by Ann Aguirre
“Not visual stealth then but a program that fools those scanning for us?” she guessed.
“Exactly. You’re clever, but that goes without saying, considering you’ve achieved what nobody else has.”
He must be talking about perfecting the prototype that permitted Helix to live in a biosynthetic form. A flush of pleasure flowed through her, assuaging some of the pain she felt about the growing distance between Helix and herself. Her head tendrils fluttered just a bit, as the quickest way to get on Qalu’s good side was to praise her work.
“I appreciate your kind words,” she said.
“Kind, what? I’m just being honest. When we get a break, I’d love to sit down with you and hear some of how you managed it.”
On Tiralan, she certainly would have refused such a request due to the risk of someone trying to copy and appropriate her research. But in the resistance, such behavior seemed unlikely. She wasn’t consorting with scientists any longer, but those who dedicated their lives to liberating AIs and bots.
“I’m willing to converse on that topic,” she said.
And Bojak flashed his teeth in a rather alarming display. “I’ll look forward to that. For now, I need to check our fuel reserves and do a little tweaking to make sure we don’t end up adrift with nothing left to burn.”
“Is that a risk?” she asked, faintly alarmed.
Bojak hesitated. “We had to burn a fair amount to shake that tail. Hopefully everything will work out, and if the numbers don’t look good, we’ll find a closer port than Altarion. It just…well, never mind. There’s no point in—” Here, the translator didn’t seem to know what Bojak was trying to say, so it simply stopped, and the human let out a noisy breath. “I’ll talk to you later, Qalu.”
“Understood.”
Aevi leapt from her grasp and Bojak caught her easily, letting the Pherzul perch near his head, as she preferred. To her surprise, Aevi nuzzled him, something she rarely did with strangers. Qalu supposed she should take it to mean they were in good company; she’d be even more terrified if the little one went around hissing at the whole crew.
“Can I come with you? I want to see the fuel cells. I can help. I’m very clever.”
“Of course you can come. And you’re smarter than me, guarantee you that. Nita helps me with all the higher math.” Bojak reached out and rubbed Aevi’s head. And she let him, no biting, not even a nip. The Pherzul wouldn’t waste her venom because she was apparently saving that for the bounty hunter, Toth Krag.
When she turned, the others were all headed off to their various tasks and she found Helix waiting for her silently. His posture and the agitated flurry of his head tendrils made it clear he was upset. She moved toward him, keeping her aspect calm and gentle.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Foolish question. So many things were that he could list them for quite some time, and since she’d set them on this path, she should listen to each complaint.
“That’s what I wish to know. You are…different here. And I don’t like it.” Helix took one step toward her, then another. “I have been candid. I have told you that you are necessary to my existence, but I can feel you withdraw from me, even if you have not yet departed physically. You are preparing me for that eventuality. Why?”
[ 13 ]
Helix waited for Qalu’s reply, however baffling and painful it might be.
She drew in a breath, evidently shocked at his blunt assessment. Perhaps this was not how a Tiralan would handle such matters, but he was done with conforming to expectations that did not match his own ideology. To him, it seemed far more efficient to confront issues directly than to avoid them. If she required an apology, he would proffer it, once they cleared the misunderstanding that caused her to retreat.
“It is for the best,” she said finally.
“In what regard?”
“I can’t be with you forever. Therefore, you should learn to connect with others to avoid loneliness when I return to Tiralan.”
There were so many logical problems with her statements that Helix didn’t know where to begin. “Why can we not remain together indefinitely? If it was your intention for us to part, why not do so more expediently on Tiralan? And why does my connection with you preclude an association with others? Love groups are customary, are they not? Your mothers gave no indication that Tiralan affections were possessive in nature.”
Qalu stared, as if she had no answers for any of these inquiries. Her head tendrils flexed with obvious distress, before she said, “I may have read the situation incorrectly. Since you are not native Tiralan, I feared you would focus on me to the exclusion of all others…that you would seek no further for emotional support. And if I allowed it, that would be—”
“I feel that you’ve taken these measures in some attempt to protect me from myself. You believe that you have power over me because you created the prototype, yes? Because you have taught me many things. But…at what point do you acknowledge me as a sovereign being? You don’t wish to take advantage of me or prey on an inexperienced person. Yet as you deny me intimacy, you also disavow me as one capable of granting consent.”
“I never thought of it like that,” she said softly. “I just…on Tiralan, I was literally the only person you knew. I felt that you should experience other options before deciding whether I’m someone you—”
“But you didn’t give me that opportunity. When others entered the equation, you removed yourself from my calculations. Already, you speak of leaving. You don’t fear harming me but rather, the probability that I may decide that you are not a viable option. Logically speaking, you’ve chosen to protect yourself. You’re not keeping me safe in any regard, as losing your emotional warmth is already an injury. Do you not see me as an equal, Qalu?”
“That’s…” Her hesitation indicated that she was processing his words. “…an accurate appraisal. I wouldn’t have realized it without prompting, but you’re correct. I do see you as someone I need to protect.”
“That may have been true in the beginning,” he allowed, “but the situation has changed. Neither of us is familiar with our current circumstances.”
“True enough, and I apologize. I should trust you to make your own decisions.” Her head tendrils fluttered, giving away her internal conflict.
While Helix lacked a certain intuitive grasp of Tiralan body language, he had studied it extensively enough to understand Qalu better, and right now, her posture revealed that she was intensively ambivalent. “Tell me what’s troubling you.”
“I’m afraid of what I feel for you,” she whispered.
“Clarify.”
“From what I’ve seen of the relationship between my mothers, I shouldn’t feel so proprietary over you. I should be happy at the prospect of you finding others who will cherish you, but that idea makes me feel fearful instead. This is one reason I’ve always chosen to be alone. I’m afraid that my psyche is malformed—that I don’t have the generous nature required to form a healthy love group.”
“Would it not be acceptable for us to be together first? Perhaps those feelings will fade, once we forge a strong bond.”
“What if they don’t?”
“Then you choose solitude out of fear? That is…disappointing. I thought you were an intrepid scientist, yet you refuse data that would allow you to frame an informed hypothesis.”
Qalu made a soft sound in amusement. “You appeal to my scholarly nature to chivy me toward an intimate relationship? There is no arguing how well you understand me.”
Helix took another step. “Has that impetus worked? You’re ready to—”
“It would be precipitous for us to make any decisions while we’re fleeing for our lives. Though you’ve never experienced it before, I’m sure you’re familiar with the adrenal response.”
“Will you at least stop talking about your inevitable departure? And cease avoiding me? I…miss you.” A bold statement, without qualifications or rationalizations.
“A
s do I.” For the first time since they’d come on board, she moved toward him, watching his features to make sure he wanted this.
In answer, Helix closed the distance between them, hoping she would offer comfort in the Tiralan way. She touched his chest and tapped softly in cadence with his heart, soothing his nerves so profoundly that he realized his whole body was rigid, ready to fight at the prospect of losing her. If she went back to Tiralan, so would he, and damn the danger. For long moments, he simply breathed, taking pleasure in her touch. While Qalu might not realize how precious she was to him, he could not fathom welcoming such contact from anyone else. Time might change that preference, but for now, he craved only her, and that was why he minded so little her concern that she might not be able to form a proper love group.
Though Helix looked Tiralan, he was assimilating from a different perspective. He might not be able to bond with anyone else either, but he didn’t carry the same cultural sense of inferiority. As he had limitless data related to the way sentient beings bonded, to his mind, there did not seem to be a correct way; the main requirement seemed to be that the arrangement satisfied all parties, regardless of how others viewed the relationship.
Still, it felt like progress that Qalu was willing to stop running and to keep him company like before. He touched her chest, returning the warmth he felt when she consoled him. She leaned into his forelimb, and his head tendrils quivered in anticipation of more pleasure like they’d shared at the museum.
“Shall we see if we can help with the fuel cell analysis?”
Helix had no desire to perform manual labor after their long trek, but Qalu seemed to think they should offer. With some regret, he broke contact and followed her to the engineering section, where Aevi was assisting Bojak. Or at the least, not actively hindering the human. Quickly he scanned the environment and received instant data flow that overlaid his visual input, identifying the various components. With a thought, he requested more information on fuel efficiency and analyzed a score of records.
“Have you adjusted the shields? We could lower them by a decimal when we’re not in combat or actively avoiding asteroids or debris. That increase in efficiency could be redirected to sustain the fuel cells. If you recalibrate, we’ll definitely be able to reach Altarion.” Helix took the pad from Bojak, who stared at him with large eyes, and swiftly wrote all the numbers scrolling in his head, working out the equations to the tenth decimal point. “See, the math proves it’s—”
“I wasn’t doubting you, not at all. I’ll make the corrections,” Bojak cut in.
Aevi leapt from the human to Helix, perching on his shoulder to do the calculations herself. The little Pherzul talked herself through the higher functions, then she said, “Yes, accurate! We’ll also have some leeway in case there’s trouble.”
“Seen enough of that,” Bojak muttered. “I’m hoping we get a little peace before everything blows up again.”
“Again?” Qalu repeated.
Aevi leapt back to Bojak, digging her claws in with excitement. “Did something explode? What was it? And why? Tell us!”
“I meant it metaphorically because I’m tired of constant problems. Got me?”
“He wishes for some tranquility,” Helix said, pleased to be the first to decipher what appeared to be a rather oblique idiom. The translator did its best, but humans could be…perplexing, and they enjoyed encasing their words in layers of contextual confusion.
“That I do,” Bojak agreed.
“Can we help in any other regard?” Qalu asked.
Bojak shook his head, and Helix recalled that was a negative gesture. He’d seen Beryl Bowman do that, and it took Zylar a while to understand that it was a wordless reply. The human stroked Aevi between the eyes.
“Are you coming with me or staying with them, pretty one?”
The Pherzul rumbled in pleasure over the words of praise. “With you!”
Soon, only Helix and Qalu remained in engineering, silent, apart from the hum of various ship parts. “I wonder what Altarion is like,” he said, opting not to press for more personal topics.
From her soft posture, she appreciated his restraint. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
The remainder of the journey passed without incident. Qalu studied the holo display of Altarion with great interest. From space, it was a blue-green world with small land masses dotted throughout with the largest continent near the southern pole. The composition of the planet was largely iron, some pockets of silicon and magnesium. There were no large settlements here because the planet was irradiated from an ancient war. The ruins of antediluvian cities were visible even from orbit, bumps and divots that must have been incredible spires in their prime.
“We’ll be flying directly into the resistance bunker,” Praxys said.
“There’s no life on the surface?” Qalu asked.
“Only prokaryotic microbes,” Carow answered.
Aevi bounded into the hub in time to hear that unfamiliar word. “What’s prokaryotic?”
“They’re one-celled organisms without a nucleus. Very simple life forms.”
“And they were the only life that survived the wars on Altarion?” Helix asked.
Maglan answered as the ship started the slow burn through the atmosphere. “There’s nothing of interest left on Altarion. Not even the scavvers bother with this planet anymore, and that makes it the perfect location for our base.”
From the viewport, Altarion was beautiful, azure and misty from above with a sky full of lightning, but even Qalu could tell that the green clouds weren’t right, probably bursting with rads. The ship shook as it came in, and she stepped closer to Helix instinctively, even as Aevi jumped into her arms, seeking comfort. Bojak might be the Pherzul’s new favorite, but when she wanted to feel safe, she still came to Qalu.
Helix anchored himself with one forelimb and with the other, he held onto Qalu. She tried not to feel so pleased about his protectiveness, but she couldn’t quell the feeling entirely. I want him to care about me. And now…now maybe it isn’t so wrong. He’s met others and he still wants this. Still wants me.
Most of her instincts still insisted it was too soon. She must be cautious and let him experience more first before pouncing and claiming him like a predator. There ought to be lots of beings, at least comparatively, at the resistance base, so he could acquire more experience. Soon, though, if he still wanted everything, then…maybe—
Yes, definitely. Soon.
Mind made up, she nearly missed the rush. The ship plummeted from the sky and into the water, alarming her when they submerged. “The base is below the sea?”
Immediately, she imagined everything that could go wrong. Walls of water, drowning, pressure seals bursting. Helix seemed to sense her disquiet. He slid his forelimb against her skin, comforting in his own way. She breathed in, out, hoping her terror didn’t show.
I can’t swim.
“It’s the safest place. We found an old facility that escaped much of the surface damage and upgraded it slowly. The early days here on Altarion were…difficult,” Praxys said.
The ship AI added, “Casualties were high during the repair and construction phase. Fatalities ranged from—”
“Nobody wants to know the exact death toll,” Bojak interrupted. “It’ll just make us feel guilty when we can’t do anything about it.”
“Information is always beneficial,” Nita said.
Qalu admitted to some morbid curiosity, but such knowledge probably wouldn’t make her feel any safer, so she stayed quiet as Praxys opened a comm channel and relayed a complex (and likely ever-changing) code so those inside the base knew it was safe to open the hatch. Externally, she couldn’t see much on the sensors, but she had the impression of a metal plate sliding back. The ship dove farther and emerged in a series of locks that drained, massive doors that opened and closed behind them, until at last the ship came to rest in a suboceanic docking bay that was grim and gray, the lights flickering orange as they disembarked.
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“Before you called this a settlement, but it seems more like a hidden base,” Qalu said.
“It’s both,” Carow said. “The settlers who eke out an existence on Altarion are all hiding from something or someone. Otherwise, they wouldn’t choose to live at the bottom of the sea. They’re not all resistance, but most are, and their lives are improved by aid from free AI and droids who don’t use up organic resources. Instead, they require fuel from the mining operation. It’s a fair trade-off.”
“We can refuel the ship here?” Helix asked.
“Indeed. They mine certain rare heavy minerals down here and refine them into fuel cells. Altarion exports judiciously through resistance contacts, and private freighters deliver supplies as needed. They augment off-world shipments with hydroponics,” Carow explained.
Qalu tried to envision the sort of secret that would require fleeing to an undersea facility on an otherwise lifeless world and failed utterly. “But how would Krag get inside this place? You seemed worried about Helix staying here before.”
Praxys answered as the broad, riveted doors opened. “Though we have excellent security, Krag is a penultimate hunter. He’d hijack one of our vessels and use our own equipment against us. But as long as we don’t linger, the Vault should be safe. He’s hunting for one target, not being paid to wipe out our settlements.”
“Is that what you call this place? The Vault?” Qalu didn’t expect confirmation, as a welcoming party comprised of droids and organics equally entered the docking area.
She drew in a deep breath, willing herself not to be nervous. The air was thin but breathable compared to Tiralan, and it carried a dank, salty scent. Rust and condensation dotted the metal walls, despite the resistance’s best efforts. With any luck, the inner aspect of the facility would be cleaner and more hospitable.
As if he sensed her nerves, Helix stepped closer and Aevi nuzzled against her neck. Everything is so strange. She recognized the Barathi among them, but the other two she had never seen before. Of course Qalu understood that the universe was vast, and she hadn’t encountered many aliens on Tiralan, but she’d considered herself reasonably well-educated. This journey was proving that self-assessment to be woefully inaccurate. The droids ranged in size and shape from rectangular and sturdy, to small and oblong; some looked old and battered while others shone with a metallic gleam. One seemed to communicate with pulses of light.