Graystone National Park- Ranger’s Station
“Kids got here and said the place was completely deserted. No sign of Phillip or his ATV. Nobody’s even signing the damn sign-in sheet anymore. No point. That deep green truck has been sitting here all night too. Belongs to a woman named Laura Mattley. She’s not on the sign-in sheet either.”
Deputy Newsome stops yapping long enough to offer Detective Mackey a sarcastic grin. The detective simply grins back, the skin surrounding his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Great observations there, Dave. I’m impressed. Certainly not anything I couldn’t have figured out my own damn self. Truck’s here, ranger’s not, people milling around my possible crime scene. Do I look like an idiot to you, Dave? And don’t you dare answer that, you fat bastard!”
Deputy Newsome snickers and runs a hand down his graying mustache. Tugging on his waistband, he purposely draws playful attention to the gun on his hip.
“You better be glad I like you, James. Not everyone can get away with calling me fat.”
James Mackey throws his head back with laughter and claps loudly.
“Ain’t that the truth? Look…Seriously. I need you to clear all of these people out of here. They’re trampling all over my crime scene. Probably stealing evidence, stomping on tire tracks, dropping cigarette butts, and pissing all over the place. Take any relevant statements and let them go. The rest can see me down at the station, if they want. I’ll give you a few of my cards. Pass ‘em out like candy. I don’t care. Just get these people gone…Yesterday.”
“Yessir!” Deputy Newsome says with a sarcastic salute.
The pudgy deputy waves his hands in the air and moves off toward the throng of civilians milling around the ranger station. Detective James Mackey turns to peer into the woods several meters away—a worried expression altering his rugged face.
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Scorvo drops his cloak and presses a button on his wrist device. A small spacefaring vessel materializes barely five feet in front of Lex. She emits a tiny gasp and takes a step back. Only to step forward again. She traces a finger over the intricate designs covering the ship’s surface.
“Oh…Wow. It’s so elaborate. Like the carvings our expedition team found in the pyramid. What do all of these symbols mean? Is it your language?”
“Yes. The history of our clan is etched upon the surface of this ship. Upon nearly every vessel. They tell the story of battles won, every planet seeded, every species conquered, every warrior and elder who has ever lived. With the exception of those born after the vessel was constructed. It is an old ship. Neither my name, nor Scar’s, is upon it. Yet. That may change.”
“Shame,” Lex says, glancing over one shoulder. “If anyone’s name deserves to be here…It’s Scar’s. If you ask me.”
Scorvo’s mandibles draw tightly shut, and his eyes narrow. He inputs a sequence into his wrist interface and a door opens on the side of the small ship. He motions for Lex to enter first.
“We must hurry. It is risky to attempt flight while there is still daylight. Nightfall would have been better. When there is no risk of the sun’s rays making it visible to the naked ooman eye.”
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“Wait! All those UFO stories about light refracting off of weather balloons and other anomalies? It could have been one of you?”
“Possibly. Others of my kind has been here many times since the events at the chuf’trhat. The thing you oomans call a pyramid. We are usually pretty good at covering our tracks.”
Lex bites down on her lower lip and enters the alien ship. Frustration washes away as she takes in all there is to see. The interior of the vessel is even more elaborately etched and decorated than the exterior.
“Oh wow!” Lex gushes.
Scorvo steps behind Lex, inputting a command for the door to shut. Darkness briefly envelops the two beings as the daylight disappears. Lex whirls in a panic. Scorvo grips her shoulders with his large hands just as the ship’s lights activate. Lex stares up into the warrior’s comforting face and takes a step back. Scorvo releases her shoulders.
“I did not rest while we were in the cave. I think now would be a good time. I will activate the shield and set our course. You should rest as well. You have been through much, and traveled far. Your sleep was full of nightmares.”
“Okay,” Lex says. “But afterward, I want a full tour. It’s not every day that I get to ride on a spaceship.”
Scorvo nods agreement, his eyelids lowering in a slow blink.
“And you will have it. I will show you to where you may rest.”
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When they arrive at the sleeping quarters, Lex glances around in utter confusion.
“Scorvo? There is only one bed. Granted, it’s a very large bed. But, where are you going to sleep?”
Lex spins to look at Scorvo, a knowing expression on her face.
“On a ship this size…More than one bed is unnecessary. Any others aboard would be asleep within the cryogenic pods. We have no need for cryogenic pods. Our journey will be quite brief.”
“And so your life will be if you try anything,” Lex threatens with a wagging finger.
Scorvo’s brow creases, mandibles flaring open in surprise. After what amounts to several seconds of complete silence, the hunter's round amber eyes narrow and he shakes his head. A wry laugh escapes his throat.
“I would not think to harm the vil’par of my f’tyhu,” Scorvo says. “I will not come into you unless you ask it of me.”
“Oh my god!” Lex exclaims, covering her face with both hands. “Are you always this blunt?”
“I believe the truth should never be subtle,” Scorvo counters. “I mean what I say.”
“I really believe you do,” Lex says.
Going to the enormous bed, Lex hesitates before sitting on the edge. She draws her legs up and lowers her body to the firm bedding. Scorvo walks to the opposite side of the bed and does the same. They both remain still for several uncomfortable moments, staring up at the ship’s ceiling. It is Lex who finally turns over on her side, facing away from Scorvo. Scorvo angles his head to peer at her, before turning in the same direction. His warm breath stirs her hair and Lex closes both eyes, inhaling deeply.
“How does one get a name like Scar?” Lex says. She turns on the bed, in order to face Scorvo. The warrior’s eyes soften and he averts his gaze.
“There is a story told…Of the time when both Scar and I were small childlings—sharing the space in our mother’s womb. You would not have noticed it…Hidden under his armor…But there is a scar upon my brother’s left shoulder. While we were in my mother’s womb…It is said we often fought for a comfortable place. When my f’tyhu and I were born, the scar was still new. It bore a resemblance to the mark of our clan. It was viewed as a sign…That my f’tyhu and I were destined to bring glory to the clan. I gave him his first mark. For that, I was given the name Scorvo. Together, Scar and I form a cha’l…A bonded pair. Alone…I am simply Scorvo.”
“You’re a lot more than that, Scorvo. You’re every bit the warrior Scar was…Is. You should give yourself more credit.”
“Then, why do you not feel the n’fiis for me? As you do for my brother? You have not laid eyes on my f’tyhu for many years. Yet, the n’fiis still burns brightly inside of you. I am here. Yet, you feel nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. It’s just not the same... Something. I can’t explain it. I won’t explain it. If you cannot understand? Then, it is not my place to tell you.”
Scorvo blinks rapidly. His own words coming back to him like a slap in the face. It serves to wake the warrior from his solemn brooding. He is even more surprised when Lex slips her arms around his waist and nestles close. She allows her eyes to flutter closed, warm exhalations tickling the partially exposed flesh of Scorvo’s chest.
“I’m sorry I cannot be your vil’par, Scorvo. It just wouldn’t be right.”
The only sound in the enormous room is the deep sigh which escapes Scorvo’s mouth.