Robyn Michaels

Kx’til had lived for three hundred and seventy-two cycles, long enough to see empires rise and fade like quantum fluctuations in the void. His crystalline exoskeleton had grown thick with age, giving him the appearance of a walking geode. The other Kryloxians called him obsolete—a relic who still maintained a physical form when most of their species had transitioned to pure energy states.

But being obsolete had its advantages. Like being the only one who could hear the human child crying in Docking Bay 7.

He found her wedged between cargo containers, her environmental suit scratched but intact. She couldn’t have been more than eight standard years old, with dark skin and hair tied in what humans called “braids.” Her helmet’s displays showed green across all readings, but her emotional state was another matter entirely.

“You are safe now, small one,” he said, his crystalline vocal matrices adjusting to produce human-compatible sounds. “I am Kx’til, bay supervisor.”

The girl’s sobs quieted to hiccups. “I’m Sofia. I got lost. My mom’s ship… there were pirates…”

Kx’til’s crystals dimmed in sympathy. Pirates were increasingly common in this sector, drawn by rumors of Inertium deposits. “When did this happen?”

“Two days ago. Mom put me in the escape pod, but its navigation was damaged. I’ve been hiding…” She hugged her knees tighter. “The pirates said they’d be watching all the emergency channels.”

Kx’til’s sensory crystals pulsed as he assessed the situation. The child needed help, but she was right to be cautious. Pirates often monitored distress frequencies, waiting to catch rescue vessels or returning survivors. His station’s bureaucratic protocols required him to report all unaccompanied minors to the Conglomerate authorities—which meant forms, investigations, and automated messages broadcast on all standard channels.

Sofia looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Please don’t report me. They’ll find me.”

Kx’til felt his obsolete heart crack a little. In all his cycles, he’d never understood how humans could pack so much emotion into such small forms. He made a decision that would probably cost him his job.

“I know a place you can rest,” he said. “And perhaps together we can find a way to locate your mother that does not involve official channels.”

He led her through maintenance corridors to his private quarters—a crystalline chamber that mimicked the caves of his homeworld. Sofia’s eyes widened at the sight of the luminescent growths covering the walls.

“It’s like a rainbow geode,” she whispered.

“Indeed. Very few appreciate the aesthetic anymore.” He gestured to a human-compatible rest pod in the corner. “I keep it for trading partners who visit. You will be safe here.”

As Sofia settled into the pod, Kx’til accessed his private communications array—another “obsolete” technology that worked independently of the station’s quantum networks. He had contacts from his centuries of work, other beings who preferred the old ways. Perhaps one of them had heard something about a recent pirate attack.

Hours passed. Sofia slept fitfully while Kx’til sent encrypted queries through channels that hadn’t been used in decades. His crystalline form processed the data slowly compared to his energy-state brethren, but methodically, matching manifest fragments and tracking debris patterns.

He was so focused on his search that he almost missed Sofia’s question when she awoke.

“Why are you helping me?”

Kx’til’s crystals chimed softly as he considered. “Long ago, when I was barely a century old, humans helped my people survive a quantum cascade failure that nearly destroyed our civilization. They had no obligation to assist, had nothing to gain. They simply saw beings in need and offered aid.” He turned to face her. “They taught us that compassion requires no profit motive.”

Sofia nodded solemnly. “Mom says helping people is its own reward. She’s a xenobiologist. She studies different species to help them survive on new worlds.” Her voice caught. “The pirates attacked because she wouldn’t sell them her research on adapting Harshworld species.”

Before Kx’til could respond, his communications array chimed. One of his contacts, a Void Nomad who specialized in “recovering” lost ships, had spotted debris matching Sofia’s description. And something else—a encrypted signal hidden in the gap between standard frequencies.

“Your mother,” Kx’til said, analyzing the data, “is very clever. She left a message that only someone with obsolete equipment could find.” His crystals brightened. “She’s alive, hiding in an asteroid field six light-hours from here. The pirates are blocking conventional rescue attempts, but…”

Sofia sat up straighter. “But what?”

“But they are watching for modern ships, modern signals. They would never expect…” Kx’til’s crystalline form sparkled with amusement. “They would never expect an obsolete maintenance tug piloted by an even more obsolete Kryloxian.”

“Can we go get her? Please?”

Kx’til studied the small human child, seeing in her the same determination that had driven her ancestors to save his people so long ago. “It will be dangerous. The tug has minimal shielding, and my reflexes are not what they once were.”

Sofia grinned, an expression that somehow combined fear and hope in equal measure. “Mom says I’m a natural pilot. I’ve been practicing in simulators since I was five. Maybe we could help each other?”

Kx’til felt his ancient crystals resonate with something he hadn’t experienced in centuries: adventure. “I believe, small one, that we just might.”

Two hours later, a maintenance tug that should have been recycled a century ago slipped away from the station, its transponder broadcasting routine repair codes. Inside, an obsolete Kryloxian and a young human girl plotted a rescue course through pirate-infested space, each teaching the other what they knew—Sofia showing Kx’til how to boost the tug’s engine efficiency, Kx’til teaching her how to hide in the electromagnetic shadows of asteroid fields.

They found Sofia’s mother where her coded message had promised, her research ship powered down in a mineral-rich asteroid’s shadow. The pirates never saw them coming—they were too busy watching for modern rescue ships to notice an ancient maintenance tug performing what appeared to be routine asteroid maintenance.

The reunion brought moisture to Sofia’s eyes, a human reaction that Kx’til still found fascinating after all these centuries. As they made their way back to the station, Sofia’s mother examining her daughter for injuries while simultaneously offering Kx’til her heartfelt thanks, he reflected on the strange paths that life could take.

Sometimes the universe’s greatest strengths came in unexpected packages—a child’s courage, an old being’s wisdom, an obsolete ship’s ability to pass unnoticed. And sometimes the most valuable things, like compassion and friendship, never really went out of date at all.

His crystalline form might have been obsolete, but today it had been exactly what was needed. Rather like humans themselves, he mused—a species that many considered primitive for their continued reliance on physical forms and emotional bonds, yet possessed of qualities that somehow never grew old.

Sofia hugged him before they parted, her small arms unable to reach even halfway around his crystalline bulk. “Thank you for helping us,” she said. “Even when the rules said you shouldn’t.”

Kx’til’s crystals chimed with joy. “My dear, the best things in life rarely follow proper protocols.”