatience creeping into his voice. “What were you looking for?”

  “Data… a distress beacon,” she admitted, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and sincerity. “I needed to be sure you weren’t part of the Consortium.”

  A tense silence followed.

  “And if I were?” Adam replied, his voice lower now, more threatening.

  “Then… then it would’ve been you or me,” she murmured, her gaze shifting away. “But you… you don’t look like one of them. Not with that look in your eyes. Am I wrong?”

  Adam tightened his grip on the weapon.

  “I’m the one asking questions. Understood?”

  She nodded quickly, submitting to the authority in his voice.

  “Why? Why this paranoia about the Consortium?”

  “Because they’re hunting me. They have been for a long time. I didn’t have a choice… I had to know if I was in danger.”

  “And why should I believe you?” he shot back sharply, blaster still raised, his eyes dissecting every word she spoke.

  Another silence settled in. Outside, water continued to drip. The fire farther away cast flickering shadows along the ship’s walls, as if it too were listening.

  “Because I’m part of a group that opposes the Consortium,” she said at last, her voice calmer now, eyes lowering slightly.

  “A rebel, then?” Adam said warily.

  “Not exactly. Let’s say… an alternative. A different vision of how things should be.”

  Despite himself, Adam slowly lowered his blaster, though he didn’t holster it. He stayed alert, but curiosity was beginning to edge out suspicion. He studied her more closely now, searching for a tell, a flaw, a lie in her behavior.

  She stood barely over five feet tall, slender but agile. Long black hair, slightly wavy, framed a face that was both worn and luminous. Large brown eyes—bright, yet marked by fatigue and a stubborn spark of hope. A slightly upturned nose, delicate features, sun-kissed skin dotted with faint freckles. A strange, understated beauty, almost timeless.

  But Adam didn’t let himself be distracted.

  He drew a deep breath, tightened his fingers around the metal bar he still held in his other hand, and returned fully to his guard.

  “I’m listening,” he said at last, his gaze hard. “But choose your words carefully. And explain how you’re my only chance.”

  “I have a ship. You don’t. Yours is a wreck.” Her voice softened as she slowly lowered her arms. The tension eased, replaced by a clearer sense of reason.

  “But wait…” she added, eyes narrowing slightly. “How is this even possible?”

  “What?” Adam asked, frowning.

  “Surviving.” She gestured vaguely at the ruined walls of the ship. “With a crash like that, given the state of the wreck, the extent of the damage… it’s a miracle you’re even standing. And without a single injury?”

  Her gaze sharpened—less fearful now, more intrigued.

  Adam stiffened slightly, caught off guard. He looked away for a moment, as if searching for an answer.

  “Survival… probably luck,” he replied vaguely. “As for injuries… honestly, I have no idea.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  A heavy silence stretched between them. She kept staring at him, as though she sensed he was hiding something. And maybe he was.

  “Then why save me?” he asked at last. “I just threatened to kill you.”

  “I don’t really have a choice,” she replied with a bitter smile. “I might have a ship, yes—but alone, it’s useless. We’re both stuck here. Might as well avoid wasting energy threatening each other.”

  “Fair point,” Adam admitted, glancing around the remains of the bridge. “This ship’s been dead for a while now.”

  “Then why stay?” she asked, surprised. “There’s nothing here—not even enough to survive long.”

  “I can’t leave without him.”

  “Him?”

  “My friend. We were separated during the crash. I was in the other section of the ship… the one that ended up on the other side of the hill.”

  She raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

  “Listen… I don’t want to be cruel, but given the state of the ship, he’s probably dead.”

  “No,” Adam said without hesitation. “I can feel it. And more importantly, I have proof.”

  “What proof?”

  “His body wasn’t there,” Adam replied firmly. “He should’ve been strapped into the bridge seat, like I was. But it was empty.”

  He gestured toward the direction beyond the hill.

  “I was in the other half of the wreck, on the far side. I crossed the entire forest to reach this section, hoping I’d find him here…”

  He paused, his expression darkening.

  “But when I arrived—nothing. The seat was empty. No body. No signs of a struggle. He woke up, I’m sure of it. He probably went looking for me, thinking I was in this part of the ship.”

  The woman stood frozen, stunned. In all the time she had wandered this hostile world, she had never imagined a living being could survive such hell. She had seen the ship tear itself apart in the sky like a shattered shell before crashing with unimaginable violence. The impact had echoed through the mountains like the roar of an enraged world. And yet—this man stood before her. Alive. Unharmed. Not only had he survived the crash, he had crossed the forest… the forest she herself had always avoided. A territory haunted by a ferocious creature, lurking in the shadows, relentlessly hunting. It defied logic. The very idea that he had crossed that wilderness alone and lived was almost unreal. Inconceivable. And yet, there he was—blaster in hand, driven by a will that demanded respect.

  “You crossed the forest? And the hill?” she repeated, incredulous.

  “Yes… It wasn’t exactly a pleasant walk,” Adam replied calmly. “Between the constant rain, the lack of landmarks… and that Alien.”

  “The Alien… you saw it?” she exclaimed, her voice shaking with shock and disbelief. “Escaping it is a miracle! It’s incredibly fast… and brutally violent.”

  “I got lucky. And my blaster did the rest,” Adam replied, deliberately glossing over the details of the encounter—details he preferred to keep to himself.

  “That’s a lot of luck…” she muttered, frowning.

  “Maybe I’ve got a lucky star. Or maybe this world just hasn’t decided to finish me off yet. Either way, we’re safe now. It won’t hunt us anymore.”

  “Wait—what?” she asked immediately, eyes wide, a flash of surprise—perhaps alarm—in her gaze. “What do you mean, ‘it won’t hunt us anymore’?”

  “I was out of food,” Adam explained vaguely. “And since it was injured, it was more vulnerable… so I hunted it instead.”

  She remained motionless, deeply unsettled. Something didn’t add up. She couldn’t understand how a simple human had survived such a violent crash—let alone defeated such a deadly creature—without a single scratch. Adam’s calm only made it worse. There was something about him… something abnormal. Not threatening. Just… inexplicably strange. An unease settled over her, one she couldn’t quite explain.

  “Either way, I need to find my friend,” Adam continued, steering the conversation back. “The longer I wait, the lower his chances of being alive. He probably headed toward the other part of the ship—it would’ve been the logical choice…”

  He spoke as he thought, eyes fixed on some invisible point ahead.

  “Getting out of here is… complicated,” she replied, shaking her head slightly. “I’ve been stuck here for about a month now, and it hasn’t stopped raining once. Not even for a moment.”

  “A whole month of nonstop rain?” Adam asked, eyebrows knitting together.

  “Yes. Constantly. Day and night.”

  “Depressing,” he muttered with a half-ironic smile. “Charming place. Well, at least we won’t die of thirst, right?”

  He tried a bit of humor to lighten the mood. A fleeting smile crossed her lips, but her eyes remained serious.

  “It’s possible he went toward the remains of the hull,” she said, nodding. “And with all this rain, he might’ve taken shelter in a cave. There are several in the mountains.”

  “That’s plausible… let’s just hope he went the right way,” Adam replied with a sigh. “Either way, with night falling, we can’t start searching now. We should stay here.”

  “Yes. Night is dangerous,” she agreed. “It wakes creatures you never see during the day.”

  A brief silence followed, then Adam spoke again.

  “By the way… I’m Adam. Adam Tenerys.”

  She looked up at him, a gentle smile softening her tired features.

  “Nice to meet you, Adam. Seyra D’Vara. And we can drop the formalities—no need for that in a place like this.”

  “Alright, Seyra,” he said with a small smile.

  They walked back toward the fire, whose flames still danced weakly, casting shifting shadows across the twisted hull of the ship. Sitting beside each other, they enjoyed for a moment the rare comfort offered by its fading warmth.

  “I still don’t understand… how did you manage to kill that thing?” she asked softly, her voice a mix of curiosity and pain. “When I arrived here… I wasn’t alone.”

  Her voice faltered. Adam slowly turned his head toward her but said nothing, already sensing what was coming.

  “I was with my… my brother,” she continued after a brief pause, her throat tight. “An excellent hunter. Trained. Experienced. We wandered too far without realizing it. That thing’s territory. He stepped in front of me, protected me… and died right in front of my eyes.”

  Her eyes glistened now, silent tears carving paths down her dirt- and rain-streaked cheeks. Adam remained still, the firelight reflecting in his fixed gaze.

  “And you… you’re here. Alive. Unharmed. How did you do it, Adam? How did you succeed where he failed?”

  Adam stared at the dancing flames for a long moment, golden reflections playing across his tense features. He stayed silent, then finally spoke in a calm voice, tinged with sincere sorrow and deep respect.

  “I’m truly sorry, Seyra… for your brother. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. It’s a pain that never really leaves you.”

  He paused, eyes still fixed on the fire, as if seeing echoes of his own losses within it.

  “As for the creature… like I said, I mostly got lucky. A bit of instinct, an old blaster, and a lot of fear. That’s all.”

  “Thank you…” she whispered.

  She didn’t press him further. She understood he wouldn’t say more—not tonight. But one question lingered in her mind: why was he refusing to talk about it? Was it modesty… or was he hiding something else?

  “We should sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be long—and probably not easy,” she said, slowly standing.

  “You’re right. Let’s go,” Adam replied, nodding.

  They moved away from the fire, leaving behind the last glowing embers crackling in the silence of the night. Outside, the forest remained crouched in shadow.