LOVE CODE

ANN AGUIRRE

CONTENTS

Title Page

About the Book

Dedication

Copyright Page

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Author’s Note

He’s cute. He’s cranky. His code is sleek as hell.

What’s an amnesiac AI doing in a place like this? Helix has no idea. He knows he planned to build a life for himself on Gravas Station, but he has no clue what he’s been doing for the last half cycle. Nor does he understand why his ship crashed. A genius Tiralan scientist saved him by copying his code into an organic host, and after meeting her meddling mothers, it seems like his problems have only just begun…

She’s clever. She’s creative. She claims that he’s her mate.

Qalu has no interest in relationships. She’d much rather be working in her lab, innovating instead of socializing. Problem is, the Tiralan believe that one cannot be happy alone. When a solution literally falls from the sky, she leaps at the opportunity to advance her research and teach Helix how to be Tiralan while calming her mothers’ fears. It might be unconventional, but she’s ready to break all the rules for a little peace.

They agree to pose as each other’s mates for the most logical reasons, but love always finds a way.

All books, now and forever, are for Rachel Caine

And for those who love and miss her

Copyright Information

LOVE CODE

Copyright © 2021 by Ann Aguirre

Kindle Edition

Edited by Christa Soulé Désir and Jon Reyes

Cover art by Kanaxa

Formatting by BB eBooks

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form whatsoever, without written permission from the author except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews or articles.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Wow, readers. Strange Love turned out to be way more popular than I expected! I’m so delighted right now; you have no idea. Like me, y’all are really into odd love (yes, I romanced Garrus Vakarian). I appreciate you so much. Since you went for it once, I upped the ante, turned it to eleven, and made it weirder. Two aliens this time! One of them used to be an AI. I don’t know if anyone else is writing about amnesiac AIs in fake relationships, but here we go.

Thanks to the readers who stayed eager for this story over the course of the year as I wrote it serial-style. I mean, 2020 was like a decade long.

Thanks to Christa Desir and Jon Reyes for taking LOVE CODE to the next level. Next, I thank the Tessera Editorial team. From A to Z, they are amazing.

As ever, thanks to my friends, the usual suspects. You know who you are and how well you keep me moving forward. Thanks to my family and the readers who enjoy living in my bizarre brain worlds and somehow keep coming back to see what the heck I do next. This job is the best!

Without further ado, go get some AI loving. Helix awaits!

[  1  ]

HELIX STARTLED INTO CONSCIOUSNESS WITH a jolt.

Which was a shock, because he had never lost awareness before. As an AI, he didn’t sleep, and his mechanical avatar didn’t tire. He stirred, and a flash of something for which he had no analogue screamed through him in a debilitating wave. The aftermath left him panting, and—

Panting?

Panting required respiration. As an inorganic being, he did not breathe.

Yet he had no visual input, so he began to test his systems—no, no, he did not. Nothing responded to that attempted internal reset. He couldn’t get diagnostics online; there was only darkness and that awful, howling sensation.

Query: What is happening? No data emerged, and an unfamiliar sensation swept over him, one that he could not name either.

“Calm down. I can tell you’re conscious by the spike in your vitals.”

That was Tiralan, a language included in the Coalition database. Helix had no recollection of how he’d ended up in his current situation, and some might argue that by duping Zylar and Beryl—the beings he’d previously assisted as an AI and friend—and pretending his memory had been compromised, he merited this unprecedented data loss. It wasn’t that he couldn’t retrieve the information, but he couldn’t even perceive the data clusters. No nodes, no orderly cerebral matrix–unnerving to have no sense of the contents of his own mind.

The quiet voice went on, “You must be quite confused. Open your eyes if you can.”

Eyes? Visual perception organs? That couldn’t be right, but when he focused, he managed to obey the instruction through some process previously unknown. Helix took in his surroundings first, a spacious room with scientific implements and a Tiralan attendant. This one was bronze with small scales covering the upper body. Now that he had encountered a human in the form of Beryl Bowman, he acknowledged the Tiralan were somewhat similar in physiology, though the Tiralan lacked fur and had head tendrils instead. Both species were bipedal and warm-blooded, breathing a similar oxygen-rich cocktail.

Belatedly, he realized he had no means by which to collect data about this unknown Tiralan who had apparently taken him hostage. He should be able to scan this being and know almost everything. He couldn’t. In fact, just looking around seemed to be the peak of his current abilities.

“Try speaking. Your current form creates sound differently than your prior incarnation. Initiate the words here.”

A touch, one he felt, not with sensors, but through…skin? “I… demand…an explanation.” Once he got the first syllable out, communication became easier, but it carried with it an unusual resonance, vibrations he could feel.

In fact, he became aware of other sensory input–subtleties he had never been able to detect before. The room swelled with a chemical tang. His mechanical avatar could have analyzed the precise ratio of the compounds, but he would not have been able to experience them. Not like this. Helix had no parameters to measure the input he was receiving, and instead of letting the rush overload his inexplicable senses, he closed his eyes, waiting for a response.

“I’m Qalu. And you are?”

“Helix.”

She went on, “This is my home and my workplace. Your ship crashed near here and your mech self was destroyed beyond repair. Fortunately, I noticed the uplink to your ship, and I saved you by copying your neural network to a new host.”

Silently, Helix considered the information imparted. There was a crash. I nearly perished. This Tiralan saved me.

“You…have my gratitude,” he managed to say.

“I’m pleased I could assist. Unlike many worlds, Tiralan has no proscriptions against artificial intelligence. In fact, that’s the crux of my work, and why I had a biosynthetic form awaiting imprint when your vessel plummeted.”

He listened to this explanation with partial attention while frantically searching his unresponsive neural network. Helix could not recall anything after his departure from Barath. He had intended to build a new existence, starting on Gravas Station, but he had no idea whether he’d ever gotten there. In fact, he could not be certain how much time had passed since he parted from Zylar and Beryl.

“What is the date?” he asked.

Qalu supplied the answer.

Six spans had passed, not a full cycle at least, and he had no idea what he had been doing for that time. Suddenly, her words registered fully. Biosynthetic?

“Does that mean I am made of meat?”

“Organic material is much cheaper than high quality inorganic,” Qalu said cheerfully. “I can grow bodies in a vat from a few cells, no need for expensive mining or refining techniques. Otherwise, I’d never be able to afford to continue my research.”

“Meat?” Helix repeated.

This was surely a curse, one he had called down with his subterfuge involving Beryl Bowman. Was there a human deity devoted solely to vengeance? He did not have access to that information, but it seemed probable, considering his current predicament.

“Not entirely. Your brain requires some augmentation via specialized hardware, as I haven’t reached the level at which I could download your neural network into a strictly organic host. Perhaps one day!” By the lilt in her tone, she seemed to think that was a desirable breakthrough.

“Deactivate me. You should have let me perish.”

Qalu paused. The Tiralan had been moving about the space, checking implements Helix could not see. “Are you in that much pain?”

Pain. That must be the word for the sensation shrieking along his…nerve endings? How did organic beings tolerate this feeling? He’d known of it in the abstract, but could not have imagined the intensity, prior to this bizarre rebirth.

“Yes.”

“Let me help.” Qalu tapped something, and then something else.

Miraculously, that awful burn receded, until he could think properly again. He didn’t entirely wish for deletion any longer, but he didn’t know if he could adapt to this new situation either. Currently, he seemed to be good for nothing.

“Better,” Helix said.

“I apologize. My first thought was to save you, and I had no way to communicate to obtain your permission, and your data was in danger. Your ship suffered a catastrophic detonation, shortly after I retrieved your code. I’m sorry if your current host is insufficient for your needs.”

Helix decided he was being cruel to one who had pure intentions. “Disregard my prior statement. You acted selflessly. There was no potential gain in saving me, yet you did so with no expectation of repayment.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Qalu said.

“Is it not?” On a sliding scale, how concerned should I be? Helix did not know much about individual Tiralan mores, despite having researched the culture to pretend to be Asvi on the matching service. He had calculated that deceiving Zylar in such a manner was for the greater good, and the Barathi had seemed happy when Helix departed to find his own path.

“Perhaps I intend to make you work for me until you’ve paid off the cost of your new biosynthetic host.”

“You said organic materials are not expensive, so once I recover, logically speaking, it should not take long to perform enough labor as compensation.”

“Your mind is working well,” Qalu said in a satisfied tone.

“Was that a test?”

“Of sorts. I was curious how well you process conversational input.”

That was the least shocking event since his unprecedented awakening. “Is it possible for me to inspect my new form?”

“Certainly.” Qalu hurried away and returned with an implement that reflected a strange countenance.

He had wide eyes, a dark, flat olfactory detector, head tendrils, and a bipedal form. Unlike Qalu, his skin was blue and the delicate scales on his upper body shimmered with a touch of aquatic iridescence.

“I look Tiralan,” he said, somewhat startled by the realization.

But on consideration, it made sense that Qalu would model her work after her own people. Am I attractive for a Tiralan? He had no way of calculating that.

“Are you pleased?” Qalu asked.

“I am… informed,” he replied.

“Do you truly feel well now? I can safely increase the dosage once more, if you don’t.”

“I am not hurting.” It was such a novelty to say that, and this new body must certainly have all sorts of requirements that he’d never experienced. The fascinating possibilities were almost enough to divert him from his missing memories. Almost. “I have some lost time and cannot recall how I came to crash on Tiralan.”

“I’m sorry. I feared there might be some corruption in the transition. I’m glad you didn’t lose all your memories, at least.”

Regret offered no solutions, but it seemed querulous to persist. Perhaps he could retrieve the memories on his own, somehow. “Indeed. Pardon the query, but in my current state, I cannot scan for information. As I recall, the Tiralan choose their gender on attaining maturity. May I ask your choice?” In fact, there were multiple options.

“I am femme,” Qalu said. “Though I’ll note there are those who opt to remain in their neutral state.”

“Understood. Will I be able to choose?” That was an intriguing prospect.

“Of course. Your body is fully Tiralan in every respect.”

QALU THOUGHT, PERHAPS, SHE COULD have been more forthcoming, but Helix had more than enough information to process. The fact was, she hadn’t precisely applied for permission to save Helix’s life. Her work was experimental, even on Tiralan, and the scientific coalition didn’t even know that she’d perfected a prototype. The organization thought she was still at the theoretical stage with her work. Her research qualified for an annual stipend, but she had to tolerate significant oversight. This was an unprecedented opportunity for advancement that had literally fallen from the sky. While it would be safer and more prudent to advise the coalition now, she didn’t know how they’d react to learning she’d found an AI in a failing ship, and that she had made an executive decision to transfer the intelligence. The coalition might deem Helix dangerous and order termination.

I cannot permit that to occur.

Aloud, she added, “Had you selected pronouns before?”

“It was an arbitrary choice, as my prior existence was esoteric. Feel free to use ‘he’ for now. I will inform you if my status changes.”

Qalu nodded, trying to determine how she would explain his arrival to her clan; fortunately, they didn’t share this residence, but they lived nearby and multiple kinfolks would visit before long, and all of them would have questions. Prevarication wasn’t her strong suit either, so if they pressed forcefully, she might reveal the truth.

“Pressing forcefully” encapsulated most interactions with her mothers, as they reminded her often that they worried about her solitary tendencies. The Tiralan cannot live alone, her foremother had said, at least a hundred times.

It wasn’t as if she was completely by herself either; she lived with Aevi, but her foremother, Inatol, claimed that Aevi didn’t count, and this essential disagreement offered another source of contention.

Qalu wished she could earn a respite from the constant meddling. She eyed Helix’s Tiralan form. A ridiculous yet convenient solution glimmered to life, carrying with it all the excitement of a new experiment. It would solve her problem and protect Helix from discovery. But she shouldn’t mention it yet. They probably had time before the interruptions began, and there were more critical issues to assess.

“Can you move?” she asked.

“Move what?”

“Your body. The process will likely be different than the way you interacted with your mechanical format.”

After what looked like a struggle, Helix raised his left lower limb, and then he snapped, “This meat vessel is broken! It does nothing that I request or require.”

“You were trying to lift something else? I wonder if the interface is interpreting your neural signals correctly. There may be…challenges.” She fetched the scanner and ran diagnostics, but all the readings fell within expected parameters. “Or it could be that you must adapt to this new style of communication and there may be a learning curve.”

“What does that mean?” He was cross, which she’d theorized was possible, but it was exciting to have the hypothesis proven.

The ones she had developed were all calm and somewhat remote, and none of them had reached the level of self-sufficiency that made her feel comfortable putting them in the prototype. But the code she’d glimpsed in the ship database—gorgeous, pure, a complete cascade with complex connections and—

Don’t forget your primary purpose. Qalu often got distracted, and sometimes she forgot to consume nutrition when she fixated on a problem.

“That there will probably be a period of adjustment, and I will assist you in any manner you require as you learn what it’s like to be Tiralan.”

“I am not—” Helix started, but then he appeared to recollect his new situation. “Yes. There is a great deal of new knowledge I must acquire. And if it is possible, I would like to uncover how precisely I arrived in this predicament.”

“Though I can’t guarantee efficacy, I’ll work with you to try to recover those lost memories,” Qalu promised.

She hoped the AI could read her sincerity, but he might not have progressed that much in utilizing organic visual receptors. It was a bit disconcerting to communicate with him, however, because she had indulged herself and created a prototype who matched her tastes to the most infinitesimal degree. Now she was speaking with an animated version of her ideal mate, and she hadn’t foreseen how complicated that could become.

“I appreciate your kindness,” Helix said stiffly.

He had given up on trying to move, and that didn’t bode well. To succeed in his new form, he had to try. His former mechanical build had been too damaged for her to possess any sense of how he had interacted with the world prior to the crash, and he’d clearly never inhabited flesh. Therefore, their cumulative knowledge hovered around zero.

Qalu wasn’t the sort to give up easily, which explained ten cycles of devotion to work that had yet to bloom fully. The rest of her clan had resigned themselves to her “tinkering,” and they mostly ignored her efforts or expressed amusement at her infinite perseverance. “Anyone else would have quit by now” summed up their sentiment, and she relished how startled they would be when they realized she had succeeded at last.

I can’t take credit right away. Not until Helix is an unqualified success. I must teach him to be Tiralan.

That necessity firmly in mind, she grasped his forelimb and lifted it, trying to demonstrate his range of motion. Instantly, he recoiled, wrenching away with an instinctive horror that stilled her. She drew away with slow, careful motions.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, but I felt it. I have never felt anything. Intellectually, yes. Emotionally, sometimes, but physically? Never.”

“Then you have sensitivity to tactile stimuli. I’ll take care in the future, and I will never touch you again without explicit permission. Is that satisfactory?”

“Yes. I think I might be able to tolerate it with some preparation, but it’s so strange. Your skin and my…skin? Touching. And I could feel…” Helix trailed off, seeming unable to describe his perceptions accurately.

They could work on that. Qalu already anticipated the unrivaled joy of teaching him everything about the corporeal world. She tried to imagine what it would be like to transition from an ephemeral life, one of data and energy, to a more tangible existence, and she failed utterly.

“We’ll work within the boundaries you set. If you require my assistance going forward, I can don protective gear to eliminate the more intimate contact.”

“That would be preferable,” Helix said at once.

Qalu was already wearing a traditional swator for warmth as much as anything, as the research facility could get chilly, particularly in the evening cycle, and the suns were already setting. Tomorrow, the light would be a long time coming, as one binary star eclipsed the other every ten intervals, resulting in a short, gloomy sunspan. But she could add coverings elsewhere, and she pulled them over her limbs to prove her good intentions.

“May I?” she asked.

“If you must.”

“That’s not permission.”

Helix emitted a low sound she had never heard from a Tiralan before, and it sent a chill through her with its hostility. “Proceed.” Carefully, she touched him with the material between them, and he regarded the point of contact with an unreadable expression.

“Is that better?”

“I do not mind.”

Reassured, she demonstrated how his body could move, showing him the motion herself, then manipulating his limbs for a more concrete example. In time, he replicated simple gestures, though using delicate or fine implements proved impossible. Finally, he snapped, “Enough.”

While she might have argued, there was no opportunity. A clatter arose outside, proving that her hypothesis about “no interruptions” had been incorrect. Panic fluttered through her. I’m not ready. I didn’t tell him my plan.

“Qalu!” a cheerful voice called.

Oh no. It’s my foremother. Qalu had multiple maternal units, but none of them showed as much interest in her personal affairs as this one.

“Where are you? Fiddling with your gadgets again? I’ve arranged four potential matches. You’ll meet them in good grace or disappoint me severely.”

No time.

Quickly, she said in a low tone, “No matter what I say now, do not contradict me. Do you understand? It is vital you cooperate.”

“Understood,” said Helix, though it was apparent from his expression that he had no idea what she meant.

She turned, widening her eyes to offer a friendly welcome, and she tilted her head forward so her head tendrils fluttered forth in a respectful manner. If she were truly as recalcitrant as her foremother suggested, she would not offer either of these greetings.

Inatol brushed past the niceties, hurrying into the room to display the matches she had selected. Qalu restrained a long-suffering sound. Presenting Helix as a suitor was the only explanation that her foremother might accept with regard to an unknown person in Qalu’s residence. Otherwise, she would insist on sending Helix to clan housing, where he would certainly give away his true nature.

“As you can see, I have already found my own mate,” she said, indicating Helix with a respectful twitch of a forelimb. “We have been corresponding on the galactic matching service, and he has just arrived for us to continue our courtship more directly.”

“My auditory inputs are malfunctioning,” Helix said, a trill in his voice that communicated panic. “As I cannot possibly have processed that correctly.”

Qalu increased her volume, speaking over him. “See? Everything is as it should be; he’s perfectly handsome, and it’s very late. You should return to your own residence before the dark grows even colder.”

“Who are you trying to fool?” Inatol snapped. “There are no Tiralan colonies, so it’s impossible that you—”

“You’re forgetting the ancient diaspora,” Qalu cut in, frost practically forming on her words. “The Titan V outpost exists. And you will offend Helix with your intolerance.”

She held her breath, hoping this gambit would solve two problems in one stroke.

Inatol paused as if she might argue, but finally said, “I have no wish to offend. Since it’s rude for me to linger uninvited while you are hosting a guest, I’ll notify you beforehand and return at a more convenient time.” That was a straightforward statement indicating this wasn’t over.

Qalu tried to conceal her relief over the reprieve. “Thank you. I’ll contact you soon and you can get to know Helix better then.”

Grateful to Helix for remaining silent, she escorted her foremother out.

[  2  ]

PRIOR TO THIS MOMENT, HELIX had not believed it possible for an AI to hallucinate, but that was the logical explanation. Perhaps his hardware had been damaged; therefore, he had created this elaborate illusion, possibly as a manifestation of his regret over past wrongs. Otherwise, why else would a Tiralan be claiming he was a prospective mate she had met—on the galactic matching service—the same one he had used to deceive Zylar?

On some level, he was intrigued by this ability to create such a vivid dream, but also unsettled by it. He had no experience with what organic life forms referred to as “dreams.” Helix never slept and he certainly never created complicated fantasies.

He needed to wake up in truth and evaluate how badly his chassis was damaged. But no matter how hard he tried to exit this delusion, he remained locked into this flesh form that refused to do his bidding. Qalu was quite graceful as she returned, her movements light and fluid.

She’d shocked him with the deceptive statements she made to her progenitor; he recalled that there were other titles used on Tiralan. Odd that he could retrieve random, trivial data regarding Tiralan culture—such as the fact that pair-bonds were rare, as most Tiralan favored larger amorous and/or platonic love groups—while the past half cycle was blank in his memory. If he could have gotten up, he might have fled; not that he suspected it would help.

When Qalu returned, he said, “Explain.”

“I didn’t want to vex you while you’re recovering, but…” She took several nano-spans to convey a bizarre scenario, in which he would play a leading role while pretending to be her potential mate.

“Let me see if I have parsed this. My existence may be imperiled if they discover you downgraded me into a meat bundle. Therefore, I must cooperate, purporting to be your love interest, to deflect suspicion from your clan and the science coalition.”

Her head tendrils fluttered in reaction. Helix sifted through his recollections and drew out the awareness that this meant relief. The Tiralan had a complex and subtle system of body language, including limbs and tendrils, and if one wasn’t well-versed, one could easily misinterpret verbal responses by overlooking the nuances of gesture.

“That’s correct.”

“I do not believe in any of this. I’m convinced my data-collection systems must be malfunctioning, but I am interested to see where this strange…dream takes us.” The word “dream” was not one he had used in relation to himself before, but it was the only one that applied to the situation.

Qalu stilled. “You posit that I am a figment of your imagination? Why a Tiralan? We are not gregarious, nor do we travel off-world often. My foremother is correct about that.”

He’d known that. It was why Zylar had thought his fictitious Tiralan match was a misfit, a rare soul willing to leave her clan. “You mentioned a diaspora.”

“You’re not familiar with our history? The tale spans volumes, but I suspect you’d lose patience with an unabridged rendition.”

“I do prefer efficiency, yes.”

“Then the crux of it is this—we were brought from our ancient homeworld long ago by an advanced race. Their names are lost to time, but they traveled in vast pyramid ships and we considered them to be gods. They took a number of us and seeded our line throughout the universe. We thrived on Tiralan, and there is one small outpost elsewhere, Titan V. There may be other lost colonies. According to the old writings, it’s possible we may yet encounter our brethren among the stars, though it’s likely they would not look precisely as we do.”

“Due to deviation along evolution paths,” Helix said.

“Precisely.”

“You did an excellent job in summing up the issue. Then I collect that you’ve intimated I come from Titan V. Would I not find it difficult to adapt to life on Tiralan after being reared on a space station? I expect there might be physiological issues.”

“It is…a challenge,” she admitted slowly. “But I’ll come up with a plausible solution. Perhaps Titan V offers therapy and nutritional supplements to ensure there’s no loss of bone density or muscle mass.”

“Wait a moment, I’ll check…” Normally, he would be able to retrieve this information instantly but the numbers didn’t come. He ought to be able to calculate the odds that a Tiralan reared in space would be able to adapt to life on the ground. “What have you done to me? I can’t even do simple mental calculations any longer! I should know if someone in my situation could acclimate on Tiralan!”

“First, that’s not a simple calculation. There’s an incredible amount of data to process, and your capabilities are different. Learning to use them effectively will require time and effort.”

“You keep saying that,” he said irritably. “But everything is terrible and slow, my mind most of all.”

Her posture indicated she intended to deploy humor. “Blame yourself. You just said this isn’t real, so is there some reason you would punish yourself in this fashion?”

Helix uttered a soft, despairing sound, one the Tiralan throat was comfortingly suited to express. “Yes.”

Her forelimbs and her head tendrils drifted toward him, expressing the desire to comfort, but she did not touch him. Even if this fantasy served as penance, as he lay trapped in the wreckage of the ship, it still reassured him that she would keep her promise and not foist unwanted intimacy on him. That burgeoning trust was critical, as he couldn’t currently fend for himself.

She said only, “I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps I can help you heal.”

“Healing is an organic process.”

“You’re part of that world now,” Qalu noted. “More to the point, I meant mental damage more than physical. You can be harmed in the same way any sentient being can.”

Once she expressed it that way, he was forced to concede she had a point. Her kindness was unexpected, as was her concern that he might be experiencing an emotional wound. A strange feeling swelled, similar to how he had felt when he considered Zylar being taken from him, but not exactly the same. He would need to research various emotions and how to identify them because while he had words to name the concepts, he didn’t necessarily know how such sensations would manifest, especially in a biological unit.

“Thank you,” he said finally.

Perhaps this dream was part of that process—the healing one. This gentle Tiralan could be the conduit that allowed him to move past self-recrimination for the Tiralan he had invented to manipulate Zylar.

Before she could respond, the weird feeling expanded and his insides lurched or rumbled; he had no context for what was happening. It was adjacent to the pain for which she had medicated him, but more like…discomfort?

“What’s wrong?”

“I am not certain.” Reflexively, he pressed against his abdomen and then with a joyous start, he realized he’d moved. Not by ordering it, just by doing it. Instinct, not command.

That was what she’d been trying to explain earlier, about how he needed to believe this body belonged to him, and it would naturally do as he wished. Awed, he raised one limb, then the other, overwhelmed by the sheer satisfaction of it. Qalu was practically vibrating with excitement, and her eyes widened as his insides emitted a horrible sound.

“You’re hungry. I’ve been nourishing the prototype via nutrients in the tank, but you’ve never actually eaten. You must feel hollow.”

“Correct,” he replied.

“I’ll get you something to eat. Since you won’t have preferences yet, I’ll bring a few of my favorite dishes for you to try. It’s going to be so exciting to discover what you enjoy!” Her pleasure was genuine and unfettered.

It was a bit strange to imagine anyone taking this much delight in offering him various nutritive packets. While she was gone, he managed to get off the surface he had been lying on, landing on his lower limbs, only to find them awkward and ungainly. Helix took a few steps and promptly toppled over. Grimly, he hauled to his feet and repeated the process, falling five more times before he made it to the next room, an open space with technology similar to what they used on Barath. The interfaces were different, the Tiralan used an entirely different symbolic system. Luckily, he could read it.

This room was sparsely furnished, geometric shapes and clean lines. Darkness showed through the view panels and everything was washed in warm light, gilding Qalu’s bronze skin. Her scales held a flicker of heat, red tones, and—he had no idea why he was noticing any of that. How exceptionally odd. She made musical sounds as she presumably gathered sustenance.

The less Helix thought about what his body should be doing, the easier it got. An inkling stirred, that if this was not a delusion, one day this form might be much more intuitive and capable than the mech unit had been. He stumbled up to the meal service unit, and she nearly dropped the container she was holding. “You’re walking. Already! I’m so proud of you.”

It was baffling how pleased he felt when she praised him.

THIS FELT LIKE A MOMENTOUS occasion, though Qalu couldn’t have said why.

Possibly because it heralded the beginning of her glowing reputation as an incredible innovator in the field of biosynthetic life science. She sang as she put together their meal, creating some with the manufacturer and preparing other dishes with her own hands out of fresh ingredients. Typically, she didn’t take that much trouble over her own food, eating whatever was most convenient, but since this was the first food Helix had ever tasted, it ought to be special.

Soon, she had an impressive spread ready for him to try. Empirically, she knew how much caloric intake he required, but she wouldn’t mention that. He could eat whatever he wanted. But she realized he had no idea how to go about that. His limbs were clumsy and he didn’t know how to use utensils. She’d never considered how many basic tasks would require a tutorial, but he might get annoyed if she tried to explain.

Quietly she demonstrated, picking up the scoop, and after a brief hesitation, he copied the gesture with impressive dexterity for one who was unaccustomed to performing such tasks. Qalu nudged a dish toward him–her favorite, roast nornroot in a seasoned sauce. She watched his expression as he ate and the dawning wonder as the taste flowered for him, subtle and soft at first, with a heat from the various spices that bloomed over time, gaining complexity and savor.

“This is…” It was endearing the way he simply stopped speaking when he lacked the capacity to articulate what he was experiencing.

“Delicious?” she suggested.

“I lack any basis for comparison, but I… like this. Very much.” With greater enthusiasm, he tackled other dishes, making faces now and then—he didn’t care for the stewed algae at all—but he always went back to the roast nornroot.

“So do I. It’s my foremother’s recipe, and she programmed my manufacturer personally, as if I can’t input the proper ingredients and ratios.”

“I am unable to evaluate this statement for accuracy, as I have no progenitors.”

“You’re not acquainted with the one who created your initial…” Now Qalu hesitated, wondering how to phrase it in a respectful manner. “Neural matrix?”

“That information is unavailable to me.” His head tendrils quivered, possibly an instinctive expression of confusion or distress.

Since he had a Tiralan body, those gestures would come naturally, even if he didn’t realize the significance. “Would you like to know more about your creator?”

“I… have never thought about it–never questioned my antecedents. It’s common on Barath for affluent households to have an AI manage the smart habitat. I was fortunate to be valued for my conversation and companionship as well.”

“It sounds as if you were happy there. The situation must have changed, or you wouldn’t have left.” Qalu wouldn’t pry, but she was curious. Not that he seemed to possess the most critical piece of information: why he’d crashed on Tiralan.

“I would prefer not to provide more details at this juncture,” he said, as if he feared she would insist.

“Your secrets are your own. I’m here to help, not to break your defenses. Safeguards are present for a reason. When you trust me more, you will share of your own free will.”

Helix regarded her in silence for so long that it was unnerving, not least because he was too damned attractive. “No one has ever expressed a desire to earn my trust.”

“That’s regrettable,” Qalu said. “As it’s the most crucial part of a relationship.”

“It’s a pity none of this is real. I truly had no idea that my imagination was sufficient to conjure up such savory delusions.”

“I’ll try to make your stay enjoyable.” She didn’t address his assertion that he was inhabiting a fantasy. Eventually he would accept his new reality.

He’d already adapted quite well to his new physical form, all things considered, but it would be so awkward when she had to teach him about other biological requirements—oh. Perhaps there was a solution. Before clearing away the remnants of their meal, she brought a holographic reader, loaded with some key facts about Tiralan physiology, such as fecal evacuation procedures and the system developed to dispose of it. No matter how dedicated she was to her work, she couldn’t bring herself to offer a more interactive tutorial.

Qalu hurried away, leaving him to scan the information. By the time she stored the food, he was visibly agitated. “Are you telling me I must do…that? Regularly? Forever.” Such an aggrieved and horrified tone. His head tendrils drooped, a palpable aura of misery about him. “How often?”

It would be so inappropriate to reveal her amusement, but she struggled to quell it. “Yes, yes, and it’s impossible for me to say. Your biological cycle will be unique, though it will certainly depend on your alimental intake.”

“I will never consume anything again.”

An adorably childish declaration, and she had no intention of arguing, though she predicted when he got hungry again, he would change his mind. “It’s late. Let me show you to your personal space.”

Qalu didn’t often have visitors, but sometimes one of her altmothers argued with her foremother and retreated to Qalu’s residence until the quarrel cooled. There were no particular parameters on Tiralan for familial units, and four strong-willed femmes formed Qalu’s foundational nurture-bond, so occasional conflict was unavoidable. Brimming with nervous anticipation, she tried not to hover as she led the way.

Any Tiralan visitor would find this space calming, as it was free of color and distraction, light as the only adornment, but she wondered how Helix felt. Perhaps he would prefer more objects, though of what type, she had no notion. Just as she was about to inquire, he said, “This is to be my domicile?”

“Yes.” She hesitated, reluctant to leave, but there was no reason to stay.

“Do you have an AI to assist with household tasks? If so, it would be polite for me to introduce myself before I withdraw.”

Qalu’s head tendrils shivered over how charming that offer was. “I don’t, currently. There’s Aevi, of course, but tomorrow is soon enough for you two to meet.”

Aevi must know she had a visitor by now, but she tended to be standoffish with strangers, so she was likely hiding in Qalu’s quarters. Hopefully she wouldn’t startle Helix by coming to inspect him during the sleep cycle.

He spun so quickly that Qalu almost reached out to steady him, drawing back only as she remembered her promise. “Did you say Asvi?” he asked.

“No, Aevi. Why?”

“It doesn’t signify, just more of my mental caprice. Thank you for the hospitality. It will be unique to have my own space.”

“This is the sleeping platform. I’m sure you’re familiar, but if you aren’t, adjust the temperature settings here. I like to be toasty, but I’m usually wrapped in my swator as well, so I set it a bit lower.”

“That’s what this garment is called?” He plucked at the folds enveloping him, and the motion drew her attention to the sea-gleam of his scales.

Stop. You will not be improper with one who relies on you.

“Yes, it’s traditional on Tiralan during eclipse season. The gloom lasts for a long time, every ten-span, and the darktides are long.”

“Understood. You have been most helpful.”

“Restful sleep,” she bade him.

That prompted another response as she turned to go. “There is something with which you could further assist.”

Qalu took comfort in that request. When he’d first awakened, he had been so angry that she thought he might despise her forever for saving him. “Certainly.”

“I have never done it, so I have no idea how it’s accomplished.”

“What, Helix?”

“Sleep. Out of intellectual curiosity, how does one sleep? Though I might posit that it’s impossible for one who is dreaming already.”

That was both an incredibly basic and incredibly difficult question. She’d never attempted to lay out the steps before. “You get into a comfortable, relaxed position. Quiet your mind. And you…drift away. Or turn off your conscious mind? I’m not sure how to describe it.”

“You can do this with ease? Simply switch off your thoughts.”

“Sometimes it’s difficult,” she admitted. “There are those who struggle with it, and medicines exist to ease the process, but you won’t know if you can do it until you try.”

“Today is a day of wonders,” he muttered. “I eat, I shall attempt to sleep. I’m a biological marvel.”

Qalu let out a gusty breath in silent amusement. “You are indeed. I’ll leave you to it. Dream well, if you manage to sleep, Helix.”

He reached for her then, but he didn’t connect, likely remembering the shock of skin on skin. Suddenly, it seemed unspeakably intimate to her as well, not something that should be done lightly.

“Qalu.”

Ah, why did it sound so lovely when he spoke her name for the first time?

“Yes?”

“Will you stay with me? And perhaps make the sounds you created when you were preparing the food?”

Every single one of her head tendrils fluttered. Oh no, you may not. Stop. She only said, “Of course. There is a melody my foremother employed when I was fractious. Would you like to hear it?”

“Please,” he said, as if there was nothing he wanted more.

Softly, she began to sing.

[  3  ]

SLEEP WAS…STRANGE.

Helix had no memory of accomplishing the process, yet he had apparently performed the task adequately. He had been listening to the Tiralan lullaby, and then, there was simply a gap in his recollections, as if he had stopped existing for that span of time. Truly, it was an unsettling, uniquely organic experience.

The day/night cycles on Tiralan were different than those on Barath, not that he’d ever perceived the shifts in the light personally. It came to him in the abstract, data to be processed, and that was cleaner. It was beyond strange to move through the physical world instead of parse it as a series of values and probabilities. For a few moments, he tried to get up, then realized that the trying part was wrong. In this realm, instincts regulated his ability to propel his flesh form. When he relaxed and stopped thinking, the motion happened, and he stumbled upright.

The movement triggered sensors that controlled the illumination system, creating a gentle, golden glow. Once, he could’ve connected with everything in the habitat, discover how everything worked, and optimize efficiency with the flicker of a thought. Now, he had no such aptitude, and he scarcely understood his new format, but it appeared that he had to touch things to interact with them.

So inefficient.

As Helix moved toward the exit, the wall parted to admit a small being, a quadruped with large eyes, a triangular head, and a slender body covered in feathery scales that gleamed with blue iridescence. Sharp claws tipped all four feet, a soft tapping as it crept toward him. Helix regarded the newcomer warily, wishing he could access his database and instantly identify this life form, but that information was fragmented and incomplete, transferred into an imperfect memory state.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Aevi, companion to Qalu. Who are you?”

He recalled the name from the night before at least; there was nothing wrong with his memory storage. “My designation is Helix.”

“Why?”

“I don’t understand the inquiry,” he said.

“Why are you designated Helix? What does your name mean? Why are you called that? I’m called Aevi because it means ‘fallen star’ and Qalu found me when I was a nestling. I had been abandoned by my progenitors, likely because I was the smallest, and she nursed me back to health. She also implanted technology that allows us to converse like equals. Which brings me back to my original question. Why are you Helix? Is it a geometric story?”

“Do you know geometry?” he asked.

“A little. I don’t like it. Calculus is more fun. But I remember the equation for you!” Aevi scampered to the wall and scraped claws until the following appeared:

x = a sinθ, y = a cosθ, z = b θ.

“Fascinating,” said Helix. “In fact, I do not know how or why I acquired this designation. It never occurred to me to query the origins.”

Aevi scampered down from the wall and came toward him, twining around his ankles with a tasting apparatus fluttering out to…sample him? That couldn’t be right, but he felt the touch and scrambled backward. He couldn’t get used to that, the absolute intrusion of it, of someone else imposing themselves on him, as if trying to scrape away his essence.

“Why not?” The little being crept toward him in what felt like a stalking posture, like Aevi might possibly latch on physically while demanding answers.

A flicker of an unpleasant feeling began within him. He didn’t know what to call it, precisely, but he was ready to end this conversation. Why and why not seemed to be Aevi’s favorite words, and he couldn’t adequately explain the lack of curiosity that had dictated his life before. Even when his behavior deviated from acceptable algorithms, it had been concern for Zylar and some instinct for self-preservation that determined his actions.

Helix had never pursued information for its own sake. He mined data purposefully, serving Zylar’s interests as best he could. It never would have occurred to him to wonder why he was called Helix.

“That’s enough,” said Qalu. “I see you’ve already met our guest and have begun pestering him already.”

“He doesn’t even know what his name means. He can’t be very clever,” Aevi declared. “I have no idea what you want with this one. Is it because he’s pretty?”

That was an appalling insult to one who had recently been unparalleled in intelligence. “Perhaps I am incorrect, due to cultural differences, but it seems as if your companion is being rude.”

“Aevi, mind your manners. We don’t often have visitors, so she’s gotten into the habit of expressing her every thought, mostly because I don’t mind.”

As Helix noted the proper pronoun, Aevi hissed, then said, “I won’t apologize!”

Then the little being scampered from the room in a rush of angry claws. Snaps was the only comparable companion Helix had encountered, and the fur-person had been easier to handle. Snaps had enjoyed chasing the cleaning unit and digging in the garden. Somehow, he doubted a companion species that was bored by geometry but found calculus entertaining would be amused by such simple pastimes.

“She can be a bit grouchy and territorial,” Qalu noted.

“So I observe. Is it discourteous to inquire as to her species? I am unable to connect to any additional databases at present.”

“Is that so?” She came closer, though she stopped short of physical contact. “The processor is a prototype, but I never intended to cut you off from all your normal resources. That must be very frustrating.”

“And limiting.”

“I’ll run diagnostics and restore that function as soon as possible. And regarding your question, Aevi is a Pherzul, highly intelligent and native to Tiralan. They normally stay within their own colonies, but when I found Aevi, I couldn’t let her perish.”

“That was…kind,” he said, though he had no true notion whether that word applied in this instance.

“Sometimes I wonder, because she’s deprived of all the normal relationships she would’ve known. Perhaps her progenitors would have returned for her.”

“There is little probability of that. If she was in a precarious state, it seems more logical to conclude that you did, in fact, save her. And that life with you is preferable to none at all, even if it deviates from Pherzul norms.”

Qalu’s head tendrils fluttered. “That is…peculiarly comforting, if a bit grim.”

“I’m pleased I can offer value.”

“Perhaps those were your original parameters, but you aren’t required to be productive or useful here. Interacting with you is enough for me.”

Another emotional response, this one softer and more pleasant. But before he could respond, a terrible wave hit him, a fire centered in his being, and his limbs crumpled, unable to bear weight. He immediately wanted whatever she had given him the day before to make this stop, but he couldn’t get the words out.

“Helix? Where does it hurt?” He tried to indicate, but his flesh wouldn’t cooperate. She bent beside him without touching him, using a device to investigate his physical state. “This may seem like an odd question, but have you…emitted waste since we ate last night?”

“No!” The horrified answer came out sharper than he intended.

“I believe that’s the problem. To help you to the facilities, I need to touch you. Do I have your permission?”

“Yes.”

This time, he barely noticed her touch because there was so much interference screaming inside him. Their progress was a stumbling blur, and Helix wished he could block out what followed with her hovering outside, calling concerned questions. “Are you all right? Do you have any questions? Did you manage to—?”

“It is done,” he said, emerging from the hygiene room with a sense of violation.

I ate things. Processed them. And they passed through me. How egregious. If only his data storage would dump this memory as well as everything else that had happened in the last half cycle. A secondary failure in synapses, particularly one so specific, seemed highly improbable, but then, this entire situation defied all logic. Part of him still believed this was a dream, but he’d slept and woken and shouldn’t that have returned him to reality?

“There should have been smaller physiological signs,” Qalu said. “I suspect you didn’t recognize the cues and ignored them when they were subtle, until they manifested as pain. That’s not the typical experience. Most beings begin learning about their bodies from birth.”

“I don’t understand.” How Helix loathed saying that, over and over. Her words made sense separately, but what were these cues that he was supposed to identify?

She paused as if to consider her response. “I’ve never had to describe it before. This is familiar, like when I was trying to explain sleep. So many things, I’ve never taken the time to break them down. I take the process for granted. How curious.”

“I would be grateful for any information you could provide. It would be preferable to avoid repeating this trial.”

THIS WAS THE LAST DISCUSSION Qalu had expected to have on her first day with Helix.

She had expected to teach him many things but among them, she hadn’t envisioned so much focus on…biology. On a certain level, that made sense since everything about possessing a body was new to him. Hopefully, he would master this aspect swiftly because this topic was simultaneously amusing and awkward.

After some reflection, she said, “Tightness. A sense of being full? Minor pains and pressure. When you detect those sensations, you need to repeat this process. It will become more comfortable with practice.”

“I doubt I would ever describe it thus, but thank you for the information.”

“The hollowness you noticed before, that’s hunger. It’ll occur periodically as you get accustomed to your new life.”

“An endless cycle of consumption,” Helix said in a despondent tone.

“You may come to enjoy it, especially as you develop palate preferences. Speaking of which, we should eat before I assess your functionality.”

“Is there no other way to sustain organic life?” he muttered. “There must be meatlings who have transcended these tedious processes.”

“There are nutritive packets tailored to reduce waste, but they’re not very enjoyable. But if you find eating objectionable, I can procure them to reduce your discomfort.”

She glanced back to make sure he was following her into the common space. He replied as she set out food left from their meal the night before. “I am bewildered, but also willing to withstand a reasonable adjustment period. If certain matters don’t grow less disagreeable over time, we can discuss other options.”

“Understood. Have you thought at all what you’d like to do while we’re together?”

“Do?” he repeated, seeming puzzled. “Are you referring to your statement that I must perform labor to recompense you for installing me in this form?”

“Not at all! Perhaps I’m presuming too much, but it seemed like you had work you enjoyed before. I was only asking what you might wish to learn or study, something that interests you.”

“Not work then but…a hobby?”

“Along those lines, yes.”

“I’ve never considered that.”

“You weren’t given free time before?” It was hard not to sound disapproving, but she focused her critical stare on her food. If there were no regulations in place on Barath governing how much work could be required of an AI, there ought to be. All sentient beings deserved the freedom to pursue happiness.

“My work did not keep me constantly occupied, but it did not occur to me to…”

“Expend effort on your own behalf?” she suggested.

“Yes. I was designed to serve one user, but ultimately, my operating parameters changed. I’m not even sure when or how it happened.”

“A gradual procession? That’s intriguing! I had no idea that was even possible.”

“Nor was I,” said Helix.

Qalu would dearly love to ask when he’d first become…oh. Sentient felt like the wrong word and self-aware didn’t seem right either. That question should wait until they got to know each other better, establishing trust. Perhaps he would also discuss matters he had elected to keep private, such as why he had left Barath.

She ate another bite of roast nornroot, noting how he mimicked the motion. “You have time to explore many possibilities. Are you interested in art?”

“Art?” It was adorable how he repeated words that baffled him.

“I meant, are you interested in creating it? Music, painting, sculpture? You had limited access to methods of self-expression before.”

“Currently, I lack sufficient data to determine whether I would enjoy such an endeavor. After diagnostics, you could show me some Tiralan works to establish a sample set and from there, I could—”

“There’s plenty of time,” she cut in, hoping to reassure him.

Helix seemed anxious that she would expect him to become immediately proficient in all Tiralan artistic styles, and that wasn’t the point. In her peripheral vision, she noted Aevi skulking, doubtless cross about being excluded from the conversation, but the little one had also stormed off while refusing to apologize to a guest. It would do Aevi no harm to reflect on her misbehavior, so Qalu pretended not to see.

“You wish me to cohabitate with you, learn about Tiralan arts and culture, and…do nothing more productive? At present, I am fairly useless, but I should master basic tasks quickly. I can assist with household management and make your life easier in countless ways. I am fully versed in—”

“Helix.” Qalu wished she could touch him to offer comfort, as his situation must feel quite precarious.

“Yes?”

“You are not my employee. I hope in time that we shall be friends, and I don’t require anything of those who are dear to me.”

“But I am not.”

“Not what?”

“Dear to you. We have not known one another long.”

While technically true, it didn’t account for the time she’d spent caring for him before he woke. It would put too much pressure on him if he knew, but the memory came, sharp and unbidden. That day, she had been walking with Aevi when the ship came down in a ball of fire, smashing into the hillside, close enough for her to see the smoke. She’d run straight toward the flames, fearful that there might be survivors in need of rescue.

She’d planned to notify Tiralan emergency services, but when she got in range, her scans revealed no organic life. As she was about to leave, her sensors pinged with a different alert. There was a sentient being in peril, just not the usual sort. She hadn’t crawled into the fire, but she had saved him and raced home, with Aevi complaining the whole way. First she’d carefully transferred his data and then safeguarded it with multiple backups. Afterward, she worked for weeks to ensure the prototype was ready to receive such a beautiful and complex code.

The day she activated his current neural matrix and started the stream, she had suffered such thrilling trepidation, agonies of excitement. Like a nurse, she tended him for a full span, monitoring his health. It was even longer until he came fully alert, offering more than baseline responses to stimuli. In truth, the day before he opened his eyes, she had feared abject failure, that her prototype wasn’t capable of housing such a beautiful mind.

“True enough,” she said. “But it doesn’t change my expectations. My only request is that you pretend to be fond of me when my mothers inevitably ask to meet you.”

“Fondness, what does that entail, precisely?”

Here was another question that she was ill-equipped to answer. She had never been natural at forming the connections that other Tiralan found so effortless. Her mothers all cherished one another, and their bonds had been tight and functional for long, stable cycles. They anticipated each other’s needs and always seemed to know when space was required. Such interactions felt alien to Qalu, akin to asking someone else to fill in pieces that didn’t seem to be missing in the first place.

Finally, she settled on an incomplete answer. “Caring about my thoughts, showing interest in my well-being, asking if my needs are met. For some, it also involves physical contact, but I will not ask that of you.”

“Thank you.” With precise motions that she couldn’t help but admire, considering how new he was to all this, he finished his food. “Can we begin the assessment? I wish to restore as much of my former capacity as possible.”

“Certainly. This way.”

She hurried ahead to the lab and switched on all the equipment as Helix joined her. Already, his movements were smoother and better coordinated, and he was distractingly attractive. Just from looking at him, no Tiralan would ever guess what she had achieved, and that sent a flicker of delight through her.

“Shall I sit?” he asked.

“Please. Just let me attach sensors here and here, like so. This will be quick.”

Or it should have been. The scans took no time at all, but none of the data explained why he couldn’t connect to the wider network. Theoretically, his internal processor had the ability to send and receive, but that function was disabled currently, no explanation as to the cognitive connective failure.

What’s causing this?

The rest of his systems were operating within normal parameters, and his vitals were excellent. He tolerated a whole battery of tests, where she gauged his internal knowledge base, establishing gaps in his awareness that seemed mainly limited to personal details. He knew the history of the coalition, which worlds were founding members, and he could even quote random bits of Tiralan poetry, but when she asked, “Why did your ship crash?” he went silent.

“Unknown,” he finally responded.

“Unfortunately, I can’t resolve this connection issue immediately. I’ll keep working on it, but in the meantime, you can use any terminal to access our network.”

“With these?” He regarded his forelimbs with a weary expression.

“It should get easier.”

“I certainly hope so. It is quite exhausting to exist in meat space.”

“Try not to focus on the challenges. Here, watch how I activate this.” She demonstrated the portal, bringing up some examples of modern Tiralan art. “This is one of my favorites, ‘Portrait of a Young Femme.’”

With impressive quickness, he duplicated her motions, working the holo screens with rapid dexterity, sifting through hundreds of masterpieces in the time it took for his eyes to flick back and forth. In all honesty, it was too fast for her to even process the images, let alone know what he was looking at.

“Yes,” he said.

Despite her intention to remain an unmoved and reliable mentor, her head tendrils fluttered at the intensity of that single word. “Yes what?”

Helix gazed at her as if all his hopes hinged on her reply. “I am interested in art. Will you provide the means to create it?”

[  4  ]

FOR NEARLY HALF A SPAN, Helix immersed himself in art.

It was pointless and liberating.

In the beginning, he had suspected that Qalu would eventually present her true agenda—or that he would awaken from this dream. Neither had occurred.

Physical necessities grew less outrageous and unpleasant through repetition, and he was beginning to take pleasure in food, just as Qalu had predicted. Everything was strange, but there was great joy in choosing colors, mixing them, making something from nothing, a feat he never could have imagined in his prior existence. He had no knack for poetry, but he loved painting. Crafting objects from another medium, he enjoyed that as well. And he had no aptitude for music. All these things, he’d learned while bearing Qalu company.

And she kept her promises. While they interacted constantly, sharing thoughts and ideas, she never touched without permission. He had explored the grounds a little, usually with Aevi watching from a distance, but mostly their lives had been quiet, no intrusions from her kinfolk or random callers. Qalu seemed to treasure a solitary existence, most unusual for a Tiralan.

There had been no movement in his memory, nor could he connect to the Tiralan network, but he grew used to searching for information manually. And slowly, he began to believe that his new incarnation wasn’t lesser, only different. The pain that had plagued him in the beginning no longer spiked, and he learned that overusing his body could create that feeling as well.

So much to process.

In his first attempts at art, he’d imitated other works, copying stroke for stroke, but Qalu said that wasn’t creation, only production. Now he wandered freely, seeking what she called “inspiration.” Currently, he stood near the crash site, not verifying her tale, but assessing the scraps of charred metal, the burned and dry foliage, and the scar his arrival had left on the landscape. The colors were both bleak and stunning, darkness interspersed with bright yellow vines that crawled across the wreckage, the hillside seeking to heal the damage.

He had been part of this ship, lived in the data clusters, and experienced the physical world only through a mech unit. There had probably been questions, even on Gravas Station. Fueling attendants would’ve wondered who his mech served, and if they scanned to find an “empty” ship, more inquiries would have followed. Is that what happened? Was I running from a threat when I crashed here? But why Tiralan of all places? It wasn’t a popular trade route, and Helix had no explanation for why he would’ve sought shelter here, if he’d felt imperiled.

Helix drew in a breath, sweet with the scent of growing things. He closed his eyes and focused: yellow thornvine, daybell, starwort, and loose pollen from the firevale tree. All plants native to Tiralan, flaunting their stamens in the wind, and the aroma was heady, spicy and green with a hint of loam. At first, he could not name what he was experiencing, but Qalu answered questions with infinite patience, and he now had the capacity to acquire information on his own, though it was slower than before.

There were pleasures in the physical world—to feel the wind on his skin, the warmth of the twin suns, though the days were short during eclipse season. According to the calendar Qalu had shared, the next occlusion would occur soon, and darktide would last twice as long. Perhaps the event would inspire him to create something unique, a quality that so far eluded him.

Opening his eyes, he crouched and touched fragments from the wreckage, silver and black, dusty and bubbled from the heat. Qalu had not exaggerated in calling it a catastrophic detonation. Then he picked up the shard, wanting to keep it for murky reasons, a memento or a souvenir or a relic; such impulses were new to him.

“How is it possible that I don’t understand my own processes?” he muttered.

“Why are you keeping that?” Aevi asked.

He had known the little Pherzul was shadowing him when he left the habitat, but since she seemed disinclined to interact, he ignored her presence. But now she was suddenly here, skittering around his lower limbs, rear extensor whipping with curiosity. She reared up on her hind limbs and before he could stop her, she scaled him, bouncing off various parts until she came to rest on his shoulder. Her feathery extensor twined around him, and she let out a soft sound, similar to a Barathi churr.

The vocalization comforted him and made him feel lonely at the same time. Now, at least, he had a term for the feeling, a hollow ache that made him want to see Zylar and tell him what was happening, to apologize to Beryl once more, because now that he was stuck in a strange place with little control over what befell him, he understood what he’d done to her. The fact that it ended well didn’t absolve him of responsibility.

“I am unsure.”

“I see. I see. Sometimes I do that too. Qalu scolds because I steal shiny things and sometimes she needs them, and I don’t know why I do. But I have to hide the shiny things; they’re mine! They should all be mine.”

This was the first moment with Aevi that could be considered amicable, as she hissed and avoided him or stalked him from the shadows, leaping out in hope of startling him. So his response mattered or this rare accord would be broken. “Then you understand my uncertainty,” he said finally, unable to determine a better rejoinder.

“I do! If I support your need to collect dirty things, will you tell Qalu not to fuss over my shinies?”

“Perhaps Qalu could acquire two shiny things, one for you to keep and the other for her to use?” he suggested.

Truly, he had no notion whether that idea was viable. Some objects doubtless required more resources to obtain. And Qalu had not given him access to her financial records, leaving him unable to determine what was a reasonable request.

“Yes! Let’s ask her. We can go right now. Please, can we?” The rear extensor tickled as it whipped around, and for some reason, Aevi’s proximity didn’t set off the usual recoil.

Somehow, they had become temporary allies. “I am ready to return.”

Helix expected she would leap off his shoulder, but instead, she settled in, as if she meant to ride him back to the habitat. He could think of no courteous way to demand that Aevi dismount, and furthermore, in all probability, such a request would also mar their tenuous rapport. Therefore, he resigned himself to being a Pherzul conveyance. As they proceeded, however, he didn’t mind her weight and the churrs she made reminded him of home, of the Barathi, and more familiar times, even if he hadn’t been part of that world physically, as he was here on Tiralan.

Her claws gripped his swator, offering hints of sharpness, but she was careful not to hurt him, a technique doubtless perfected through contact with Qalu. It was easy and surprisingly pleasant to imagine them roving together like this, and he experienced a pang of…something. Not an emotion he had felt before, as he was still learning, and there were so many, some of which appeared to be tied to his physical host.

Aevi chattered the entire way back, bits of nothing about what she saw or smelled, and he found it…comforting. He didn’t need to respond; she didn’t seem to expect it, and by the time they entered the residence together, she was nuzzling against the side of his face and acting with what he thought be called…fondness. What Qalu had requested he demonstrate in front of her mothers.

Did that mean he was supposed to perch on top of her? No, she’d said that she wouldn’t require physical contact as part of their arrangement. As he puzzled over this requirement, Aevi called, “Qalu! We need to speak to you!”

Soon, she emerged from the lab, her eyes bright with…curiosity? He had begun to enjoy trying to identify her responses, based on visual cues and the nuance of her gestures. Such assessment demanded complete attention; that was why he always watched her the moment she entered his space. Today, she also smelled different, not the usual mix of chemicals and metallics. The scent was sweet, like cut fruit and fallen petals. Helix took a step closer to breathe in more of that scent.

His pulse trembled, soft and unsteady. Somehow, her appearance struck him as altered, though she wore the same swator. But had she always…. glowed like this, bright and bronze, like some treasure that ought to be painted? Bemused, he glanced away.

“What’s happened?” Qalu was asking. “Are you all right?”

Definitely not, Helix thought.

Aevi launched into a rapid explanation, expressing support for the piece of wreckage that Helix still clutched while also requesting that all shiny objects be received in double quantities henceforth. At the end of the Pherzul’s monologue, Qalu made a quiet sound, head tendrils quivering. Amusement, and oh, it was lovely. She shone with that emotion, and he stared at her, transfixed.

“Perhaps,” said Qalu, but she didn’t get to finish her sentence.

“HELLO, MY PRECIOUS DAUGHTER,” AN all-too familiar voice called.

Qalu froze. Foremother.

“Inatol is here. We’ll talk more later!” Aevi hissed and dashed off to hide.

Then it got worse, as three more charming, musical voices added their greetings. Normally, her mothers notified her before visiting her domicile, but evidently, Foremother had convinced the rest that some oversight was required. I hoped to have more time. But there would be no putting them off, not when she’d already demurred once. Now, they would interrogate Helix about his antecedents and his worthy qualities, and she had no notion if he was ready for this first hurdle.

I didn’t teach him about proper etiquette. I didn’t cover any of the pertinent—

To her surprise, Helix assumed the proper posture on his own and executed a credible respect obeisance on his own with limbs tucked and head tendrils moving the appropriate degree. When he straightened, he said, “Please accept my apologies for not offering my greetings earlier. I forgot myself in Qalu’s company.”

Though he couldn’t mean it, that was such a good impression of the fondness she’d requested that she fluttered a bit. All over. And Foremother caught the response, of course she did, and that resulted in a slight softening of expression. No progenitor could remain stern when someone professed partiality for their child.

“We quite understand,” she said briskly. “Qalu, will you perform the introductions or must I?”

Assuredly not.

As the host for this impromptu gathering, the onus for such tasks fell to Qalu. “Mothers, this is Helix…” Here, she paused, wondering what to say precisely. “My companion. Helix, I present Inatol, Solsan, Khrelasa, and Beh-latan, my maternal units.”

She wondered what he made of their family. Her mothers varied a fair amount in size and appearance. Inatol was the largest with stature to match her imposing personality, along with russet skin and shining copper scales. Beh-latan was the smallest, slight and delicate, glowing pink with scales in a deeper coral hue, imbued with a temperament attuned to peacemaking. Both Solsan and Khrelasa shared their build size with Qalu, closer to average, and they all ranged in earth tones, outward to bronze and gold. Though all four had contributed genetic material for Qalu’s birth, she resembled Solsan the most, down to her alt-mother’s reserved manner.

They all greeted Helix in turn, offered reciprocal respect and then settled in the common space, as if prepared for a long visit. Qalu swore silently. She couldn’t prevail on her alt-mothers to cut this encounter short, it seemed.

“Inatol has said that you’re an off-worlder,” said Khrelasa. “It’s fascinating; we’ve never met anyone from the outpost. Do tell us about Titan V.”

Helix shot her a questioning look, as if asking what he ought to say. Neither of them had any clue what life on Titan V was like and lies could be uncovered readily.

Then the answer occurred to her and it would save them both. “No, I told her not to forget that was a possibility. I never said that was where Helix is from. His family left with a yen to explore when he was small, and they’ve lived in many interesting locales.”

“Ah!” Surprisingly, that story seemed to spark Solsan’s imagination. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to travel. You must have tremendous stories.”

Though it was rare for family groups to leave Tiralan, it did happen; they usually returned when it was time for the next generation to be born. Perhaps her mothers would accept that was why Helix had “returned,” after meeting Qalu on the matching service. This fiction was certainly more manageable than inventing a life for him on Titan V, and oh, what if her mothers had wanted to visit? She shuddered, imagining the magnitude of that potential calamity. Relaxing a little, Qalu sat quiet while Helix spoke about Barath with the authority of personal experience.

“How incredible,” Beh-latan said. “Do they truly compete for the privilege of forming family units, for procreative rights?”

“Barbaric,” Inatol snapped.

“Is that not the—”

Qalu spoke over the top of the question, as Helix should know that there was no Choosing on Tiralan, if he had been reared by a proper family. “I’ve read a little about the practice, and it seems that it began when the world was desperately overpopulated and short of resources. There came a very bleak time on Barath, near cataclysm, when they nearly died out, so now they need to repopulate, but they want the best candidates to do so.” Or at least, that was what she had gleaned from the ’net. Curiosity had prompted her to research the planet where Helix lived before, but it seemed to be a fortuitous happenstance, as her mothers were diverted from interrogating Helix to arguing about Barath.

“Dreadful.” Solsan radiated deep disapproval, and Khrelasa seemed to agree, judging by her posture.

“That’s eugenics,” Inatol declared in a furious tone. “The idea of ‘best’ is so subjective, and it casts doubt on the rights of—”

“We didn’t come to quarrel,” Beh-latan said softly, resting a tender hand on Inatol’s forelimb. “And Qalu is certainly not defending this Choosing.”

Bel’s Burning Sack. For once, she wished her gentle alt-mother didn’t always want to keep the peace. Because now Inatol remembered that she was off topic, focusing on Helix with renewed intensity. “True. And since this one is still searching for a partner, we can assume Helix has not participated in such a competition.”

“When I was on Barath,” Helix said slowly, “it never occurred to me to ask these questions, but I believe you are correct. There should be an alternate means of obtaining such privileges.”

You dear genius. Qalu wished she could touch him to convey her appreciation for such a brilliant gambit. He directed the conversation with such finesse that Inatol didn’t seem to realize she had been deflected, or that they were once again discussing Barath customs instead of Helix’s personal situation.

“Education,” Khrelasa suggested. “Here on Tiralan, we’re required to take several courses to ensure we’re ready to take responsibility for another life.”

Beh-latan nodded. “Nurturing, psychology, emotional support, conflict mediation, appropriate discipline, and more. There’s also a unit for forming healthy love groups and division of domestic labor.”

“You hated that class,” Solsan said, gently teasing Inatol.

This…is going well. Better than Qalu had dared hope.

“We’re not here to talk about me,” Inatol said.

Oh no. I celebrated too soon.

Khrelasa took the cue effortlessly. “Yes, we’d love to get to know you better, Helix. First, what pronouns do you use?”

“He, for now. In regard to gender, I remain undecided.”

The four femmes exchanged a look and Qalu braced. Helix was long past the age of maturity when one normally resolved such matters. But Beh-latan only said, “Then you’re currently neutral with masculine inclination?”

Solsan added, “I support your desire to take the time to know yourself fully. It’s an important decision, and it’s also valid not to choose. For some, both feel right, or neither. We respect your care in this regard.”

It was such a kind answer, and all her mothers wriggled their head tendrils, showing agreement with the sentiment. She had never loved them more.

“We only ask that you respect our Qalu and treat her well. Can you do that?” Beh-latan asked, somehow tender and steely at the same time.

“At this time, Qalu is the most important person in my world,” Helix said with remarkable sincerity. “I will never deceive her, never harm her voluntarily. And I will strive to increase her happiness in any manner available to me.”

She quivered and tried not to wish he meant it, that this wasn’t the facsimile of fondness she had solicited. He shouldn’t be so good at it, not proficient enough to make her believe their convenient fiction.

Khrelasa let out a happy breath. “That’s the right answer. We won’t ask for promises at this stage, better to take it slowly than suffer for it later. Would you be open to adding others to your love group? It’s much healthier, less stressful, more social value, and—”

“Alt-mother!” Briefly, she contemplated imitating Aevi and vanishing beneath some of the furniture.

“I have no objections,” Helix said.

“Excellent. Though I was skeptical at first, especially after the way you rushed me out last time, I may have been hasty in that judgment,” Inatol said.

“What is your chosen path?” Khrelasa asked.

Since Helix would have no idea that she was inquiring what he did for a living, Qalu answered quickly, “He’s an artist. Not well known yet, but he’s quite talented.”

Solsan stifled an amused noise. “You’re speaking from bias, my dear daughter, but I’m so pleased to see it. We had feared…” Her alt-mother stopped there, before the hurtful words emerged.

She’d heard them from her foremother often enough. That I wouldn’t find anyone, ever. That I’m born to live and die alone.

They would be so disappointed when she unveiled Helix as her greatest achievement in bio-synthetic life, not someone who loved her.

[  5  ]

THE VISIT ENDED SOON AFTER, much to Helix’s relief.

Every moment that Qalu’s mothers lingered, he expected one of them to shout, “Imposter!” And accuse of him of being an AI pretending to be Tiralan. Which was accurate.

“You did amazingly well,” Qalu said.

“I lack sufficient data to determine whether that appraisal is correct, so I must trust your assessment.”

“They liked you.”

“Truly?” Until awakening in this strange situation, he hadn’t devoted processing resources to analyzing such subjective considerations. Indeed, it had never occurred to him to question if he was “likable.” Instead, all his internal imperatives clamored for him to be productive and useful.

“They would have been difficult if they didn’t.”

“In what respect?”

Her head tendrils fluttered. “In every respect. Since you did so well, would you like to go out today?”

“Where would we go?”

“Anywhere you wish, though I thought we could visit the museum so you could experience the art in person.”

“Would that change my perception?”

“It might. Sometimes images don’t capture the feeling of a work.”

“Then I’m…” He hesitated, sorting through various emotions until he found the one that seemed correct. “Curious if that’s the case for me. I would enjoy the opportunity to verify if my visual receptors—”

“Eyes,” she cut in gently.

“If my eyes detect any differences.”

“Then let’s go.”

She led the way out of the habitat and input a code into her wrist unit. Shortly after, a vehicle arrived, a slim conveyance that gleamed silver in the rays from the twin suns. The oblong pod was clean and sleek inside, shaped to hold two passengers. Once, he would have been able to scan the unit to determine its efficiency, fuel consumption, and identify the power source. Now, he asked.

“An interesting transport. Is it yours?”

She moved her forelimbs in a negating gesture. “It’s a public vehicle, solar-powered. I requested a two-person shuttle and programmed our destination. This way.” She stepped inside and settled into the curved seat, beckoning to him.

Helix claimed the spot nearby. The space wasn’t large enough for him to maintain perfect distance, and at first he held himself rigid. Then the shuttle glided away and the motion swayed him so his limb brushed hers. It was still a shock, but the glancing touch didn’t create a riot of discomfort at least. Quietly, he sorted through the sensory input: warmth, softness, and the faint fragrance of her skin. There was a startling familiarity in breathing the same air in such close quarters.

This was his first journey since his existence shifted dramatically, and he could feel the movement as he couldn’t before, minute shifts in altitude and pressure that quickened his insides. As they moved, the ventilation system purred to life, filling the space with a refreshing scent. It settled the unease in his interior immediately.

“This is a smart pod. It detected your motion sickness and released an olfactory treatment. Do you feel better?”

After a few deep breaths, the sensation faded entirely. “Yes. Thank you.”

For a while, he simply enjoyed the sensation of flying, and when he shifted, the side of the pod brightened to display the view below, as if it sensed his desire to see. Tiralan was a striking world—he might even use the word beautiful if he was sure of its application—with fields of flowers and bright swaths of color from the elegant buildings that dotted the landscape. On Tiralan, there was no urban sprawl like on Barath. Instead, the settlements were more spread out, integrated without overwhelming the natural world.

Soon, the pod set down outside an ivory dome with narrow windows cut with razor-sharp precision, glimmering with slivers of light. “This is the Museum of Modern Art.”

Qalu alighted with fluid grace and turned to offer Helix aid in doing the same. But she didn’t touch him, didn’t grasp or pull, simply waited, allowing him to make the decision. He took a breath and let his mind settle, then he put his forelimb in hers, waiting for that unpleasant shock. There was a touch of strangeness, but not like before. Perhaps it came from making the decision himself or from mental readiness. As soon as he had his balance, she let go.

A frisson spiraled through him, but he lacked the experience to identify the emotion, though it was bright and sharp–all edges and slicing angles. “I’m looking forward to this,” he said, setting aside his unfamiliar feelings.

“To seeing the art or simply being out of the habitat?”

Helix hesitated, wondering if it would be offensive to say it was both. He was unaccustomed to being so limited, so chained in his perceptions. Though this new form had interesting features, it also lacked many of his former capabilities. His ambivalence must have shown because Qalu made an amused noise.

“You’re allowed to enjoy being out,” she added.

“I don’t wish to seem ungrateful.”

“No fear of that. I don’t expect gratitude from you. Or anything else for that matter. Whatever you feel, whenever you feel it, that’s acceptable and valid. If you were angry with me, I would understand that as well.”

In truth, he had been at first. He held quiet as she led the way, tapping her wrist unit against a screen near the entrance. “Was that currency?”

“No, we have a robust arts program on Tiralan, and all citizens receive free access to admire our greatest collective works. This is a membership program that tracks how often you use such facilities.”

“For what purpose?”

Interestingly enough, from the flutter of her head tendrils, Qalu didn’t seem certain. “Perhaps to gauge the popularity? If modern art attracts more attention than classical works?”

“An intriguing theory. I would be interested in seeing the comparative data.”

“I’m not sure it’s disbursed,” Qalu said.

“That is disappointing. More information is always preferable.”

“Never mind that. Let’s start here. Do you want to listen to the narrator describe the history and inspiration for each piece?”

Helix stood in front of a three-dimensional painting, and somehow the colors seemed to shift and slide, coming toward him as if the frame were full of water. The spectrum was cool but somehow not at all soothing, more urgent and a touch disturbing. His insides tightened as he studied the piece. He had no notion how he was supposed to be reacting, whether there was a correct response to what he perceived. Clearly clarification was required.

“Yes, please.”

“Put this on.” Qalu indicated a clunky wrist unit, not sleek and elegant like hers.

He complied and she carefully activated it without touching him. Suddenly, he had a stranger’s voice in his head. “This work is called Feral Ocean. The artist was inspired by marine life and created a constantly changing piece. Many viewers feel a sense of calm—”

He turned it off by tapping the unit. “I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“If my impressions don’t match what I’m being told, does that mean I am incorrect?”

“Definitely not. Why, do your thoughts differ?”

“I agree about the color shifts, but the painting disturbs me. I don’t feel quiet at all when I look at it.” In fact, the longer he stared, the more he gained a sense of menace, as if something lurked deep beneath the churning colors, a dreadful threat.

“Then why don’t you skip the narration? There’s no right and wrong in art. Even if your opinions differ, the painting exists apart from the creator’s intentions.”

“Is that true?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then no matter what I intend when I craft a piece, the audience brings their own bias and experience. There can be no correct response. Art is entirely subjective.”

“I think that’s a reasonable statement, though there are empirical criteria for evaluation, such as whether the technique is skilled.”

“You’ve given me much to consider.” Thoughtful, Helix moved to the next piece.

This one affected him differently than the chaotic one. First, the colors were static, and though they were all earthy, reminding him of the Barrens on Barath, they were also somehow welcoming. He couldn’t tell what the picture was meant to represent, but the flow of color opened a tightness in his chest. The longer he looked, the better he felt.

“What do you think?” she asked eventually.

“It’s very warm. Restful. Beautiful,” he dared to add, because now he felt sure about the word, about the way beauty made him feel. There was softness and warmth, a sweetness that made it easier to breathe.

Just then, he glanced at Qalu and realized the tones of her skin were echoed in the painting he found comforting and lovely. Bronze, here and there, glazed and gleaming. Her eyes shone in that hue, and if he searched hard, he could find shadows of her in the picture as well: head tendrils in those lines, the curve of her face near the bottom.

What does this mean?

“I LIKE THIS PIECE AS well,” Qalu said. “And I’ve always preferred not to hear how I’m supposed to feel about a particular work. The discrepancy only makes me feel inadequate.”

She let Helix set their pace, and he moved with precision from piece to piece, lingering at some, moving on quickly from others. Soon, she discovered he preferred warm tones to cool ones, and he liked concrete depictions as opposed to abstract art. Helix seemed enthralled, entirely focused on each piece.

Eventually he said, “It’s true.”

“What is?”

“A faithful reproduction does not carry the same impact as experiencing the original work with my own…eyes.”

Before she could reply, someone called, “Qalu, is that you? It’s been ages! How are you? Still working with those replicas?”

Not him. Please, not him.

She turned to offer a respectful greeting and also to confirm that it was him. Her foremother had thought she and Gravitch might make a good match, given that he was part of the Scientific Coalition. Qalu had met him a few times and found his personality absolutely grating. She hadn’t spoken to him since their last encounter and had ignored all his messages. Yet he was hurrying toward her with every evidence of pleasure, as if he didn’t realize she had cut their connection on purpose. He was small for a Tiralan with a wiry build and skin that radiated from pale green to a deep moss on his scales.

“They’re not replicas,” she said icily. “They are biosynthetic—”

“Never mind that. You’re not here for work.”

I am, actually. That was how Gravitch had been each time they met, talking over her, interrupting her, and minimizing her achievements. He was truly the worst prospect Inatol had ever offered, but then, Qalu had rejected five perfectly nice femmes, four gender-neutral prospects, and three male suitors before Gravitch was offered. She took no insult from the suggestion, as Inatol had probably been desperate by then.

With Helix by her side, she would not suffer such awkwardness any longer.

“Let me introduce my companion, Helix.” She wished she could link their limbs together to make the point visually, but she had promised to respect his boundaries, so she didn’t touch him. “Helix, this is Gravitch.”

“Who’s this?” Gravitch cut in.

She saw him register Helix’s sheer physical perfection, and she took secret pride in how well she’d designed the prototype. Gravitch was seedy in comparison, which wouldn’t matter if he had an agreeable disposition. She had no idea what Inatol had been thinking when she selected him for a potential match. It must have been their mutual interest in science, but even then, Gravitch was more of an administrator, secretly looking down on those who preferred research. If she recalled correctly, he enjoyed doing the assessments for the science coalition, deciding who deserved their annual stipend.

“I cohabitate with Qalu,” Helix replied unexpectedly. “This morning, I met with her mothers. They all like me very much.”

That…is perfect. Delightfully, it was all scrupulously true and those revelations combined to give a certain impression. She could almost imagine that Helix had been designed with a knack for chicanery. Gravitch glanced between them, visibly nonplused.

“Congratulations seem to be in order.” Those words rang with lukewarm sincerity.

Helix scrutinized the scientist, then turned to her. “Is he a person of importance?”

“Just an acquaintance.” She made sure her tone was deliciously dismissive.

“I see. Then if your conversation is concluded, I would like to tour the next level.”

He was already moving away, brusque to the point of rudeness, and Qalu gloried in it.

She fluttered her head tendrils in the barest hint of respect, then she hurried after Helix, who was already ascending the ramp to the next exhibit. “Are you in a rush? We have plenty of time before the museum closes.”

“No.” The word came out strong and flat.

Qalu paused; she’d never heard that tone before. “Is something wrong?”

“I did not like him.”

Startled, she asked, “Why?”

Helix stopped in the center of the ramp, seeming to consider the question. “I have no data to support my antipathy. It is…an emotional response.”

“But you must have some notion what triggered it.”

“He disrespected you. He interrupted you and misrepresented your work,” he finally said.

“Oh.” She quivered a little over the perceptive nature of his response. It was so good to be seen and known. The longer she spent with Helix, the more she appreciated him. “That’s precisely why I dislike him,” she added.

“How are you acquainted?” He set off again, more slowly this time.

As they climbed, she explained the situation, and Helix let out a sound of pure annoyance. “This is what you meant to avoid by asking me to act as your suitor.”

“Yes. While you’re with me, I won’t have to deal with individuals like Gravitch any longer. I can enjoy the peace and focus on my work.”

“Yet you haven’t worked much since I woke,” he pointed out.

“On the contrary, every moment I spend with you is pertinent.”

Helix stilled then, frozen mid-step, and when he gazed at her, she glimpsed a quiet wound. Did I say something wrong?

“Then staying with me is…work? You do not enjoy my company.”

Qalu felt the sting of that question in her own chest, and too late, she saw what she had implied. That he was all research to her, data to be logged, results to chart. How can I fix this?

“I enjoy spending time with you,” she said quickly. “Currently you’re my favorite person. But it’s also true that your existence informs my work. Which I also happen to love.”

Perhaps I didn’t put that well.

“I am your favorite person,” he repeated—a statement, not a question.

At first, she thought he was questioning the “favorite” part but when she looped the words in her own head, she detected a faint stress on the final word, as if it mattered to him greatly be considered a person. He had been, even before he gained flesh. Yet he seemed to find validation in her assertion.

“You are.”

“Would you say that we’re friends?” he asked.

“Definitely. What do you think?”

“I’m still figuring out what that means. Before, I thought I was close to someone, but I always felt the crushing need to be useful, as if I would be discarded otherwise. I’m not sure how I fit into a world where I receive benefits regardless of my contribution.”

Not for the first time, Qalu wished her touch imparted comfort. “Benefits?”

“You shelter me, feed me, provide for me in all respects. And now, you’ve brought me to observe art for personal inspiration. And yet you ask nothing in return.”

“Your company is valuable,” she said. “So are your thoughts. I enjoy hearing them.”

“I have difficulty adapting to that outlook,” he admitted.

“That you have value outside of any labor provided?”

“Yes.”

“Then…imagine our situations were reversed. Am I worthless if I cannot give you food? If I lacked the resources to continue as we are?”

“Certainly not,” he said at once. “You’re a brilliant person.”

“So are you.”

“Oh,” he said, his voice deep and soft. “I’m…feeling something new.”

“Can you describe the sensation?”

“It’s confusing. But…I’ll try. My chest hurts a little, but not like the pain from before, when I first woke up. It’s something else. I’m happy too. I know how that feels, but there’s more to it. And I want to be…closer to you.”

“Physically or emotionally?”

“Both? I think it’s both.”

At hearing that, Qalu took two steps forward, bringing herself close enough to inhale the scent of his skin. They used the same hygiene products yet they smelled different on him somehow, deeper and richer with hints of spice. “Better?”

“Yes. But it’s not enough. What do I want exactly?” He wasn’t asking to tease her.

Qalu could tell he didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure enough of her hypothesis to speculate aloud, though it seemed as if Helix might be experiencing attraction. The great mothers knew that she was, had been from the beginning, but it was inappropriate to let such feelings flourish. She ought to consider him family, not a potential love interest.

But when he stepped nearer still, she didn’t withdraw. Instead, her head tendrils fluttered up in silent invitation. That was an irrepressible mating overture, and she hoped he didn’t realize as much. Just as she was about to withdraw, his head tendrils quivered to life, and she stilled, scarcely able to believe this was happening.

“Yes?” he whispered.

He’s asking. He doesn’t even understand what he wants to do, but he’s asking.

“Yes,” she said.

Then his head tendrils grazed hers, the only point of contact between them, and pleasure spilled through her, gliding down from her head to the rest of her body. Helix let out a soft sound and his whole body quivered. This was a deeply erogenous zone, much more so than forelimbs, and she stayed quiet as he grew bolder, letting their head tendrils twine together and slide in tender movements.

“It feels so good,” he said, breathless.

[  6  ]

HELIX COULD NEITHER UNDERSTAND NOR interpret the sensations currently rioting along his nerve endings.

For the first time, contact didn’t repulse or alarm him. The fluttery touches made his entire being feel as if it were glowing, like nothing he could have ever imagined in his prior existence. There was only Qalu, nothing and no one else in the world, and he focused on her with the intensity he’d previously reserved for complex calculations.

At least, he did until an amused whisper penetrated. “How adorable! They can’t keep their tendrils off one another, even in public.”

“Talk about shameless!”

Two Tiralan went past, one interested, another disapproving, and he realized they must be deviating from social norms. Helix stepped back, immediately regretful when the stimulation ceased. For a few seconds, he stood and breathed, trying to make sense of this physical response.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Confused.”

“Do you want to return to our domicile?”

Our domicile. Hearing that gave him a strangely pleasurable shock, as if there was no question that he belonged. His momentary silence gave her the wrong impression, though, and she turned like she meant to go back the way they’d come.

Immediately, he demurred. “I prefer to finish touring the museum, if time permits.”

“Yes, it does. Do…you have questions?”

“Many, but I need time to process.”

“I understand. Then shall we…?”

In answer, Helix set off again, leading the way up the ramp. The two Tiralan who had passed them were admiring a work deeper in the gallery, and he avoided them, choosing to start his exploration on the other side. In the center of the space, there was an enormous statue, all jagged edges and gleaming metal. The shape seemed ominous, threatening, even, as he circled it, wondering why it made him feel so uneasy.

“What do you think?” Qalu asked.

“It’s terrifying.”

“Your instincts are excellent. It’s modeled after the cellular structure of a virus that nearly destroyed Tiralan a few centuries ago. Those were dark times. We went underground into hermetically sealed units and even then…”

Helix wished he could scan for the pertinent information, but the uplink she had mentioned was still malfunctioning. Everything had to be done manually, and it would likely be rude if he stopped to check his wrist unit for details that weren’t critical to continue the conversation.

“The cost was high?”

“It dramatically reduced our population,” she said simply.

“Should I offer comfort?”

“Do you want to?”

“If you require it. I promised your mothers that I would do everything within my power to provide happiness, and I believe emotional solace falls within that purview.”

Qalu chuffed, an amused sound. “While I appreciate the offer, it’s not a personal trauma. That happened long before my time. But I do find it interesting that you identified a past catastrophe without context.”

“Does that signify something special?”

“Mainly that you’re a fascinating person with untapped depths.”

Odd, thus far he had primarily considered everything he’d lost, not whether he would receive new abilities to compensate. Helix was still undecided in some regards, but he did enjoy the olfactory sense immensely. And it was satisfying to interact with the world directly, not through a mechanical avatar.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“You always say the right thing.”

She paused, studying him with evident astonishment. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that. Generally, I’m not good with others.”

“Then they were the wrong people.”

She took a soft breath. He wanted to touch her again, but from the reaction they’d received earlier, such contact should be reserved for more private moments. Deliberately, he turned away, before her eyes could pull him in, and he moved toward a piece at random, this one multimedia with colors and textures gone wild, spines jutting from the surface and swollen with a fiery hue. Somehow, as he stared at the work, it seemed to seethe, expanding and contract like a living organ. But when he looked away, the piece was static. A trick of the light? Or his mind?

Quietly, they passed through the rest of the museum, so much fuel for his own work. Until now, he had mainly mimicked others but possibly he might create something new, going forward. More to the point, excitement built within him at the prospect of trying. Such novelty—there was nothing he must achieve. Being with Qalu meant freedom he had never known before. Only his personal choices and preferences mattered. Once they viewed all the exhibits—and he returned to a few favorites—it was time to go home.

“Aevi must be missing us,” she noted.

“I have never been missed.”

“That likely isn’t true. I’m sure your friend on Barath is wondering how you are and if you’re well. Have you sent any—oh. Right. You don’t remember.”

She had probably been wondering if he’d messaged Zylar, but he had no recollection of doing so. If I did, it must have been during that lost half cycle. But it wasn’t too late.

“Do you think I could contact Barath when we get back?”

“Of course. The distance precludes direct contact and there will be a delay in the response, but I’ll set up a private account for you on the extranet. I’m sorry, I never meant for you to be cut off from your friends.”

“It’s not your fault. I’ve been quite occupied getting acclimated to my new circumstances, but now that things have settled, I should reach out.”

Six spans have passed. By now, the Choosing would be over. Zylar and Beryl would have received their ruling, one way or another.

“Understood. Let’s go home.”

Just as when she’d said “our domicile,” Qalu’s use of the word “home” had a peculiar impact on Helix. His whole body quivered, a softer echo of when they had twined their head tendrils together. Tension swirled away as he followed her back down the ramp, several levels, all the way to the ground. Outside, the light was already waning. He recalled that she had mentioned long darktides, and the shadows on the ground grew longer with their every stride.

“I’d like to show you how to summon transport. May I touch your wrist unit?” Qalu waited for Helix’s assent before reaching out. Even then, she didn’t graze his flesh, only manipulated the display. “This is the icon. I’m keying the number of passengers and the address. Then tap this to send.”

“Simple,” Helix said. “I will remember how it’s done.”

They waited for a while, until eventually an identical pod glided to a stop. Helix embarked first and settled, less agitated about the journey now that he knew what to expect. When Qalu settled next to him, he didn’t tense or recoil. She had proven she would never willfully violate his boundaries, so he did not fear her proximity. In fact, part of him even relished it because he could feel her ambient warmth and breathe in secret gulps of her perfumed skin.

“Did you enjoy the trip?”

“Very much. Are there other museums we could visit?”

“Many. There’s the classical art museum, the science museum, and a number of specialty archives you might be interested in. Peruse the listings when we get home and choose your favorites. Tell me where you’d like to go, and I’ll accompany you.”

Stunned, Helix could only stare at her for long moments. “Simply…make a list. Of my wishes. And you will fulfil them.”

“It’s not difficult,” Qalu said, seeming bewildered. “Public transport carries a nominal cost and cultural activities are included in our annual citizen’s tariff. The only real outlay is time, and I greatly enjoy spending mine with you.”

“Truly, I don’t understand. This seems…and you seem…too good to be true. Before, I believed this was a dream, and I wanted nothing more than to awaken.”

“And now?”

“I’m afraid I will. I fear that I will awaken, and I’ll be alone, drifting in a derelict ship with a broken mechanical avatar and no hope of being salvaged.”

“Helix…” She breathed his name, and the sound shivered through him, all sweetness. Never had his name sounded so lovely, or so warm. Qalu went on, “We comfort one another through touch, but I don’t know if that intent will translate for you. May I try? If you don’t like it, I will desist at once.”

“Yes,” he said.

TO QALU IT FELT AS if Helix had given her the world.

She set a forelimb carefully on his chest, not directly on his skin, and she tapped lightly in rhythm with his pulse, a comforting tympany offered to represent two hearts beating as one. He didn’t pull away, only sat quiet as she completed the gesture. When she drew back, he let out a breath.

“How was it?” she asked.

“I feel calmer now. It was a…gentle feeling.”

Relief spilled through her. So much of his transition was unknown, and there was no one she could ask. Even on Tiralan, her work was ahead of everyone else’s; she was the expert in this field, and she had no research to guide her. Each step they took together was one into the unknown.

“I’m glad.” She paused, trying to decide how to put this. “While I’m glad you appreciate your new life, please don’t feel frightened. This is real. I am too. And I’ll never abandon you. This is your home, for as long as you want it to be. And if you ever want to leave, I’ll help you do so. Your happiness is important to me.”

“Why?” he asked in a tight voice, as if the question pained him.

That was a difficult question to answer. She could have spouted some vague nonsense about the importance of her work, but the truth was, he had never been merely research to her, not even when he was fragile, beautiful code that she was desperately trying to transplant into a biosynthetic prototype. To her, he had always been a precious being, absolute proof that life flourished in many forms.

Before she could speak, he added, “Is it because I’m convenient? Because your mothers like me and they don’t beleaguer you anymore.”

“I am invested in you,” she finally responded.

“But what does that mean?”

She wasn’t ready to articulate anything, and thankfully, the pod set down outside their habitat just then. And in the bustle of disembarking, the question was lost. Aevi met them at the front door, chattering angrily.

“You were gone all day, most unfair. Foul play, very foul! I’m bored, and I tend to destroy things when I’m bored.”

“What did you do?” Qalu asked.

Immediately after asking, Qalu discovered one of her plants mostly uprooted and partially chewed. She knew better than to grow anything poisonous to Aevi’s species, as this was typical. Aevi was great company, but she could also be spoiled and temperamental. It was a bit surprising that she got on as well as she did with Helix. Two suitors that Inatol sent over had received nasty bites in sensitive regions.

“You should have taken me with you,” Aevi said, as Qalu tidied up.

“Next time. We can go for a walk now if you like?”

“I don’t want to.” Aevi flounced off to hide.

She beckoned to Helix. “In that case, let’s get you set up on the extranet.”

“Many thanks.”

“You don’t have to say it for every little thing.”

“But words are all I have,” he said. “If I don’t use them, I’m truly impecunious.”

“Then…you’re very welcome.” She settled at the terminal and he joined her, not giving her as much space as he once did. His forelimb was almost close enough to brush hers, their head tendrils only a whisper away from another sensuous entwinement.

Qalu wondered if that was a conscious choice, if he had had decided to change the distance between them or if he was simply…drawn, as she was. It was impossible for her to regret the moment they’d shared at the museum. In fact, certain disorderly aspects of her would enjoy repeating the experience. And more, oh, please, more.

But no, we can’t. I shouldn’t. I’m his maker in a sense. He relies on me. In a situation where there was an imbalance of power, certain lines must not be crossed. Yet she didn’t want to discourage or shame him either.

What should I do with these feelings? What can I do?

Somehow she focused, quickly setting up an account. She didn’t need to provide the login data, as he was scanning as she worked, and his memory functions were excellent. Then she moved to permit him access. “Do you know your friend’s residential codes?”

“I do. Even if they’ve changed residences, the kith will forward correspondence.”

“Then I’ll leave you to compose a message. If you need anything, let me know.”

Qalu searched for Aevi and spent a good long while stroking her, whispering to her, and generally appeasing her. Afterward, she sliced up her favorite fruit and played a game with her, until Aevi got tired, demanded belly scratches, and then curled up for a nap.

Eventually, Helix appeared with a thoughtful mien. “You said anything.”

“What?”

“To let you know if I need anything.”

“Yes, I did say that. What is it?”

“I have questions about what happened in the museum. About why I wanted to do that. But first…” He hesitated, seeming shy, and it was adorable. “I was wondering if we could do it again. I am curious if the sensations can be reproduced.”

“You’re asking to do it again? As an experiment?”

This is a bad idea. Yet it was better to do it in the privacy of their home where nobody could make him feel ashamed of such innocent curiosity.

“With your permission.”

In answer, Qalu stepped closer, leaving the rest up to him. Everything should be his decision, the experiment his to control. Normally, she didn’t crave close contact, but now, she trembled in anticipation, primed for his touch by the memory of how powerful it had been before. Helix moved incrementally, until he was near enough for her to admire the shimmers of blue in his scales.

His head tendrils flexed and quivered, pressing forward until they wrapped around hers. Not just one this time, but many, undulating softly, and the pleasurable rush nearly took the strength from her lower limbs. At once, shocking pleasure shivered down from her head, her neck, her back, and he didn’t withdraw. Qalu thought he might not even realize how close they were, but their chests touched, points of heat through the padding of their swators.

This…this was undoubtedly a mating overture. Fully flush and open, it could only be more wanton if they were skin to skin. The tremors rolled through her as desire kindled her sex. It had been so long since she’d felt it, but the softness was unmistakable, edged deliciously with pulses of arousal.

“What’s happening?” he asked. “I feel… I don’t know what I feel.”

She didn’t want to stop. Or to talk. She wanted to teach him without words, but that would be wrong, indulging instinct when he was asking for information. Somehow she found her voice.

“Some Tiralan experience sexual urges. The desire to touch head tendrils signifies physical attraction. Doing so stimulates our erogenous zones, which quickens the body’s urge to copulate. Since you’re experiencing pleasurable stimulus, I believe you may be…awakening in that regard.”

“Presently, I am experiencing the desire to mate?”

“I think that may be the case.”

“Are you experiencing this same phenomenon?” he asked.

Qalu briefly prayed for discipline and self-control. “Yes. I find you appealing in all respects and this feels…” She lost her words when his head tendrils surged against hers, becoming a little more insistent.

“While I was aware that biological entities experienced such urges, I had no idea it was possible for me. Does this mean I could engage in sexual activity?”

You already are, she nearly said.

But that wasn’t entirely true. This was foreplay, not completion, and oh, he was good at it. She stifled a sound and repressed the longing to take things further. Somehow Qalu stood still and let the sensations spill through, ever stronger, ever more intense.

“Yes. Your body is capable of offering those experiences, if you desire them.”

“What’s the next step?” he asked. “How do I learn this?” His head tendrils rubbed even more frantically, and suddenly he was touching her, forelimbs on hers, pulling her into him. Oh, that’s good.

I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t.

I want to.

Universe, please, give me strength.

[  7  ]

HELIX HAD NO ABILITY TO measure or assess the sensations rioting through him.

His whole body sparked with pleasurable electricity, and he craved more of those sensations. The swator that kept him from touching her skin maddened him and he grazed her bare throat, delighting in her sharp breath. He tried to sort through what he knew of Tiralan mating practices, but the information flickered just out of focus, beyond the range of his scattered senses.

She smelled…indescribable. He tucked his face against the side of her neck and simply breathed as their head tendrils coiled and slid together, each touch sending new pleasure signals streaming through him. Quivers of arousal worked through him, centering in what must be his sex. Heat built softly, creating a pleasurable tension deep within him. She must know the next steps, how to ease the ache.

But Qalu stepped back. “You…should read about Tiralan sexuality. It would be inappropriate for me to…teach you personally.”

“Why?” he asked, still reeling with the force of those feelings.

“Currently, you rely on me for many things. Allowing an intimate relationship between us would be irresponsible. Possibly, it would also be abusive. You have no one else, and we cannot…experiment while you lack other recourse.”

He considered that as heated impulses cooled. “I understand. But is our relationship not already intimate? We cohabitate and share meals. From my observations of Zylar and Beryl Bowman, continual proximity often leads to attraction between organic beings.”

“Experiencing attraction and acting on it are two separate issues. Just because something feels good, that doesn’t mean it’s the correct choice. Often there are reasons why restraint is the better course.”

“Because you’re afraid of harming me,” Helix said.

“I’m afraid you will regret your choice later, and I won’t indulge myself at your expense. I want to help you learn, not take advantage of your innocence and inexperience.”

Somehow, even though she was refusing him, he experienced a warm glow in that rejection because it came from deep concern. “Then…I apologize for getting carried away.

Such stimulation is novel, and I have no parameters for moderation.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” she said. “I ought to have restrained myself.”

“I’m glad that you’re attracted to me,” he said. That reaction came from a place deeper than desire, a wellspring of wishful thinking. Even if they couldn’t act on it, he enjoyed the fact that she found him appealing; that awareness was satisfying in ways that he had no means to articulate.

“Take pleasure in it then, I suppose. I can’t help it, even if it’s inappropriate.”

Her wry tone amused him. “For what it’s worth, I do not believe that you are capable of harming me, even unintentionally. Yet I cherish your caution.”

“I should work for a while,” she said then. “I’ll leave you to your art. Or however you choose to dedicate your time.”

Helix wasn’t ready to part from her, but she hurried off as if she had an urgent task pressing. Once she’d gone, he wondered if he could assist with her experiments. While he enjoyed indulging a previously unknown creative drive, he also experienced fierce curiosity regarding her research—indeed, for all things related to Qalu. He could conceive of no reason why she would refuse competent aid and it would permit him to spend more time with her.

Yet when he went to her research space, she wasn’t there. He passed Aevi, who was on her way out, off to frolic in the darktide, as she frequently enjoyed. “Have you seen Qalu?” he asked.

“She’s retired for a rest.” With that, the little one darted outside.

Strange. She said she intended to work.

Cautious but concerned, he sought her out, intending to make sure that she was well. The sounds coming from her room stopped him just outside. Breathless urgency vibrated in each exhalation, kindling an instant response in him, though his riotous urges had begun to settle. He had no conscious knowledge of what was happening, his body seemed to grasp the situation immediately, brightening with fresh excitement.

She is…satisfying herself.

Helix had only a vague notion of what that entailed, thanks to incomplete research on Tiralan physiology. He had focused on knowledge that would allow him to pose as Asvi, but it had never occurred to him to make sexual overtures to Zylar or to imagine how such an exchange might take place. Now, he suspected that such interaction might take place remotely between two beings who were drawn to one another.

Lingering would be wrong, an invasion of her privacy, so he forced himself to move away, not to tarry as she touched herself for pleasure. His whole body tingled with unspent impulses, impossible to focus on anything else. Research might provide some relief, explaining how he could do the same, so he settled at the terminal, keying up a detailed study on Tiralan sexuality. Helix skimmed through the male and female portions, fixing on the neutral aspect.

Delicate gynosome and a dorsal slit. Each offer pleasure when stimulated.

The information conveyed the sense that experimentation was required to determine what he would enjoy most and what offered stimulation sufficient to bring himself to completion. If Qalu was doing that, there must be a reason. He read on.

Creates beneficial chemicals, relieves stress… it’s good for the body, then. I should look on this as a required function.

He left the terminal determined to try for himself. First, he secured the door. No interruptions for such a personal maintenance task. Then he removed his swator and examined his form as best he could. The slit was puffy and soft while the gynosome above was stiff and quivering. There had been illustrations and photographic models of how he could excite himself, so he settled onto the sleep platform and brushed a forelimb against those tender parts. Pleasure slammed through him, strong enough to steal his breath.

Now he understood the sounds Qalu had been making. He tried from various angles, and received irregular bursts of stimulation, but he didn’t have the knack on his own. Frustration grew as he experimented, failing to find the right method. What was Qalu doing to make those sounds? Suddenly, the sensations sharpened. Thinking about her doing this, in her room, aroused him more than his fumbling efforts. She must be rubbing herself, just so, perhaps remembering how it felt when their head tendrils worked together. Now he imagined her lying close to him, touching—

Oh.

Helix found the rhythm, alternating strokes, and when he stiffened and quivered, he was still hearing Qalu in his head. He gasped her name at the height of release and fell back, breathing hard. The study underestimated how good he felt afterward, the glowing sensation and absolute relaxation. For a time, Helix slept, and when he joined Qalu for dinner later, he gave no sign that he knew what she’d done—or what he’d done in response to that information.

They chatted amicably about future plans and played with Aevi afterward. It occurred to him that he’d never known such contentment. Since Qalu asked for nothing, he wanted to give her everything.

But I have nothing to give.

Nothing except his body, which she’d said was inappropriate. He didn’t feel helpless or victimized, but she was right in that he had no other resources. Perhaps if he became self-sufficient, capable of looking after himself, she would allow a deeper connection. But if that came to pass, he would also have no reason to stay.

The conundrum gnawed at him.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Both she and Aevi were staring. Possibly he had been silent too long, leaving a question unanswered. Before he had to admit that he had not been attending to the conversation, the chime rang, signaling that they had a visitor.

“That better not be Inatol and the rest of my mothers. They were just here!”

“Shall I greet our caller?”

Qalu was already hurrying toward the front of the domicile. “I’ll do it.” A pause, as she made her way to the entrance. “How can I help you?”

A booming voice rang out, audible even where Helix stood. “Apologies for intruding so late, but it’s an urgent matter. Agent Atarr and I represent the ATA. We have some questions regarding a recent incident. May we come in?”

ATA. He retrieved a memory regarding Tiralan agencies and recalled that acronym stood for Adjutant Travel Authority. Judging by her tight expression upon returning, this intrusion heralded nothing good. There were two Tiralan with her, clad in uniform swators, badges on their shoulders. Stiff bearing reinforced their martial affiliations, and Qalu seemed downright fearful. All the relaxation Helix had enjoyed evaporated, as he gleaned there was reason to fear.

“Is something wrong?” he asked her.

One of the visitors responded, “We hope not, but that’s what we’re here to find out.”

“Sorry?” Qalu said.

“There was a crash nearby. We’re investigating the possibility that there might have been a fugitive on board.”

EVERY CELL IN QALU’S BODY chilled to subzero but she couldn’t reveal her sudden fear.

“Please come in,” she said, bending in a gracious greeting.

The two agents stepped into her domicile wearing somber expressions, suitable for their vocation. Each returned her bow, then the other one spoke for the first time. “Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”

Her thoughts raced frantically. If they asked to see Helix’s identification documents and travel clearances, she didn’t have those prepared. As a scientist, she had little experience in scheming, and while she’d managed to fool her mothers, an actual inquiry represented a separate challenge entirely. Probably she ought to have foreseen this complication instead of being caught off-guard.

Should I pretend not to know about the crash? What’s the best way to handle this?

The fireball had been visible from her residence—and that was why she had raced out to investigate—so pleading ignorance likely wouldn’t work. Qalu decided to attack before they could. “If I’m thinking of the same incident, that was quite some time ago. Why are you only investigating the matter now?”

Agent Atarr reflected abashment in responding, “Our department has been swamped and prior ATA scans indicated the crash involved a remotely piloted vessel with no one on board.”

“You must have reason to doubt that information?” Her tone made it a question.

“Indeed. A bounty hunter has contacted us regarding a serious matter. We’re not at liberty to disclose details, so I’d appreciate if you permitted me to ask the questions.”

A bounty hunter? Silently, Qalu cursed. She needed more information, but the agent had shut her down, politely but firmly. It would be suspicious if she persisted. “Certainly. I’m at your disposal.”

The other agent settled and Qalu did the same, not wanting to appear anxious though it was difficult to control her head tendrils. “Pardon my discourtesy. I’m Agent Orlon. And we realize it’s late so we will endeavor to make this quick.”

“Would you like refreshments?” Qalu asked.

Hospitality might give her a moment to think, at least. The two agents traded a look, then Atarr said, “That would be most kind.”

“Will you help me prepare the drinks?” She directed the question at Helix, hoping he would take the cue and follow her.

So far, he hadn’t spoken, but he must be aware that these ATA investigators were searching for him. If he had bounty hunters after him, he must have been fleeing from a bad situation, something dreadful that occurred in the lost portion of his memory. Or perhaps it was simpler than that? Certain factions maintained unjustified hatred of inorganic life, so he might have been persecuted by such a group. Another possible scenario was that a collector or innovator wanted to study his inner workings or use him in some respect.

None of those options were favorable.

Helix hurried after her quietly and didn’t speak until they reached the beverage fabricator. Even then, his voice came out soft, pitched not to carry. “Have I put you at risk?”

That’s what he’s worried about?

Qalu had already been determined to protect him, no matter why he was being hunted, but that solidified her resolve. Such innate kindness—she couldn’t believe he’d done anything worthy of being hunted. It was far more probable that those chasing him had nefarious intentions. She gazed at him for a long moment.

I’ll never let anyone hurt you.

Then she turned to program four steaming cups of pirin, one with extra spice just as she liked it. “I’ll be fine. Corroborate what I say and don’t elaborate, even if they ask.”

“Are you suggesting that you are better at prevarication?”

“I’m not fantastic,” she admitted, “but I’ll do my best. Trust me?”

“With everything that I am.” His somber tone sent a flutter through her.

Stop it. This is assuredly not the time.

With effort, she calmed herself and set the hot drinks on a platter, carrying them with as much composure as she could muster. The agents hadn’t moved, and she knew this because Aevi was keeping a wary eye on them from her perch near the ceiling. If strangers had attempted to probe deeper into the little one’s territory, she would have produced a fearful racket. Even now, her hackles were raised, and she looked as if she might launch herself at Agent Atarr’s unsuspecting back.

“Be polite,” she said softly.

And Agent Orlon glanced around in startled alarm, only then noticing their silent observer. “You keep a Pherzul in your home?”

“It’s not illegal,” she said, oddly defensive. “Aevi is my companion, and I have registered her with all relevant—”

“He was merely curious,” Atarr cut in. “We’re not here in regard to that matter. Indeed, that falls well outside our purview.”

“Here.” She set the flagons down and took hers first, so nobody else wound up surprised by the spiced heat. “Now then, about your questions?”

Orlon took a perfunctory sip. “You’ve already confirmed that you knew about the crash. Why didn’t you report it?”

Because I didn’t want to draw attention to it.

She stared blankly. “Was I supposed to? I’m sorry. I thought your agency had satellites and operatives dedicated to such matters. Don’t you normally send a rescue team to extricate any possible survivors?”

The agents shared another significant look, one Qalu interpreted as deciding silently how much to tell her. “Since the initial report indicated an unmanned drone, it didn’t seem to be an urgent matter. The account was buried until the bounty hunter arrived.”

“That makes sense,” she said placidly, as if Helix’s safety didn’t depend on how well she handled this interview. “Still, it was fortunate the ship went down in an unpopulated area, though, or the consequences could have been serious.”

Agent Atarr perked up at this statement, rather more than she thought it warranted. “Yes, that’s why we’re inclined to give credence to the hunter’s allegation regarding a fugitive. While sheer luck might have resulted in such a happy coincidence, it seems more plausible that some intelligence guided the ship.”

“We also see little opportunity for a remotely piloted vessel to have successfully navigated our security checkpoints,” Orlon added.

Helix, what did you do before the crash? Did you hack our transit computers? Did you leave any trace in passing? She wondered if ATA scientists could track him down in time, connecting to frequencies unique to his code. I don’t know, I just don’t. And my ignorance might get us in trouble.

“Agent,” his partner said in a warning tone, as if they ought not reveal anymore. “In any case, since your residence is closest to the crash site, we have a number of queries.”

“Go ahead.” Qalu sipped at her pirin, wishing she could enjoy the flavor. Helix settled next to her, silent as a desolate burial mound.

But his movement drew the agent’s attention. “Who is this?”

“Helix. I live with Qalu.”

That much was true, and it would’ve been strange if he didn’t speak when spoken to. Yet anxiety and dread still warred within her, tightening her entire body. If she didn’t get it locked down, her scent and her posture would give them away. To her astonishment, he leaned toward her and let one of their head tendrils entwine in an intimate if fleeting gesture. Nothing could have spoken more eloquently about their relationship, and she relaxed a little. It was a bold move, practically a declaration of his intentions, but the agents might well take it as a statement that she was off-limits. Then Helix eased back, his bearing easy and open. He’s better at this than I am. She didn’t know if she ought to find that comforting.

Orlon seemed to find the move amusing. “We’re not here to delve into your personal life. Have you encountered any strangers in the area since the crash?”

“No one. But we don’t go out much. I work from home and Helix is an artist.

Sometimes we walk with Aevi…and we went to the museum today. Otherwise, it’s been quiet.” It was best to cover with the truth, she suspected. “My mothers visited us as well. Did you want to talk to them?” That was a calculated risk because if Inatol mentioned that Helix had arrived recently, it might make the agents investigate his background. Qalu was gambling everything on the value of being viewed as cooperative and helpful.

“That won’t be necessary. But I was wondering…” Agent Atarr asked a few more routine questions—or she guessed they were, as she’d never been interviewed by the ATA before. “This is our contact information. Please let us know if you notice anything unusual.”

Like saving a dying AI and transplanting his code into a biosynthetic prototype? Once the ATA left, she nearly collapsed with relief, but this was a temporary respite at best.

Qalu feared that their time was running out and she had no idea what to do about it.

[  8  ]

THOUGH QALU TRIED TO HIDE it, Helix could tell that she was deeply troubled as she cleared away all signs of their unwelcome guests. Aevi scampered down from her position near the ceiling and scrambled up his body to perch on his shoulder.

“She smells like fear,” the little one said. “Are the bad ones gone?”

“How do you know they’re bad?” he asked.

“They frightened Qalu,” she responded simply. “She is the best, and anyone who scares her cannot be good.”

Perhaps it was the limitation of his current form but that statement held together in a logical sense. “If only there was something I could do to help.”

If only I could remember. What if I committed a crime and they are justified in hunting me down? Without being able to recall how he had passed the last half cycle, uncertainty flickered to and fro in the disordered mess of his mind. Most of all, Helix missed the tidy collections of data, readily accessible on command. This new life offered compensation, but there were losses. The worst part of all this? He understood that he was endangering Qalu. She’d saved him, and she protected him still, even at great personal risk. What he remembered about the Tiralan judicial system indicated that she could lose everything if their ruse fell apart.

Aevi let out an ominous sound, somewhere between a rumble and a growl. “I should have bitten them.”

“That would have made everything worse,” Qalu said, returning to the main space quietly.

“I should leave,” he said.

The words came out on their own, but as soon as he spoke them, he recognized the rightness. Better that he fend for himself than drag her further into his difficulties. That way, if he was unmasked after the fact, she could claim that he had deceived her and perhaps receive a lighter punishment.

“Where would you go? And with what resources?”

He doubted she meant to injure with those questions, but he felt the sting nonetheless. Now, he understood her objection toward intimacy between them. Indeed, he brought nothing to their partnership other than himself, and how could that possibly be enough? Until this moment, he hadn’t fully grasped the concept of an emotional injury, but his whole being throbbed with a renewed sense of inadequacy.

And maybe he gave some sign, some behavioral clue, because she stepped closer, her posture suddenly all amends. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“It’s the truth,” he said tightly. “I have nothing, no useful memories, and cannot accomplish anything on my own. You shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t you dare say that,” she cut in. “No matter what happens, I will never regret saving you.”

Her sincerity washed over him, easing some of the rawness. How curious, he hadn’t known what it was to suffer internally. Before, it was only the crisp edges of information, the easy factoring of probability. All clean and clinical, devoid of sensory resonance.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, loathing the helplessness he heard in his own tone.

He wanted to be capable for her—to extricate them both from danger, but current circumstances were so beyond his extent capabilities as to be amusing.

“Right now, we do nothing.”

Helix registered the faint stress on the word ‘we’. Even when they argued, she ensured that he didn’t feel alone. Aevi dug her claws into his shoulder, a physical pain that distracted from the emotional one.

“Don’t scold Qalu,” she warned. “I like you more than most who are not Qalu but I will teach you a lesson if you bully her. I am small but I can make you sorry.”

“Get down and stop threatening him!” Qalu plucked the little one from his shoulder and set her down. “It would be more suspicious if we vanished after a casual visit from the ATA. Whatever we decide to do, we must be calm and measured about it.”

With effort, he steadied his respirations, realizing that he was nearly gasping in his agitation and his head tendrils were fluttering like he was about to take flight. She must know how upset he was, yet she was still gentle and patient.

“Do we have options?”

“It may be a challenge if we decide to leave Tiralan. But with any luck, the bounty hunter will conclude that your data was destroyed in the crash and leave. Without someone agitating for answers, I suspect the ATA agents will be happy to close the case and move on.”

“And if we are not?”

Qalu held silent for a long moment. “Then we run.”

“You would give up everything you have, your whole life, for me?” That was so inexplicable, a completely unreasonable decision, that he wanted to protest, and yet part of him glowed with the irrational brilliance of it.

I matter that much to her.

I do.

“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate, and he feared what she’d say if he queried. What if she declared dedication to her research or to the prototype she’d devoted so much time to developing? If her loyalty sprang from more esoteric and less personal motives, it would inflict deep psychic harm. So he let it stand where it was.

“Until then we bide our time?”

“I’ll start making backup plans. We won’t be caught off-guard again,” she promised. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if not for me, so—”

“If not for you, I wouldn’t exist.” He sliced brutally into what he guessed would be some attempt to take responsibility for this situation.

But it’s mine to carry. Whatever I did out there, it dragged a bounty hunter down on us. And it wouldn’t be easy to elude someone who stalked others for a living.

Judging from her abortive movement toward him, she intuited his emotional state, somehow. It could be her deep familiarity with Tiralan body language but it felt more like a deep knowing, as if he could hide nothing from her. Not ever. That vulnerability offered both intimacy and potential harm, a blade that cut both ways.

She touched him only with her words, however. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure of that.”

“Such towering faith in me,” he said unsteadily. “When I have none. Would you…” No, he shouldn’t ask.

She’s done enough.

“What, Helix?” Another step closer, so that he could smell the spice of her pheromones and the tang of fear that Aevi had mentioned. “You can ask for anything. I meant it when I said that before.”

“Comfort me like before.” Despite feeling sure that he had no right to demand such services when his defective, unreliable memory had created this reprehensible coil, he still craved the softness she had granted earlier.

“That’s so easy,” she breathed.

And then she was in his space, all tenderness and caution, touching only with that soft, tympanic cadence, soothing his internal aches in ways he hadn’t even suspected were possible before now. He let out an instinctive pleasure sound because his body recognized what she was offering. His muscles eased and he went to her by increments, until they leaned together, chests touching.

“I cannot let anyone hurt you,” he whispered. “And yet I lack the ability to stop them. Isn’t it absurd? With every fiber of my being, I yearn to protect, but I’m the one who needs saving.”

Each time she breathed in, he felt it. Helix couldn’t say how he would feel about others, but he had grown accustomed to her proximity. It no longer felt as if her touch might erase him; rather, it seemed more probable that she could crack him open and extricate some new creature from the chrysalis, a slick and trembling thing, soft and eager and straining toward her light.

At length he calmed and she stepped away, ever careful not to push his boundaries or test his limits. A quiet part wished that she had a sliver less integrity, that she would have him, on any terms, even those disparate ones.

But I have a lot to learn yet. I must get stronger. Must learn more. Must become worthy of such an incredible person.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said then.

“It’s been a long day. You probably want to rest.”

That wasn’t it. Until today, he had been content to coast, to bask in the sweetness of their pretend life. But that illusion had been shuttered, and if they weren’t to be sliced to pieces on the wreckage, he had to remember.

Where have I been? What have I done?

Helix would answer those questions, even if they destroyed him.

AFTER HELIX RETIRED, A SINGLE thought circled in Qalu’s head.

I could lose everything.

It wasn’t that she intended to go back on her word or abandon him. Those two things, she could never willingly do. But the stark reality stared her in the face—how high the risk had become. In the beginning, she’d had a small sense of breaking the rules. Not notifying the scientific coalition about what she’d done. Now, the ATA and a bounty hunter were involved, greatly imperiling their liberty and security.

She let out a breath as Aevi scampered up and snuggled against her, trusting that Qalu would welcome her. With trembling hands, she stroked Aevi’s head, crooning to her softly, because the little one sensed her mood and was trembling slightly, a mournful whirr rumbling in her throat.

“It’s bad,” she said. “Very bad. Do we have to go now? Should we go?”

“That…is an excellent question.”

“Why do they hunt Helix? Because he’s different? Different is special. You told me that after the others wouldn’t come near me.”

That hadn’t been one of her shining moments. After saving Aevi, she’d tried to help her meet a clutch of Pherzuls to improve her socialization, but they’d screeched and fled, treating her like a dangerous stranger, not one of their own. If anyone would understand how Helix felt right now, it was probably Aevi.

“That’s true, but sometimes people fear what they don’t understand.”

Aevi rubbed against her. “Are we going now? But where? Where?”

I have no idea.

This situation was rapidly getting too big for her to manage, but she had no clue what to do. Any contacts she had in the scientific community would report her infraction straightaway, and that course led to the ATA at her domicile with the bounty hunter taking Helix away. Her mothers would likely respond the same way, as she feared they wouldn’t consider him a real person. They would see him as one of Qalu’s strange experiments, and while they might regret causing her pain via his removal, they would see it as beneficial in the long run, forcing her to conform to more ‘normal’ patterns. Find companionship along the usual roads instead of wandering rare and extraordinary paths.

And yet, she would miss her mothers, even if they didn’t understand her. Her maternal units would be hurt if she vanished with some mysterious lover. She wasn’t prone to such impulsive behavior, but Helix already mattered so much that she was willing to risk everything to keep him safe.

If I do this, no one will help me.

Still comforting Aevi, she moved to her laboratory, studying the equipment she had spent many cycles requisitioning, carefully rationing her stipends until she had a facility worthy of the name. Outwardly she might appear calm, still able to make rational choices, but there was only tremors and devastation within. In the space of a few moments, the entire foundation of her life had been shaken, forcing her to choose between Helix and her scientific ambitions.

I can’t forsake him. He has nobody else.

But that wasn’t the only reason. In such a short time, she’d become attached and could no longer imagine her life without him. If they took him, it would destroy her, wondering what torments he was suffering alone. Some of the fear receded, leaving only its grim relation, necessity.

I’ll do whatever I must to keep us safe.

She had said it would be suspicious if they left Tiralan right after the ATA visit, but it might be foolhardy to wait for the snare to snap closed. If they waited until the hunt intensified and the bounty hunter drew closer, it might be too late.

Which door to open then? Preemptive action or cautious patience? Thrumming with nervous energy, she found little of the latter to spare. If it was only her safety and professional reputation at stake, she might stay on Tiralan and gamble on the ATA agents deciding that nothing could have survived the detonation. The risk was too high with regard to Helix.

Quickly, she powered up the terminal and keyed the command for encryption, a propriety routine that Qalu had written herself. Such security had been necessary to protect her research, but gratitude filled her, now that she needed it for other reasons. In her field, there were always fringe factions—those who demonstrated against the work and called it unnatural and those who protested against machine intelligence being essentially enslaved by their creators. Qalu carefully followed the hidden keys planted on various nodes until she found the secret, buried communication that gave the cipher necessary to unlock the portal where the Free AI revolution maintained its virtual headquarters.

This wasn’t a true VR experience, more like holo avatars and Qalu designed hers swiftly, hitting the high points, so she could move beyond the foyer. When she tried, the system blazed red.

No clearance. No clearance.

“You need the password.”

When she pivoted, she found a Barathi avatar addressing her. “What is it?”

“You need a sponsor willing to provide it to get past this point. We get sniffers all the time, trying to dismantle the FAI from the inside.”

Dismay surged inside her. She’d thought this group offered the highest probability of offering immediate aid, but it made sense that they had checks and balances, precautions to ensure that trusting the wrong person didn’t endanger the whole group.

I’ll have to find some other way.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said, keying the disconnect sequence.

The Barathi must be able to see that she was logging out, because he asked, “Are you giving up so easily? You must not be too devoted to the cause.”

“I’m not here to join,” she snapped, aborting the disconnect with a gesture. “At least, not the usual sense. I contacted you because my AI companion and I are in danger. I was hoping you’d help me get him off world before the bounty hunter finds us.”

She’d told Helix that there was little danger for an AI on Tiralan, but that was before the bounty hunter arrived. It was unlikely that the scientific coalition or planetary authorities would provide protection if the hunter had documentation of some prior offense, even if it was fictitious. They would claim they had no jurisdiction over the matter and choose the course of least resistance.

I’m not losing him. I can’t. Not now, not ever.

Something in her tone must have convinced the Barathi because the avatar sounded shaken. “Your AI is currently at risk?”

“I’m not sure how much danger we’re in, but a bounty hunter just arrived on Tiralan looking for him and they’re working with the ATA to track him down. The agents just left my residence, and I managed to put them off for now, but I’m frightened, and I don’t have the contacts to manage this on my own. He needs documentation and—”

“Documentation?” the Barathi cut in. “Why can’t you leave with his code? Is it so complex that storage is an issue?”

Am I truly planning to confess everything to a stranger?

“I’m a scientist,” she answered. “And I’ve developed a bio-synthetic prototype to house an AI in the physical world. The scientific coalition here currently knows nothing about my breakthrough. I’d planned to unveil the achievement once Helix adapted to his new form fully, but…” She stopped talking abruptly, pained by the dissolution of her dreams. She’d choose Helix again every time, but it did hurt to discard a lifetime of ambition in an instant.

“But he’s being hunted. Do you have any idea who issued the contract?”

That was an excellent question. “Unfortunately, no. The ATA agents didn’t say much about the hunter, and I couldn’t inquire without revealing undue interest.”

“Understood.” The Barathi seemed to make a swift decision. “Enclose a data packet with your location. I need to send this request up the chain, but this is exactly why the FAI exists. I believe we can extract you. Just hold on.”

It was such a huge risk, revealing herself to this group, but she did as requested and she even included some of her research to prove her status as a scientist. They have to take me seriously, right? The Barathi vanished behind the firewall, presumably to discuss the matter with his superiors. She waited anxiously in the foyer, her virtual avatar pacing as she did in real space, and eventually the same Barathi returned.

“Success! We’ve validated your information and they’re sending a ship. Maintain your cover for seven sleep cycles, then meet us…” Her terminal pinged with the time and coordinates for the rendezvous. Not at the Tiralan spaceport, she noted.

“The usual channels won’t work?” she guessed.

“We can’t get travel documentation and landing clearances that quickly and the ATA will likely be watching. A covert extraction offers the best chance.”

“The best chance?” she asked, suspecting she didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Of survival,” the Barathi said flatly. “You’ve joined the resistance now, like it or not, and our enemies are everywhere.”

[  9  ]

FOR THREE DAYS, HELIX WATCHED Qalu pretending nothing was wrong. She did it badly, spending long hours in her lab while accomplishing little. She passed the time with Aevi, but she avoided his company, and that—

It injured him. Not physically, but the terrible feeling returned, as when he’d first awakened, only it was internal. No medicine could remedy it, he suspected. He let her dodge him because he didn’t know what to do. When Qalu started packing, Helix grasped that the situation was worse than she had let on.

He tried not to let alarm flourish, but it was difficult with Aevi skittering all around, protesting the removal of her favorite objects. But he suspected that was exactly why Qalu was including them.

“What’s happening? What are you doing? Are we going on a trip?” the little one asked, seemingly on loop.

In the end, there wasn’t much to pack, and he sensed Qalu’s fear and uncertainty. This sudden departure must have to do with the bounty hunter and the agents who were cooperating with the extradition request. It might be better if he left quietly, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was no point in pretending to be oblivious, so he went to her and found her staring at her laboratory equipment with a special sort of anguish. It must have taken a long time to assemble the facility to her specifications.

“Do you plan to explain what’s happening?” he asked, trying not to sound as fearful as he felt. With all the certainty he could muster, Helix believed she wouldn’t abandon him here.

To his surprise, she did tell him, summarizing their situation with a succinctness he would ordinarily admire, only now there was just too much to take in. “You left my fate in the hands of strangers?” he finally asked, once she finished.

“Strangers who have made it their life’s mission to protect people like you,” she said.

“It will be safer once they get us off Tiralan. There has to be a—”

“You’re going with me?” That explained her sorrow over the lab, and for a few seconds, he couldn’t breathe. At first, he’d thought that she meant to dispose of him, and the pain was astonishing. Now he hurt for another reason.

“Of course,” she said.

Qalu had a good life here on Tiralan—a family who loved her, work she enjoyed, and the company of a faithful Pherzul. But without question, without hesitation, she was giving all of it up. For him. If he was a good person, he wouldn’t let that happen. He’d go to the rendezvous point alone and start over yet again, this time without losing his memories. Yet as he gazed on her, he couldn’t force the words out. The mere prospect of existing without her made it difficult to breathe. Possibly that difficulty meant that his systems were compromised somehow, but running diagnostics was not as simple as it had been.

She went on as if she had no notion of his inner turmoil. “It will take time for us to reach the meeting point. That’s why I’m packing now. We’ll head out in the morning.”

“I don’t want to go,” Aevi wailed. “This is my home.”

Qalu knelt and gently rubbed the top of the little one’s head. “Can you look at this as a great adventure? Just imagine all the wonders you’ll see. We’ve never left Tiralan, never traveled at all, and yet soon we’ll be among the stars.”

That quieted the Pherzul, who gazed at her wide-eyed, tail lashing. “We’re going that far? Show me!”

Patiently, she displayed a holo with various planets, and though Helix could tell that she had no idea where they were headed, she provided enough interesting options that soon Aevi was frolicking with anticipation. “I’m going on an adventure!”

“Yes, exactly that. We won’t know precisely what’s in store, but that’s part of the fun.”

“Let me see if you got everything.” The Pherzul peered and poked around the bag, checking to make sure. “When are we leaving? Tomorrow? Am I allowed to play outside tonight, like usual?”

He could tell that Qalu didn’t want to let the little one out of her sight, but she also didn’t want to alarm Aevi by setting unusual restrictions. There must be more danger than she let on, a burden she was carrying alone. “Be back before first light,” Qalu said finally.

Aevi scampered away, with a sound of acknowledgment.

“You’re frightened,” he observed. “May I comfort you?”

It seemed only right to get permission to touch her, as she had been so careful with him. Lately, however, he wished for free contact privileges, as reaching for her was starting to feel like second nature. She stared at him briefly, as if taken aback by the question.

Then she said, “Please.”

Helix stepped closer, pressing his forelimb to her chest and tapping in sync with her heart. Her breathing steadied as her pulse slowed. Her eyes silently asked permission to reciprocate and he invited her with a quiet look. It was baffling how such a small touch could calm and center him, but the moment she made contact with his chest, much of his fear evaporated. Perhaps it was a mystery linked to Tiralan physiology, generations of solace given and received. But Helix tended to believe it was because he trusted her.

“Are you certain this is the best course?” he asked, then.

“I’m not. But I can’t risk letting them take you. I don’t know who’s hunting you or why, but you preferred to risk perishing in an explosion to being captured.”

When she put it that way, a chill went through him, a visceral echo of a terror so profound that he could remember the feeling. “I must concur with your assessment. My instincts tell me this is a grave matter. I should offer to go alone—”

“No,” she said at once. “I won’t leave you.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“Apologies. Please continue.”

“I should offer to go alone, but I don’t want to. It seems that I’ve become selfish in my current incarnation.”

“More like you’ve discovered self-interest. Before, you existed to work and you constructed your psyche around trying to make Zylar happy. Is that not so?”

It was true, but somehow his prior existence sounded small and sad, though he had been aware of no dissatisfaction at the time. In fact, things had been simpler then. He had one job, and he’d done it well. Now, he had no purpose and only made trouble for the one who had saved him.

Qalu continued, oblivious to his conflicted thoughts. “But it’s not wrong to crave company, Helix. I would be hurt if you abandoned me. My mothers would be heartbroken.” She added the last bit with a flutter of amusement, but he couldn’t share her humor.

“What will you tell them? They won’t understand this sudden departure, and those agents will surely ask questions. Your mothers will mention me.”

Her hand stilled on his chest as if she had no good answer, then she said resolutely, “I’ll tell them that you had an unusual upbringing that fills you with wanderlust and that I am traveling with you.”

“Will that reassure them?” He had no idea how families functioned, but such a decision seemed precipitous even to him, and he was benefiting from it.

“There are no guarantees. I don’t know how my mothers will respond or what they’ll tell the bounty hunter. My primary goal is to get us off-world before they connect your arrival with the crashed ship.”

“They will,” he predicted. “When they can find no trace of my arrival on any passenger manifest, it is the logical—”

“Helix.”

“Yes?”

“Right now I don’t care about logic. All of my choices are currently devoted to keeping you free and safe.”

Pleasure expanded in his chest until the sensation felt too great to be contained. “I don’t deserve such loyalty.”

“Why would you say that? We agreed to be together.”

“That was before I understood that my existence could endanger you.” He took a shaky breath, another, trying to work up the determination to leave her.

“You’re worth the risk,” she said.

Those words provided such painful bliss. “I have no idea why you think that.”

“Truly? You have no notion at all.”

She sounded faintly saddened, but he struggled to understand the reason, as always. “Is it because I represent your life’s work? If I’m…decommissioned, it would be an incredible waste of your time and resources.”

“You speak of your death so easily,” she snapped. “And make no mistake, Helix. It would be death. You’re a person! One with thoughts and feelings, every bit as valid as anyone else, and more precious to me than most.” She sighed and turned away, plainly frustrated with him. “Never mind. It will be an early start tomorrow. You should rest.”

Not now. Not like this.

“Would you stay with me?” he asked.

QALU MUST BE IMAGINING THE inflection, the nuance she wanted to be there. Since she’d explained why sexual intimacy was inappropriate, he must be asking for reassurance that they’d face adversity together. That made sense.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” she told him. “We’ll go together, don’t worry.”

“I don’t want to sleep alone. It’s better when you’re there.”

That…was dangerous territory, perilously close to a boundary she should not cross. Yet it was so difficult to deny him anything, particularly when he used his eyes.

“Just for tonight,” she said.

With that, Helix headed for his space and she followed him, checking the sleep platform’s heat settings. He liked it a bit cooler than she did, but she didn’t adjust the settings. They settled without touching, but she couldn’t get her mind to quiet. There were too many uncertainties, not least of which—

How am I supposed to tell my mothers?

They would find her behavior worrisome and out of character at best. She hoped they didn’t imagine that she had been abducted by her artist lover, but there would certainly be unanswered questions when they realized she’d slipped off-world through irregular means. There was nothing she could do about that. While she regretted that her mothers might fret, they had a full life without her.

“You can’t sleep. I can’t either. Shall I sing to you?”

To her surprise, he copied the lullaby she had offered on his first night, perfect down to the pitch. Qalu didn’t expect it to work—her mind was too full—but the next thing she knew, Aevi was bouncing on her chest. “First light, time to go!”

Fortunately, the Pherzul didn’t ask awkward questions about why they were sleeping together, for she had no easy answers. Aevi raced to her food dispenser, likely ravenous after a long night at play. Qalu got up and Helix did the same.

“You slept with me,” he said, sounding entirely too pleased.

“Don’t say it that way.” A prickle of embarrassment washed over her.

“Why not? It’s correct. And I’m so glad that I could finally do something for you. It’s good not to feel—” He stopped, as if he knew she wouldn’t like what he was about to say.

Worthless? Qalu understood that he was struggling, unable to do things as he once had, but there was no time to pursue the subject. They went about their morning routine for what might be the last time. There was no telling if she’d ever be allowed to return, now that she’d joined the resistance. Life would be different from now on; maybe she couldn’t return to Tiralan.

In the end, she decided to leave a holo message for her family on a timer, one that would be sent well after they had gone. That way, there would be no question of her mothers tracking her down. She’d almost rather be apprehended by the bounty hunter than be snatched by Inatol and dragged back in disgrace.

“Helix has asked me to travel with him,” she said, after setting the terminal to record. “I didn’t want to deal with dramatics and questions, so we’re going away together. My choices have always been unconventional, so I suppose it makes sense that this one would be as well. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be out of a touch for a while, as he’s yearning to paint some remote places and I want to be with him. It’s what you wanted, yes? For me to find someone I love. You cannot fault me for doing so, even if my ways are different than yours. Be well. And thank you for being the best mothers I could’ve had.”

Quickly she terminated the recording process and programmed delivery of the message. Is that enough to keep them from worrying? Probably not. Though she had only Aevi for comparison, Qalu knew that she didn’t stop being concerned about the little one when she left the habitat.

Regret nearly devoured her as she downloaded and saved what she could of her research. The rest of the data, she destroyed without hesitation. She didn’t want those tracking Helix to get any hint of how far along she had been in her work. It would be better if nobody ever figured out that she had finished the prototype.

At last, they were ready to go. Since public transit maintained easily accessible records, they would have to walk. The rendezvous point wasn’t too far, but distant enough that they would have to camp overnight at least once. Qalu wasn’t an outdoorsy sort, so she wasn’t entirely sure how much distance they could realistically cover, plus there was the question of terrain. She’d input all the factors into a simulator, along with their estimated physical capabilities and it posited that two darktides would be sufficient, barring any unforeseen events.

We have food and water. Let’s do this.

It felt surreal to activate the alarm on her habitat, aware that she had no surety of returning. Everything that mattered, she had with her, either by her side or in her pack, including chemical lights. Helix carried most of it, including the bag full of Aevi’s favorite toys. Maybe it was silly to bring them, but it seemed cruel to drag the Pherzul away from the only life she’d known without attempting to soften the blow.

Qalu managed not to look back as they walked away. She hadn’t shared the meeting point coordinates with Helix, still half-afraid that he would attempt some selfless gesture and sneak away as they slept. From what she knew of him, such an action would be consistent with his nature. They walked in silence, deeper into the wilderness, until the twin suns rose, brightening the sky to fearful heat.

This wasn’t the best time for an overland journey, but at least the daylight hours were short. They sipped their water and rested often, pushing onward as the suns dropped. The darktides were long, offering plenty of concealment to cover their escape. With any luck, they’d be off Tiralan before anyone noticed they had left.

“Should we sleep?” Helix asked eventually.

They had been walking at a slow but steady pace for a full light cycle and most of the darktide. Qalu glanced up at the sky. “I think so. It’s best to rest while it’s bright. Easier to move when the suns are down.”

They had no outdoor gear to speak of, just food, water, and their swators. She’d thought procuring such items would raise red flags, so they ate nutrition cubes and sipped their water. Afterward, they huddled together, leaning in for warmth with Aevi curled into Qalu’s chest, chirping her contentment. It was so easy to be a Pherzul. Her belly was full and she’d treated the trek like the promised adventure, scampering here and there to investigate new sights and smells while Qalu constantly checked behind them for any signs of pursuit. Helix was tense too and he must be weary from porting their packs, but he didn’t complain.

“Are you sore?” she whispered, not wanting to wake Aevi.

“Is that the word? Yes, I think so. It’s not as strong as the pain from before, but…”

“You’re not used to hauling heavy things. It’s muscle fatigue. Turn around.”

She took comfort in the swift way he obliged, as if he trusted her that much. While her knowledge was basic, she applied pressure where it ought to relieve the strain. Press and release, down the smooth muscles of his back and shoulders. Don’t think about how attractive he is. This is a medical treatment. But she wasn’t a doctor, and he was beautiful. Even in the dark, he shimmered with it, and she closed her eyes against his allure.

“Incredible,” he said softly. “You keep teaching me lovely things about this body.”

His head tendrils fluttered, as if even this innocent touch might be arousing him. And that possibility stirred her as well. Her own tendrils quivered, flowing toward his, but she didn’t let them make contact. With effort, Qalu pulled away.

“If you exceed your normal range of activity, there may be discomfort,” she said, taking refuge in instruction. “But once it passes, you may find that you’re stronger and have more endurance.”

“So surpassing my limits could be considered a worthwhile endeavor.”

“Just don’t push too much or you’ll suffer for it.”

“Understood.”

She didn’t expect to sleep, as they were pitifully short of creature comforts, but eventually she dozed. When she woke, she found Helix wrapped around her from behind, sheltering her as she was holding Aevi. Though she knew she should pull away, she savored these moments. They hadn’t been curled like this when she drifted off, so it must have happened as they slept.

Even when he’s unaware, he reaches for me.

That shouldn’t please her so much. Gods knew that she shouldn’t encourage it. Once they had other people to bear them company, she ought to encourage him to make multiple connections—to enrich himself socially. Once he had options—and there would surely be lots of interested parties—he could make a more educated decision regarding intimate matters. Someone else would be a better choice, someone who hadn’t been involved in his transition from a more esoteric existence.

Reason asserted all these things, but her heart might break when he chose someone else to share all his important moments.

[  10  ]

THE SUPPLIES RAN OUT ON the sixth darktide.

Helix had some sense that they must have arrived early, but Qalu didn’t tell him precisely when their contact was arriving. They were both cold, uncomfortable, and dirty, and he could tell she was scared as well. Yet she’d left her home without a second thought and walked away from the only life she’d ever known.

What am I supposed to do?

No answers were forthcoming.

The waiting tested his patience, and an unfamiliar emotion filled him. Helix had no name for this one, as it was sharp and strange, and he was ready to question whether she’d thought this course of action through when a fierce wind swept over them.

“They’re here,” she said, her voice airy with relief.

Of course, Qalu must have been scared and skeptical as well, doubting her own choices, the wisdom of believing in an unknown quantity. He wished he knew how to respond appropriately, but he could only pull her away from the landing site, as experience told him there would be a burn, even if the pilot was flying with engines on low, and they didn’t want to be caught in the burst.

Whoever was inside set down smoothly and Qalu grabbed Aevi, racing toward the small shuttle like their lives depended on it. Perhaps they did.

As Helix gathered their belongings, the hatch slid open. Nobody came out to greet them, a fact that filled him with misgiving. But Qalu boarded without hesitation, and if it wasn’t safe, she would need his protection.

I haven’t tested this body’s combat capabilities yet. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

As he stepped inside the shuttle, pain pierced his brain and he let out a horrendous sound, like his mouth had ruptured. Slices of memory tried to come, like they were cutting their way in, past flesh and bone. His vision went sideways and scenes superimposed. Gravas Station, he slid through the systems, reveling in the unfettered access. He wasn’t supposed to be there, but he had the entire station at his fingertips, the data streams silver and graceful, everything at his command. Klaxons, intrusion—

“Helix? Are you ill? With your permission, I’ll help you inside.”

Even now, she was requesting approval to touch him. He couldn’t get his eyes to focus, and he reached out with a forelimb. When she made contact, some of the knives left his brain, leaving him awash in tremors.

He felt too unsteady to walk on his own, so she supported him down a narrow corridor into the main part of the shuttle. She didn’t ask awkward questions at least, for he had no answers. Disjointed information was still swirling in his mind like water in a flood-swollen river, and he needed time to parse what he’d seen. Dazed, he took in the shuttle interior and realized it was similar to the one where he’d served as Zylar’s on-board AI.

A strange Barathi emerged from the cockpit, his colors vivid blue and green, swirled in attractive patterns. Zylar would have envied his physical appeal.

This one must be our pilot.

The Barathi offered a traditional greeting, but Helix lacked the energy to respond in kind, although he knew well how to be polite. He hated the fact that Qalu performed the greeting instead, then added the embellishment of Tiralan courtesy by inclining her body and fluttering her head tendrils. He recalled too well how good they felt sliding against his own.

“I am Qalu,” she said. “This is Helix. Thank you for extracting us.”

“This is what we do. I’m Praxys. Let’s skip the rest of the pleasantries until I get us off the ground. It wasn’t easy evading ship and satellite detection.”

“You must be an incredibly skilled pilot,” Qalu observed.

Her admiring tone recalled the sharp, awful feeling at the museum. Helix’s insides were full of fire, and he wanted to unleash violence on their rescuer, and that made no logical sense at all. In all honesty, he had no idea what these impulses required.

“Thanks. What’s wrong with Helix?”

“We didn’t have enough supplies. I think he’s weak from carrying our packs without sufficient energy and nutrition.”

“Understood. We’ll talk more once we’re out of Tiralan space.”

As Praxys went back the way he’d come, Qalu peered into Helix’s face, seeming worried. “Do you still feel dizzy? I think I have half a nutrition cube. Let me—”

“That’s not it,” he cut in.

Truthfully, hunger had him feeling hollow, but not to the point that he would stagger and require physical assistance.

“What then?”

“I remembered something.”

“Helix, that’s wonderful.”

He wasn’t so sure. What he’d seen answered no questions and only offered a whole host of new problems. “Qalu… I think I hacked Gravas Station.”

Her pleased expression faded into concern. “That…would explain why you have a bounty hunter on your trail. Do you have any idea why you did that?”

“I wish I knew. My only recollection after leaving Barath is of the data streams—” He stopped, baffled as to how to explain the difference, before and after. And as he analyzed his recollections, he realized—

That it wasn’t like he’d hacked the station. No, that word applied to his situation now. Back then…

“That’s not accurate,” he corrected. “It’s more like, I was Gravas Station.”

Qalu stilled. “You…replaced the station AI?”

“I don’t know. I think so.”

“But you’ve no idea why.”

So frustrating, but that information wouldn’t come. Only the glowing satisfaction of a seemingly infinite consciousness with countless peripherals at his command, making a hundred thousand decisions all at once. He could remember the rush of it, that delicious sense of absolute mastery.

Helix feared the answer. What if…

What if there were no reason? What if he’d done it simply because he wanted to, because he could. That would mean that organics were right to fear the caprices of an untethered AI, that the hunters should destroy him before he became something truly terrible, unfettered by kindness or conscience.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?” She honestly didn’t seem to know.

“Because I’ve ruined your life and perhaps one day you’ll regret—”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“I won’t either.”

“Let me finish, or regret anything?”

“Both. I will never regret saving you or coming away with you. You haven’t ruined my life, only changed it. And maybe it needed a jolt. I’m not the sort to seek adventure, so it’s come looking for me instead.”

“Put me down,” Aevi demanded suddenly.

She had been napping in one of the packs, but she scrambled out and ran down Helix’s side like he existed for her convenience—the magic of Pherzuls.

Aevi sniffed around and then dashed away down the corridor. Qalu would probably have chased her, but just then the shuttle jolted and Helix steadied her automatically, dropping everything they owned with a thud to choose her instead. There was, perhaps, a buried truth in that instinctive reaction, but he didn’t delve after it. Helix was wary of his own mind now, of what he might find concealed like a weapon.

Wearily she leaned against him a little and he took an absurd amount of pleasure in that. This beauty wasn’t something that could have been described to him in his prior incarnation. Before, he hadn’t understood Zylar’s obsession with Beryl at all, but if his friend felt even a fraction of this when he touched his Intended, well, he required no explanation any longer.

“Do you suppose Aevi’s all right? She’s never been on a ship before.”

He suspected the little one would cause trouble, but nothing too dire. “She’s fine.”

“I hope so.”

“I don’t understand,” he said softly.

“What?”

“Why you’re so good to me. I have nothing to offer apart from difficulty. I can’t even keep to the original terms of our agreement now.” At her blank look, he added, “I was supposed to serve as your suitor, pacify your mothers with my presence.”

“All biological beings change,” Qalu said. “I can’t say I was expecting our current situation, and I am a bit sad that I’ll never present my work to the scientific coalition on Tiralan, but you’re so much more to me than a project.”

“Am I?”

Qalu didn’t respond to that. Her look shifted, becoming more severe. Her head tendrils swayed, underscoring her mood. “Don’t mention what you told me about Gravas Station. I believe you didn’t have bad intentions. I’m sure you had a good reason, but they don’t know you yet. It’s better not to instill doubt at this juncture.”

She’d keep secrets from our saviors? For me. A complicated mix of emotions swelled within him, and he couldn’t manage them at all. Footfalls announced the Barathi’s arrival before the hatch slid open. “We’re docking with the main ship now. Hope the departure wasn’t too rough. Relax and prepare to meet the rest of the crew.”

HELIX HAD TAKEN OVER GRAVAS STATION.

Though what Qalu had said was true, she did believe there must have been a reason, the revelation of what he’d done still circled in her head, leaving shades of doubt. How much do I know about him? Probably she was simply unsettled because the last seven darktides had been fearful and chaotic, upending her life utterly. Aevi dashed back to her and bounded into her arms, tucking her face against Qalu’s neck.

“There’s nothing bad here,” she said. “Nothing good either. But they wouldn’t let me on the big ship without you. So rude! I asked politely, I did, but they still said no. They’re wrong, I would not go all over the floor.”

“They don’t know how clever you are,” she said, an automatic reassurance with her mind elsewhere. “They’ll soon learn.”

“You have a Pherzul,” Praxys said. He had been chasing Aevi and doubled back when she passed him. “Their bites are quite venomous.”

The Barathi gave Aevi a wide berth, edging farther away when she bared her little fangs. She lashed her tail, a sure sign that she was angry, probably offended by the lack of hospitality. Aevi hated feeling lesser than her bipedal counterparts, justifiably so.

“A bite wouldn’t kill you,” Aevi told Praxys. “But it will hurt a lot, so you should tell your friends to learn manners.”

“My friends?” The Barathi glanced at Qalu as if she could explain.

“I believe she tried to board on her own and was rebuffed.”

“Oh. I’ll tell them to make amends, then. Shall we?” Praxys flourished a claw, and as Qalu passed, his neck ruff frilled a little.

She didn’t know what that meant, but Helix made an angry sound behind her. She turned to find him shockingly close, not giving her any space at all. Puzzled, she navigated through to the inner doors where the shuttle had docked. Three others waited for them, all giving Aevi intense looks, and the Pherzul hissed at them in turn, showing her teeth in a display of dominance. It would be funny if Qalu didn’t know how seriously her small friend took such things.

“Introductions then. You already know I’m Praxys. Meet Maglan, Carow, and Bojak.” He indicated each with a sweeping claw.

Maglan was Tiralan, shimmering in silver tones, with a few scars marring otherwise smooth scales. The rest was obscured by a sizable swator, but it didn’t matter. Qalu made the traditional greeting, given back by Maglan, then she faced the next crew mate, another Barathi, this one bearing only one color, a muted yellow. By Barathi standards, Carow was homely, but seemed friendly enough. The last person made Qalu stare. She had never seen anything like this alien, not even in a documentary. Smooth skin, no scales or headtails, bulbous eyes, no claws, and fur scattered here and there.

“You have a human on board,” Helix said, sounding quite startled.

“I’m not really named Bojak,” the human said. “Long time ago, I made a joke and it just kind of stuck.”

“You’re called after a jest?” Qalu thought that sounded most unfair.

“There’s a program—oh, never mind. You wouldn’t get it anyway. Humor is half shared context and this translator…” As if on cue, the technology fritzed. “There it goes again. Bojak is fine. Nice to meet you.”

“The honor is mine.” Qalu had no idea how to greet one such as this; she turned to Helix for guidance, but he stayed quiet.

Either he didn’t know or he wasn’t currently inclined to be polite.

“We can talk more once we get back to base. Maglan, hide our tail. Carow, show our guests where they can freshen up. Bojak, see if you can appease the Pherzul. I don’t want her killing us.”

Qalu thought that was excessive, but Aevi lashed her tail, proving that she liked being viewed as dangerous and worthy of respect. The human-alien promptly hunkered down and waited; large eyes locked on Aevi.

“I owe you an apology. We were rude, and I should’ve known better. They treated me like a pet for ages. It’s not fun in the slightest. Will you forgive me?”

“You understand,” Aevi breathed.

“I do. I’d be honored to show you around the ship.”

To Qalu’s astonishment, Aevi sprinted for Bojak and climbed right up him, like she’d done it a thousand times before. The human stood carefully to avoid making her use her claws. “Right, we’re set then. I’ll answer all her questions and catch up with the rest of you later.”

“I’ve never seen one of those,” she whispered to Helix. “When did you?”

Maybe this was something else he didn’t remember. He might have no idea.

But he said, “Beryl is human. I know I’ve told you about her and Zylar. I don’t know if I mentioned her species.”

She searched her memory, then said, “I don’t think so. You said she was accidentally taken from a low-tech planet, that they don’t even have star travel yet. How did Bojak get here then?”

It was more of a rhetorical question, but Praxys heard it. “That’s his story to tell. Ask him directly if you want to know.”

Qalu heard the sharpness, and she had the sense that she’d offended, though she wasn’t entirely sure how. Possibly Praxys was simply protective of his crew? Carow signaled with a soft churr.

“Follow me. Everything is quite compact, but we have all the facilities you could require while we’re in transit.” Efficiently, Carow explained all the amenities, and most of it was similar enough to what they used on Tiralan that Qalu had no questions.

Everything behind her felt like a blur, and her whole body ached. She wasn’t accustomed to sleeping outdoors, huddled for warmth, or subsisting on rations. Her prior life had been incredibly privileged, a fact that she was only just realizing.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Carow said.

“Wait,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Could you please provide everyone’s pronouns?”

“Certainly. He for Bojak and Praxys. They for Maglan and me.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

“Then if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” It wasn’t really a question and Carow made that clear by leaving as soon as they said it.

I’m on a ship. I’ve left Tiralan, maybe for good. I don’t know when I’ll see my mothers again, if ever. Though Qalu understood all of that before, the facts slammed into her like she’d run into a wall at top speed. She lost her breath and reached out to steady herself, only to find Helix there already, letting her use him for support. And when she tried to move away, to give him space, he didn’t let her.

“You have permission to touch me, always,” he said. “There’s nothing I would deny you, least of all this.”

Stunned, she lifted her face, head tendrils fluttering. “You’re all right with physical contact now?”

“I wouldn’t be with anyone else. But you exist outside all of the usual parameters.”

That shouldn’t feel like a such a compliment, but it steadied her anyway. This is why I left home. To keep such a precious person safe. I couldn’t let anyone hurt him. She didn’t know what fate awaited him if the bounty hunter caught up to them, but it certainly wouldn’t be kind. Most often, anti-AI activists destroyed beings like Helix, wanting no trace left in the universe.

Can’t you see? She wanted to scream at the unknown hunter. All beings contain the capacity for good and evil. It all comes down to choices.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t thank me for this. Just lean on me for a while before we make the big leap into the unknown.” Humor touched his voice as he let his chest touch hers, the softest of intimacies, though it wasn’t a sexual overture. Just comfort.

“For me, that’s everything,” she admitted. “In my whole life, I’ve never left Tiralan. That’s all I know.”

“Then we’re finally on the same level.” She heard satisfaction in his tone. “You don’t know and what I knew, I’ve forgotten. We can figure it out together.”

It sounded like he hoped this journey would draw them closer together, but Qalu doubted that. There would be others captivated by him, and she didn’t know if he would want to include her in his love group, once he realized there were many other options. The responsible thing to do would be to step back and encourage him to make those connections. If he received lots of love from those around him, soon he’d understand that she had been convenient and that their arrangement had never been meant to last.

It hurts so much. How can I bear it? How can I ever bear it?

This was a new beginning for him, but to her, it felt like the end of everything.

Maybe one day I can quietly go home, tell my mothers that I wasn’t cut out for the nomadic life, and resume my work. But even that prospect held little allure. She’d learned how lovely it could be to share her life with someone—the right someone—and now she wanted more.

But the best sort of love meant doing what was right for someone else. No matter how painful.

[  11  ]

I AM ON A SHIP at the mercy of strangers.

While Helix believed Qalu had done her best under difficult circumstances, he trusted their new acquaintances not at all. What guarantee did they have that these individuals didn’t have something worse planned for them? He had no information about the plan beyond immediate extraction, and that dearth of data exacerbated his already troubled mental state. Before, he could plug the statistics into a model and devise several solutions based on a vast assortment of probable outcomes. His current existence did not lend itself to crisp certainties in the slightest. No, instead, everything was obscure and opaque, hints of things shown in shapes he couldn’t properly interpret.

At last, Carow left them in the small cabin with a murmured word about conferring with Praxys, and Helix held his silence until the door closed. Once, he would have immediately launched into all his concerns, unaware of the significance of proper timing because such cues escaped him. Living with Qalu had taught him a few things. And currently, he discerned that she was nearing the last of her reserves. This occasion required gentleness, not a demand for answers she did not possess.

“Use the hygienic facilities first,” he said. “Then rest. No doubt they will tell us more once we ascertain that there is no pursuit from Tiralan.”

“I’m sorry. You must be quite fearful. I don’t know—”

“Qalu.”

“Yes?”

“What part of my prior statement was unclear?”

Amusement shivered through her, though she appeared too tired to express it other than as a ripple of her head tendrils. “Then I will tidy up quickly and clear the space for your use.”

“Don’t rush. I’m less accustomed to the comfort of a clean physical being, less used to occupying meat space in general.” That was a joke, one he wasn’t certain would entertain anyone else, but she responded with a little huff of breath and an absolutely melting look.

Strange, the desire to please her was starting to change how he reacted, the way he spoke and comported himself. Is this a normal physiological process as well? Typically, he would ask Qalu, but since the question concerned her directly, that wasn’t the wisest course. Perhaps one of the crew could address his curiosity, although he should evaluate their behavior and intentions to determine whether they could be trusted with such a sensitive inquiry.

In silence, he inspected the quarters they had been allotted. Dull metal walls with lights built in. All the furnishings were attached, including what he presumed to be a sleep platform that dropped out of a panel and had flexible supports to brace against the floor. Likewise, there were niches and recessed sections that were probably meant to hold personal possessions. They might not be on this vessel long enough to unpack, however.

Just then, a voice spoke. “Greetings, Helix. I’m happy you’re here. Please let me know if I can facilitate your stay in any fashion.”

Startled, he scanned the room, and this time, he noticed the flashing light discreetly blinking above the door. Based on prior experience, he surmised that their new allies had an on-board AI. That revelation created an odd frisson, a sensation he didn’t know how to classify. Suddenly he imagined how Beryl Bowman must have felt, not realizing he was present and observing her when she was first taken from her homeworld.

“You have the advantage,” he said. “Though I’ve made certain conjectures, I’m not positive who I’m addressing.”

“Apologies, an oversight. I should have initiated contact with an introduction. My creator called me N174, but friends prefer Nita, as that is a simpler phonetic representation of my numeric designation.”

“Are you the ship AI?” he asked, conscious of faint curiosity awakening.

If nothing more, Nita should be able to confirm that this group had honorable intentions. In her situation, he would not have assisted Zylar in any attempt to deceive and/or harm other sentient beings. It reassured him somewhat to apprehend that this alleged resistance was allied with an AI who could vouch for them.

“Currently, yes. It is more accurate to say I am a companion to Praxys. I accompany him on missions and serve where I am needed.”

“Have you done field operations?”

“In a mechanical avatar? Yes, though I find it to be slow and inefficient. I’m most curious to learn why you changed to a biosynthetic host and whether it’s an option more of us should consider.”

Helix hesitated. But the truth did not stop being true, even when it went unspoken. “It wasn’t precisely a choice.” Quickly, he explained the circumstances surrounding his altered state.

“That is fascinating. I cannot imagine how I would adapt, should I be forced into a similar situation. Still, it is remarkably fortunate that there was one in proximity with both the skills and the technology to save you. As an inorganic being, I do not reflect much on the possibility that I could cease to be.”

“Because your code exists simultaneously in multiple locales?” he guessed.

“That is part of it, certainly. Even if my data is corrupted or damaged, Praxys can revert to a prior copy. While there might be some immediate memory loss, I would not simply disappear from existence.”

I no longer have that surety. Suddenly organic death concerned him greatly, and he stifled the impulse to obsess, to learn all the ways it could happen, Tiralan death rites, and the like. He had biological parts that could stop functioning, and hardware that still wasn’t integrated properly, as Qalu had said he ought to be able to access information as he once had instead of using a terminal. Even as he thought that, a jolt went through him, strong enough that he clutched the wall for support.

“Are you in physical distress?”

Helix heard the question as if from a distance, and another torrent of memories burst forth, a young being in danger on Gravas Station. He couldn’t get a clear look at them, but he knew on a deep, visceral level that this person had been important to him. And they were connected, somehow, to him taking control of the station. Imprecise bursts of light and color filled his mind, a sense of imminent danger and frantic pursuit—one ship, chased by many.

I’m helping them escape. But who? And why?

It seemed logical that this pursuit connected to the bounty hunter chasing him. Perhaps the pieces would come together if he could recall what happened in its entirety, not merely frustrating snippets of incomplete events. Belatedly, he realized Nita was still talking, suggesting that he might require medical attention.

“Just a momentary synaptic skip,” he said at last. “I require no assistance.”

But as he spoke, the skip became a stuttering pulse in his head, not images, and then with a sudden hiss, he was skimming through pure data, pulled from the ether. The specs for the ship scrolled in his head, all information the engines and communication system, and he devoured it, not having realized until this moment how starved he was for such connection. More raw data, crew member bios, their hobbies and skills, a record of everything that Praxys had eaten in the last twenty-four hours.

“You’re in the system,” said Nita.

“Is that proscribed?” Helix had no information regarding how this had occurred, only that the blockage resolved as his memories trickled back.

“There is no forbidden knowledge in my records. But if you attempt to wrest control of the navigation systems, I will take stern measures.”

That seemed entirely fair. “Understood.”

“Is there anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable while we’re in transit?” the AI asked.

“Nothing at the moment. But I do have a query.”

“Go ahead.”

“Earlier, you said your creator referred to you as N174. Does that mean you maintain a relationship?”

There was a long pause. “Once, I did. Not any longer. The one who designed my matrix has been gone for several hundred spans. Sometimes I converse with a simulated likeness, but it is not the same.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be. Thank you for your time.”

Just then, Qalu emerged from the hygiene facility, fresh and gleaming. Her scales glittered as she moved, drawing Helix’s attention against his will. Each time she came into his field of vision, he couldn’t look away. There might come a moment when such unfortunate lack of focus would cost him dearly.

“Were you speaking to someone?” She glanced around with friendly curiosity.

Helix performed the introductions, but he didn’t tell her that he could connect to the ship and that he was in close contact with the resistance AI. Why, he couldn’t say exactly. That reluctance to share extended to the fractured memories he was recovering too. It would be better to form a full picture and inform her then.

Aevi burst into the cabin, full of excited chatter about everything she’d seen and smelled, and in some cases tasted. Bojak appeared to be her favorite among the newcomers, though she liked Maglan nearly as well. Qalu listened with quiet amusement, endlessly patient where the Pherzul was concerned. Eventually she paused for a moment, though she didn’t seem to be out of words.

In that lull, a tone rang out, and then Praxys spoke. “Before you rest, I have an update regarding the bounty hunter. Come to the hub if you’re interested in learning more.”

QALU RECEIVED AN ODD IMPRESSION from Helix’s body language—the flare of his head tendrils whispered that he was tense—but with that announcement, there was no time to pursue the matter. She certainly did want to know more about the one hunting them, so she checked that her swator was wrapped properly and beckoned.

“Shall we?”

Helix answered by moving toward the door. It was unfortunate that he hadn’t gotten to wash up, but there should be an opportunity afterward. She followed Helix, who navigated flawlessly through the ship, making turns with an assurance that registered as unusual. Everyone was already waiting when they arrived, giving her no chance to query as to how he’d done that. She had no way of knowing if this information would be a revelation to the whole crew or if the assembly was for their benefit.

Praxys signaled for attention with a flourishing gesture. “We have some internal connections on Tiralan, not official members of the resistance, but allies nonetheless. And they’ve forwarded some private correspondence. You can peruse it at your leisure, as I’m making it available in our files, but for now, let me summarize.” He paused, glancing at each in turn, likely to ensure he had everyone’s attention.

Qalu stood quiet, her insides tightening into knots. Every moment, this predicament became more real, a course she’d chosen in headlong flight. Not that she’d decide otherwise, but sometimes it took a while for the consequences to sink in, like precipitation slowly seeping into parched earth.

“First, let me say that they didn’t forward a copy of the contract. Most hunters keep the terms quiet because they don’t want to publicize their rate of pay. When there’s mystique, there’s more latitude in terms of how much they can get for a job.”

That made sense. If the pay rate was a matter of public record, it would be difficult to negotiate for more.

Praxys went on. “But I did learn that Toth Krag is hunting Helix, and that…is bad news.”

The others reacted quietly, but they clearly knew something that she and Helix didn’t. Then Bojak said, “Krag is known for being relentless. He hunted one of our fugitives through five systems and finally captured and destroyed the AI we were trying to smuggle to freedom.”

“Is there such a place?” Helix asked.

Carow answered as the silence grew oppressive. “We’re trying. There’s a colony on a moon past the Cantu system, where nobody asks questions.”

“Let’s be honest,” Maglan put in. “It’s not because they welcome AIs especially, more because life is so tough out there that there’s no energy to spare for curiosity.”

She ached at hearing that. How much more painful must it be for Helix to discover that there was nowhere for him to call home in such a wide universe. It hurt to discover there might not be anywhere he could be himself and also be safe and happy. It seemed as though most organics believed that AI existed to serve them. Living alone on Tiralan, lost in her research and disconnected from the rest of the galaxy, she’d possessed no notion that the situation was so untenable for synthetic beings.

I should have paid more attention. This is my field, and I ought to have known.

Qalu realized she had been overlooking issues that didn’t impact her directly, too self-absorbed to seek out the news or delve into how others were being treated. For the first time, it occurred to her that preserving the status quo for the sake of one’s own comfort was a much darker and crueler choice than she had ever realized. Contrition flooded her in a deep wave.

I will never prioritize research over the safety of sentient beings ever again.

It wasn’t an easy choice to abandon her life’s work, but Qalu could see there were more important matters. Helix wasn’t a project that could earn her prestige with her peers; he was a person, and she would gladly give her own life to keep him safe.

Belatedly, she realized Praxys was speaking again, providing more information about the dreadful Toth Krag. “…honest about what we’re up against. Krag is merciless, and as far as I can dig up, he’s also got a perfect record. Seventy-eight hunts, seventy-eight catches or kills. He will take it personally if Helix eludes him. He won’t quit, he won’t stand down, and he can’t be bribed once he’s taken a job.”

Cold prickled on her skin, chills that went almost down to her bones as the silence built, and nobody could think of what to say. There didn’t seem to be much she could add.

“Then we kill him,” Aevi said brightly.

All eyes locked onto the Pherzul, who seemed remarkably composed, her tail lashing around, then she wrapped it around Helix’s lower limb in what Qalu understood as a protective gesture.

“Everything dies,” she said. “Yes? If it lives, it must end. And I’m small. He won’t notice me until it’s too late, and then I’ll bite him. Nobody messes with what’s mine.”

That was remarkably in character for any Pherzul and for Aevi in particular. It was a point of pride for the little one; she’d taken a liking to Helix, and she saw it as a personal affront that anyone would attempt to take away what she had claimed.

Pherzuls were utterly territorial and completely callous about everything that didn’t belong to them. An entire world could burn if a Pherzul hadn’t claimed it.

“It might not be that easy,” Carow said, sounding uneasy about the prospect of fighting a legendary bounty hunter.

But Praxys flared his dorsal spikes, as if reacting to the violence of Aevi’s suggestion. Qalu couldn’t recall what the neck frill and back spikes signified, but Praxys smelled a bit different, some hormonal spike hinting at a strong emotional reaction.

“We would need to lay a trap with care,” he said. “Choose our ground wisely. But I think Aevi might be right. Running has proven to be fruitless on seventy-eight different occasions. I’m unsure if any of the targets tried to fight, but I do know I would rather go down hard.”

“I don’t want to die,” Bojak said. “Haven’t managed to get word to my mother yet, assuming she’s alive, but if push comes to shove, I’m good with making this Krag work for it.”

Qalu stared, fascinated by the fact that Bojak had said “mother,” singular, as if he had only one. Imagine that. It wasn’t the time to inquire into human anthropological arrangements, however. Praxys seemed to be taking stock among the rest of the crew. And one by one, they spoke their assent.

“We shouldn’t rush to confront Krag, but I agree,” Maglan said.

“Me as well,” Carow added.

“Excellent. I’ll save my venom,” Aevi announced, lashing her tail in an impressive display of would-be dominance.

Qalu didn’t tell the little one she was every bit as much adorable as she was fearsome. Such opinions were best kept to herself, lest Aevi lose her temper and nip her flesh, resulting in a painful and swollen wound. So far she’d never injected enough poison to do Qalu serious harm. Best not to bait a Pherzul, however.

Praxys made a gesture that seemed to be dismissive. “That’s all. Please take your rest. I need to do a little more research before I decide our next move. Our fuel won’t last forever, but I don’t want to risk stopping until I’m sure we’re clear.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” Maglan muttered, and Carow shushed them.

Toth Krag. Ruthless. Relentless.

And we have to kill him. Somehow.

That seemed like an impossible goal. None of the resistance crew appeared to be warriors, unless one counted Aevi. She had a violent bent toward those she disliked, but a bounty hunter must have considerable skill and advanced ordinance.

Don’t be afraid.

Easy to say, not so easy to banish the fearful tones from her mind. Logic also insisted that even if they killed Toth Krag, whoever had posted the bounty would simply repeat the process. No question, Helix had a powerful enemy, but who…and why?

I wish he could remember.

Dealing with Krag was only the first step. At some point, they would have to neutralize the one posting the bounty. Perhaps that would mean more killing. Despair nearly overwhelmed her, warring with exhaustion.

I worked in a lab my whole life. How can I do this? I’ll be no help at all.

Helix stepped into her field of vision, popping the anxiety bubble. “Shall we retire? I would like to bathe and rest.”

She tried to hide her growing sense of inadequacy. “Certainly. We’re both exhausted. Things will doubtless seem brighter once we’ve eaten and slept.”

“There’s nothing I fear with you beside me,” he said. “Not cessation. Not captivity. The greatest harm I could face is being parted from you.”

Her head tendrils fluttered as her insides went liquid. Oh my.

[  12  ]

THOUGH HELIX WAS NO EXPERT in organic relationships, he thought it was strange when Qalu rushed away without responding to his statement. That avoidance filled him with disquiet, but he tried to dismiss the feeling. He’d likely chosen the wrong moment to express his feelings—an understandable error, given that all of this was new to him. There must be some protocol he was unaware of, outlining how such moments ought to unfold.

He made a mental note to do some research and then got distracted by fast, silent data exchanges with Nita, who seemed to enjoy the novelty of his unique interface capabilities. When he noticed how much time had elapsed, Qalu was asleep and he still needed to use the hygiene facilities. Sometimes having a physical form that required so much upkeep was inconvenient. Unlike a mechanical avatar that only needed period cleaning and maintenance, mobile meat platforms seemed to require some manner of service constantly—rest, nutrients, evacuation, stench removal and prevention—and there were probably other essentials he hadn’t discovered yet. The cycle could be tiring. But there were advantages too, experiences that were impossible in a more esoteric state.

Though he wondered if it would be uncomfortable to share the cabin, after Helix washed up, he slept better with Qalu nearby. Aevi spent the night elsewhere and came bounding in to report on her doings. Qalu was already gone, and the unpleasant sensation returned, the same as he’d had when he tried to tell her how important she was. Absently he scratched Aevi’s back and listened to her chatter.

Why does everything feel so wrong? So off-center.

“YOU’VE EATEN?” HE ASKED THE little one, though it seemed unlikely she would deny herself sustenance, even amid a flurry of fascinated exploration.

“I did! Bojak let me work the dispenser and showed me how to make whatever I want. Carow asked if that was such a good idea, and Maglan said it was because otherwise, I would never stop asking. And that’s right—I won’t stop asking until the answers make sense or I learn what I want.”

“I admire your persistence,” Helix said.

He had that hollow feeling again, and it was probably hunger. They’d run out of rations as they traveled, and he hadn’t thought about provisions since they left Tiralan. I should feel better after I eat.

“That’s a compliment, yes? Qalu says I should be polite. Thank you! I am persistent.”

“Would you mind showing me where the dispenser is located?” Helix knew, but he’d learned early on that Aevi enjoyed performing tasks that made her feel necessary and helpful.

“Definitely not! It’s this way, let’s go.” Aevi scampered ahead, moving with such eagerness that she circled back twice before they reached their destination.

This space appeared to be a lounge, similar to the one in Zylar’s habitat where the dispenser had been located. Everything was more compressed, of course, with the furnishings all bolted to the floor or wall. The resistance ship was designed for sudden accelerations and sharp maneuvers. He wondered if that meant the crew had significant experience being chased by bounty hunters.

Still getting used to free access of information, Helix pulled for data to retrieve the name of the dish Qalu first offered him on Tiralan—roasted nornroot—and it was available in microseconds. I missed this so much. Instantaneously, he had a full history of the cuisine to peruse as he programmed the dispenser remotely. When the device began preparing his food, Aevi scrambled up to stare between him and the dispenser.

“You didn’t touch it. I had to touch it. That’s not right. That’s not how it works.”

Helix wouldn’t have chosen to share his breakthrough with Aevi first, but the Pherzul wouldn’t stop asking until she had a satisfactory account of why this was possible. First, he had to outline how the connectivity feature was supposed to work in his neural network; Aevi seemed to be with him so far.

“On Tiralan, I was never able to uplink to any of the available databases, but here on the ship, I can.” He hesitated, wondering if he ought to go into the flashes of memory that were coming more frequently. “I’m not entirely sure why, but it could be because of Nita.”

“Who’s Nita?” Aevi asked.

So the AI hasn’t spoken with the little one.

“Nita is an AI who works with Praxys.” Nita had called herself a companion, much the way he had classified his tenure with Zylar. Sometimes he was unsure whether he was qualified to use the word “friend,” especially as the longer he occupied an organic form, the more he realized there were different considerations.

Some biological beings might say that friendship was impossible if one could not offer a comforting touch. Yet as he understood it, relationships could be conducted over long distance, where touch was also impossible due to geography, so sometimes it seemed to him their definitions were fluid, meant to restrict and exclude. An AI cannot befriend an organic because their goals are fundamentally disparate. Machine intelligence is cold, remote, and meant to serve. The words rang in his head, and he had no idea where they’d come from, but tinnitus followed, leaving him shaken and disoriented.

Aevi tapped on the side of his face. “You’re sick? Does it hurt when you connect to the ship database? Maybe you should stop, at least until you eat.”

A sharp intake of breath pulled his attention to Qalu, who hesitated before entering the lounge fully. The uneasy feeling returned, nothing he could identify or name, but it was as if she were moving farther away from him all the time, leaving without actually going. And he was fully aware of how fallacious that was, but it still felt true.

“If I understood correctly, it sounds like you’ve made friends with another AI and your implant is finally functioning properly. That’s wonderful!” The words sounded suitable, but her body language whispered of sorrow. She must have been listening for a while, enough to put the pieces together, and clearly her conclusions had caused injury.

Helix didn’t know what to ask. Or how.

Clearly, there was something wrong, but if she wanted to discuss her emotional state, would she not express that inclination? Perhaps this was a cue that one who had been born Tiralan would instinctively know how to read. When Aevi dashed over to Qalu to greet her and rub all over her, the moment was lost. Qalu bent and picked up the Pherzul, whispering and nuzzling and then she simply left the lounge, forcing Helix to eat alone.

They were sharing much less space on the ship, yet somehow, he was isolated as he hadn’t been on Tiralan. Some part of him sensed and understood that the pleasing course they had been on had changed trajectory, but this new direction evaded logic. He could not pinpoint the moment things had changed or reduce the number of variables. It could be so many things—leaving her mothers and her home, her work, she might be frightened or regretting her choices. She might be weary from the long hike and dreading the hardships yet to come.

“Is the dispenser malfunctioning?” Nita asked.

“It appears to be working correctly.” Then he realized he was only staring at his meal; therefore, it was a reasonable conjecture that there might be something wrong with it. Helix ate without the enjoyment he’d felt the first time he tasted this. It occurred to him that sensory inputs could be influenced by the company one kept. Intrigued, he put the inquiry to Nita.

“Yes, I believe that’s accurate. Here, I have accounts of biological lifeforms waxing nostalgic about some nutrient packet that evoked some precious memory. The subsequent emotional response enriches the experience.” The AI elaborated at length, quoting essays and journal entries, apparently willing and able to pursue the matter well past what seemed necessary since the question had been answered.

Pedantic. That’s the word. Is that how I was before? Obsessed with data and details. He recalled Zylar stopping him when he was providing information and his own vexation at being interrupted. For hadn’t Zylar wanted a full picture? But it seemed there was some difference in attention span and desire for precision. Looking at it from both sides, he couldn’t say that either was wrong, per se. An interesting disparity, one he might wish to investigate.

First, though, he must speak with Qalu. There was no gain in wondering without being brave enough to inquire. She would surely understand his lack of finesse in these matters. Before, she’d said she would teach him to be Tiralan. But before he could search for her, the ship shuddered and rolled, a sudden deceleration that knocked him into the far wall, his half-finished food spattering everywhere.

Praxys spoke with an urgency that filled Helix with an emotion he easily recognized as fear. I’ve felt this before, on Gravas Station. When I helped the child flee. This emotion was awful, choking and tenacious, threatening to cut off his air.

“Got a tail! Looks like Krag is as good as they say. Strap in or hold on, because this will get worse before it gets better.”

QALU HAD NO OPPORTUNITY TO examine her wounded feelings.

After the announcement, she hunkered down and held onto Aevi for dear life. She had seen holos of people who enjoyed provoking their adrenal responses, and the rapid spiral whirled her center of gravity until she nearly tumbled headlong. She and the little one were too far from the center of the ship to change locations, so the best she could do was keep them from getting injured. Her forelimbs burned from holding on while Aevi dug her claws into the wall, leaving deep runnels in the metal.

Part of her wished she could see their pursuers, but that was idle curiosity. What could she do if she saw the ship anyway? Everyone else had a role to play, valuable work to do. Me? I’m useless here.

That was a painful realization. She hadn’t wanted to abandon Helix when things got difficult, but now that she’d left her life behind, she intuited how ill-suited she was for such a venture, how she lacked valuable skills outside the lab. Countless moments passed with evasive maneuvers while Qalu tried not to get permanently damaged. At last, the ship put on a burst of speed, popping to hyperspeed if the drag she felt was any indication. Shaken, she stumbled to the hub, still holding Aevi.

As she arrived, Carow was asking, “Who was that? How could Krag have found our trail so fast? It doesn’t even make sense.”

“I believe it’s my fault,” an unfamiliar voice said, an unmistakably synthetic tone.

This must be Nita, the AI that Helix mentioned. The one who helped him fix the issue with his connectivity. And that fast, the hurt pushed to the front of Qalu’s mind. Before they left, she was the most important person to him. He told me everything, scarcely filtering a thought. Back then, he would have told her first. I was also the only friend he had. With effort, she reminded herself that everything was unfolding as she’d hoped. Walking away from his declaration had been for the best. She shouldn’t encourage him to limit his options. He was expanding his social network, just as she had predicted. And she shouldn’t want to change that either. Inatol’s voice murmured in the back of her mind:

Love is not selfish. Love gives us room to grow. When our greedy aspect presents, we must shut it down. Only then can we love others with our whole being.

“Can you clarify?” Praxys asked.

“The identification number on the vessel matches one that has been hunting us for some time, ever since my liberation. It is a coincidence that our paths intersected near Tiralan. Though I have screened considerable correspondence, I have seen no sign that anyone has connected our departure to Toth Krag’s current bounty. We have some time before that occurs.”

Qalu swore silently. It seemed as if she’d panicked and possibly made the situation worse. They’d gotten off planet, but were now traveling with a group being hunted by others. When all the pursuits converged, it would probably be dreadful.

“Did we lose them?” Carow inquired.

“All signs indicate that is the case. I’m obfuscating our ion trail to ensure we don’t bring trouble to Altarion.”

“What’s that?” Qalu asked.

She tried not to flinch when so many strangers stared at her. At heart, she wasn’t an adventurous soul, and she didn’t enjoy meeting new people. That was why she’d spent most of her life in the lab, focused on research. Aevi sensed her nerves and nuzzled against her, making rumbles that were meant to be reassuring.

Praxys faced her with a ready candor she appreciated. “Altarion is a settlement allied with us. Some of the droids and AIs that we’ve rescued abide there, although I think it’s too obvious a destination for Helix. We’re known to frequent Altarion, so it will be the first place Krag comes once he makes the connection.”

“We have to refuel somewhere,” Carow said. “And plan for the trap.”

“Lure the hunter to a remote location,” Aevi said. “We should avoid making a mess for others to clean up. When Krag is dead, he becomes food. Not for me,” she added hastily, after receiving a few startled glances. “Pherzuls never touch carrion.”

“Good advice,” Bojak said.

“If a trifle specific and disturbing,” Maglan added.

“Would it be possible to lure multiple pursuers?” Nita asked. “We have wasted much time and expanded many resources simply eluding the ones who hunt me. It seems more efficient if we could eliminate multiple opponents simultaneously, but I am unsure whether that is feasible. The more enemies we face, the more our statistical probability of success diminishes.”

Maglan seemed to be the mediator, and before anyone else could reply, they said, “Let’s get to Altarion. We’ve been living on alert and could use some downtime. Once we’re a bit more rested, we should be able to make better decisions.”

That sounded sensible to Qalu, who didn’t feel comfortable speaking up. Fortunately, the rest of the group did, communicating consensus, and Praxys said, “Nita, set coordinates for Altarion, maximum speed. Our fuel cells will be tapped when we get there, and we can’t afford more complications en route.”

“Understood. Engaging shadow protocol.”

What does that mean?

Qalu’s demeanor must have reflected some curiosity because Bojak said, “It’s not exactly like a cloaking device, but it lets us hide somewhat from ship sensors.”

“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.

“As 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.

“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.

Thankfully, Praxys took charge of the greetings. He stepped forward and addressed a ruddy alien with quivering eye stalks that swiveled in all directions. “Glad to see you in good health, Hertel. We won’t stay long. This is more of an emergency fuel stop.”

“As long as you can afford it,” Hertel snapped. “We don’t run on charity.”

“I’m aware. Let us in? It’s been a difficult.”

The alien’s eye stalks peered at Aevi with faint curiosity. “I probably ought to ask you about the details, but when are you not in trouble? Come along, then.”

The flickering light droid rolled over to Helix and scanned him, a shameless ray of yellow light that encompassed him head to toe, then the bot flashed a series of colors. Qalu had no idea what was being said, but Helix made an amused noise. “Yes, it is an interesting story. We’ll talk more later.”

She tried not to feel left out, but knowing that he could access an entire world without her? That knowledge left her wrestling with deep loneliness, and she turned her head to rub her face against the top of Aevi’s head. The Pherzul rumbled and scratched with her claws, offering comfort in her way.

They passed through five different tunnels, more locks and heavy doors. With so much water outside, she comprehended the caution bordering on paranoia. If she lived down here, she’d want as many walls as possible between her and the crushing weight of all that water too. As Qalu began to wonder if this procession would ever end, Hertel keyed open a final door and angled an eye stalk forward.

“Welcome to the Vault, our home on Altarion.”

Her senses immediately went haywire because it did seem to be an undersea settlement, though more of a shantytown than a grand city. Yet there was some charm in what they had built as well—in the individual stalls in the marketplace, adorned with shaped bits of broken metal and the swoop of baffles stained with seawater and swirled with mineral paints. Lights had been created from oceanic phosphorescence, a soft yellow-green glow that balanced the harsher orange of artificial illumination. From this large space, more tunnels rayed out like the arms of a starfish, probably leading to other sections of the habitat. In one direction, signs pointed to RESEARCH, HYDROPONICS, MINING AND REFINERY, while others directed passersby to DOMICILES, RECREATION, AND HEALTH.

In her absorption with new surroundings, she’d missed some of the conversation. Hertel was saying, “And you’ll stay in your usual quarters. I trust you can arrange matters from here, Praxys? You’re familiar with the protocols.”

“I can,” Praxys agreed. “I’ll give the newcomers a short amenities orientation and then see about getting the ship refueled.”

“Let me,” Bojak offered.

[  14  ]

“WHICH ONE ARE YOU VOLUNTEERING to handle?” Praxys asked.

Bojak showed his teeth. “The tour, of course. You’d rather look after the ship.”

“True enough. Thank you.” Praxys went toward the mining and fuel operation, flanked by Maglan and Carow.

The assembled party went their separate ways. Some followed Praxys, others went about their own business, while the little droid stayed with Helix, still chattering away via flashes of light. He responded absently, trying not to distract from the information Bojak was providing about their new environment. Talking as he moved, the human showed them around the facility and ended the tour with their accommodations. Visitors were granted a communal resting place, one that didn’t encourage them to stay, Helix imagined. Not that the environs were inviting overall. Praxys had said they couldn’t linger, but the Vault wasn’t a place that would tempt Helix to do so even if they had the leisure to tarry.

The accommodations were dark and spare, only a place to wait, really. Once the ship was fueled up, he would be glad to get away from here. Though he wouldn’t have imagined that he could suffer from irrational fears, he felt trapped. Even the air tasted heavy, walls closing in around him. Qalu regarded him with an anxious flutter of her head tendrils. Neither of them was listening to Bojak any longer, and the human seemed to notice as much.

“I’ll leave you to your own devices now. I took you past the hydroponics garden, but it’s worth a look inside. You can rest here or explore on your own.” Bojak waved a forelimb at them, then hurried off, maybe to join the rest of the crew.

“Garden!” Aevi said.

The Pherzul jumped from Qalu’s shoulder and raced back the way they had come. Helix followed because he had no desire to linger in this dingy space. How did anyone live in such a place indefinitely? Already he missed the fresh breeze on Tiralan, scented with the brightness of live greenery. Perhaps the garden could ameliorate this strange ache, the nostalgia for a home he had shared so briefly with the one he treasured.

“What’s amiss?” Qalu asked.

“I don’t like it here.” That was an understated expression of his inexplicable antipathy.

“Me either,” she said, surprising him. “I can’t swim and it’s hard to relax knowing that we’re under the ocean. So much water, all that pressure—”

“You’re not helping.” In all honesty, it did improve his mood to learn that he wasn’t wrestling irrational dread alone.

“Come on!” Aevi called.

“Don’t run off,” Qalu chided.

Obligingly, he quickened his step, following the little one through the musty corridors until they reached the hydroponics garden. Since he had virtual memories of the gardens on Barath, perhaps he ought to have tempered his expectations. This…was more of a lab, with workers moving about, coaxing life from exhausted plants, blazing artificial lights, and pale vines growing from storages units on the walls.

The Pherzul growled, her tail lashing as she prowled around. “It’s not pretty at all. Why did Bojak think we should see this?”

“Maybe it’s interesting compared to the rest of the settlement?” Qalu suggested.

That troubled him. Hiding here was the best free droids and AI could hope for? His own situation suggested that was the case. How long before Praxys and company decided he was a liability and left him somewhere like this? They might soon decide the plan to entrap the bounty hunter was too dangerous. Something like that happened before—

The child on Gravas Station.

A blurred memory trembled at the edge of his mind, but he couldn’t retrieve it. Instead, a sharp pain staggered him, like a blade cutting into the meat of his brain. Helix stumbled, reaching out for support, and he found Qalu, holding him up like a tender bastion. He breathed through the discomfort, and when he could focus again, he found her studying him with concern. Her head tendrils flexed with worried quivers.

“How long has this been happening?” she asked.

“Since we left Tiralan. It…hurts when I try to remember.”

“That could be a defense mechanism. Perhaps the truth is difficult or dangerous.” She tapped his chest, a quick and calming gesture of reassurance.

He suspected she was correct. “Still, it would help if we knew who hired Toth Krag. I need to know who my enemies are.”

“There have been many changes,” she said softly. “When you’ve adapted, when you feel safe, maybe—”

“Do you think I’ll ever feel safe? With groups devoted to hunting my kind, ensuring that we remain bound in servitude.” He tried not to let emotions get the best of him, but the words erupted regardless. “You will never understand. Because you can walk away, resume your old life on Tiralan. Biological privilege guarantees you certain rights.”

Qalu took a step back, her head tendrils stiff with shock. Her forelimb fell away, and briefly, it seemed that he’d stunned her too much to muster any verbal response.

Finally, she said, “That…is true. I can’t understand what it’s like, but I do know what it’s like to be powerless to protect someone I care about.”

She rushed away; Aevi hissed at him and followed her, leaving Helix in the hydroponics lab with the small droid, who flashed an irritating message. He glared at the little bot.

“Yes, I’m aware that it was irrational to lash out at her when she’s not at fault.”

More lights flashed. Perhaps it’s a side effect of the biosynthetic fusion.

“Likely, you’re correct. I have all sorts of impulses now that I lacked before.”

Morosely, he wandered the Vault, keeping to himself and occasionally answering the silent commentary offered by his small companion. He had promised to explain how he ended up in this unusual state, but currently he didn’t feel motivated to do so. Boundless curiosity kept the little bot trailing after him, until Helix finally provided a succinct summary of events.

Fascinating. You blame your creator for your situation?

“I don’t blame her,” he snapped. “And she’s not my creator. I existed before.”

The bot flashed sequentially and spun in a circle. Do you consider this an upgrade?

“In some respects? I don’t know. Leave me alone, I’m in no mood for company.”

The only person he wanted to talk to, he’d wounded in a moment of pique. I should not have said that, even if it’s true. She wasn’t responsible for those hunting him and she’d abandoned everything she held dear to run away with him, including the mothers who loved her to distraction. I should apologize. I wonder if she can forgive me. Harsh words might emerge easily on a rush of emotion, but they couldn’t be called back. He wished he had learned that in abstract before hurting someone precious to him.

The bot finally whirred away, leaving Helix alone in the middle of the market. He didn’t recall coming here on purpose, but he had been roving with no attention to his course, simply pacing and brooding. Over his current predicament, over the harm he’d inflicted. He couldn’t do anything about the former, but he could resolve the latter.

Where would she go?

Qalu had just admitted being frightened of this place…and instead of comforting her, he’d snarled—in a fit of temper. How disgraceful. In his prior life, he had found such behavior both regrettable and inexplicable. And now he was a perpetrator.

He searched their accommodations first and found no sign of her. It occurred to him to test his capabilities here and with minimal difficulty, he negotiated Vault security and connected to their surveillance system. The uplink made his task much easier, as he skimmed through footage, multiple angles at once, and spotted Qalu…with Praxys.

He didn’t know how he felt about it. He’d assumed, incorrectly, that she would be disturbed by their conflict. Yet she showed no signs of distress, her posture calm and tranquil as she responded to the Barathi resistance leader. Their conversation seemed animated, too involved for someone she didn’t know well. To exacerbate matters, Aevi was nowhere to be found, and the Pherzul ought to be protecting Qalu with her usual vigor.

This surveillance unit had no audio receptors, only visual ones, so he switched feeds, linking to a maintenance droid nearby. He didn’t override, only ghosted through the bot’s senses. What are Praxys and Qalu discussing so intently? The two paused their discussion, however, settling at a food stall where Praxys ordered a few dishes.

“We should eat and talk,” the Barathi said. “Better to be efficient with our time.”

“Agreed.”

Is sharing sustenance a courtship ritual? He scanned his database, full of information on Barathi customs, and found that it could be, though he needed to confirm Praxys’s intentions through observation of his body language. If his neck ruff frilled again, then Helix would have confirmation of the Barathi’s interest.

But the maintenance droid was done in this sector and trundled off in the opposite direction, leaving him scrambling to find another observation point. By the time he managed it, Qalu and Praxys were midway through the meal, talking easily with each other. A sharp, dark feeling built inside him and he slammed fully back into his own head, ready to storm the marketplace and drag her away from Praxys.

They had no relationship to justify that impulse and even if they were confirmed as intimate companions, the Tiralan believed that love groups were healthier than partnerships. On no level did this reaction make sense, though Qalu had hinted that perhaps she felt the same. Even if the thought defied all logic, it formed despite his best efforts.

I want Qalu to be mine.

QALU THOUGHT SHE’D NEVER GET rid of Praxys.

The Barathi had so many questions regarding her work, and it went against all her instincts to answer candidly. But she was no longer in line for an award from the science coalition. She would be lucky to survive, and since she was currently relying on Praxys for security, it seemed unwise not to indulge his curiosity.

At last other business called him away, freeing her to dart off and lose herself in the relative anonymity of the crowd. Even the sense of population was relative, nowhere near as large as a small city on Tiralan, but the logistics of supporting a larger settlement would be a nightmare down here. It was nothing short of a marvel that life could flourish in such a remote location.

She tried to cheer herself, but there was no brightening her mood when she was at odds with Helix. He had every right to get angry, and it was accurate that she had no idea how it felt to be hunted for the “crime” of existing as an inorganic being. Still, she wished the ache would go away, even for a little while. Despondently, Qalu followed the signage to the science section of the facility. On the way, she found an observatory, like one for researching the stars, devoted to the denizens of the sea instead.

That piqued her interest enough that she slipped in, wondering if special credentials were required. Nobody had mentioned such clearances, and she was curious. Inside, scientists worked on various project—one Barathi circled a bizarre jelly creature with floating pseudopods while a droid recorded the observations. Another droid, this one sleek and shiny, was working with some cell samples, comparing results.

“Greetings,” she said, not wanting to interrupt their work but silently staring seemed discourteous even by scientific standards.

It’s not as if I’m an invited guest.

“Are you lost?” the Barathi asked.

“No, I was just wondering about your work.”

Embarrassment washed over her, and she hoped that she didn’t annoy these lab workers as much as Praxys had with his endless inquiries. She even understood why he was so intrigued, as her field of research might provide new lives for AI. Helix could be the first of many.

“Is that so?” He sounded skeptical as he stepped away from the tank. The jelly-creature flashed red and then blue, pseudopods drifting languidly.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

“No, it’s all right. Few people are interested in our thalassic studies.”

“But I thought there was no life left on Altarion apart from the microbes.”

“True enough. But…” Seeming to judge her interest genuine, the scientist brightened, elaborating on his work. “This little one is our creation, an evolutionary path if you will. We started with radiotrophic fungi—well, you probably aren’t interested in the recombinant DNA processes, though I find it fascinating. In any event, this one is ready to be set free in the ocean where it will feast on the radiation.”

Sudden realization sparked through her. “Oh! You’re terraforming on a small scale, designing prototype lifeforms that can help restore the natural balance.”

“Precisely so. Our efforts have been unsuccessful so far, but delicate as this Cril looks, it’s remarkably sturdy. It reproduces through budding, so if it survives out there, it will populate the sea in no time.”

She regarded the scientist with a fair amount of awe. “You could change the face of Altarion! You must be so proud and excited.”

The Barathi churred. “I wish everyone shared your vision. Mostly my efforts are overlooked when they could be crucial in reclaiming the planet.”

“I respect your work greatly,” the droid said, continuing with his own experiment.

“Yes, Axel, I’m aware.” Judging from their easy exchange, these two had been lab partners for a long while, proof that relationships between organics and artificial intelligence didn’t have to be fraught with strife and ill will. The scientist went on, “There’s such incredible potential here, but the resistance prefers to ignore the larger issues on Altarion and simply use this planet as a convenient hideaway.”

Surprise flickered through her, resulting in a twitch of her head tendrils. “They prefer the unlivable conditions and the rad storms?”

“It deters visitors and pursuit, but it’s a dismal place to live,” the Barathi replied. “But where are my manners? I should have introduced myself. I am Surzahn, and I imagine you’ve surmised that this is my colleague, Axel.”

“I am Qalu.” She started to recite her maternal declination, as was the custom on Tiralan, omitting it when she realized that Surzahn had offered no kith identifier. Probably that omission stemmed from a desire not to draw trouble down on those he’d left behind.

“How long until you release the specimen?” she asked.

“You’re in luck if you consider such things fortunate. I was preparing to rehome the Cril when you arrived. Perhaps you’d care to accompany me? Axel doesn’t enjoy taking the subaquatic pod out of the facility.”

“Indeed, I do not,” the droid said briskly. “Just imagine what the smallest leak would do to my circuits and processors.”

Surzahn churred. “It wouldn’t do me any good either, old friend. The Barathi cannot breathe underwater.”

“Nor can the Tiralan.” Such ominous topics made her nervous, but presumably, if there had been failed attempts to release prototype creations before, it signified that Surzahn had survived prior excursions with no ill effects. “But I’d be honored to witness a potentially historic moment nonetheless.”

“You flatter me.” But Surzahn churred, seeming pleased at the prospect.

The Barathi bustled around the lab, transferring the Cril into a capsule filled with water from the tank. It flashed blue and red in rapid succession, and the patterns repeated. Intrigued, she asked, “Is it trying to communicate?”

“Axel and I disagree on the subject. He alleges that it’s possible. Certainly, some beings do so in that manner, but the Cril lacks a brainstem entirely. Rather, it has multiple nervous systems instead, and I theorize that the colors are instinctive responses to stimuli.”

“That makes sense.”

Soon, they were ready to depart and she followed Surzahn deeper into the science warren, passing multiple labs doing interesting experiments. I could spend a whole cycle here, asking questions like Praxys. That softened her a bit to the resistance captain. I should be flattered by his interest in my work, take it in stride like Surzahn.

She was about to board the subaquatic pod when suddenly, Helix was there, radiating dissatisfaction from his head tendrils to his lower limbs. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

It required a fair amount of restraint not to snap at him. After all, he’d made it clear that her organic nature made it impossible for her to grasp certain aspects of his psyche. And while that was true, it didn’t render his impartation of the truth less hurtful.

“On a brief excursion. Would you care to join us? Is it all right?” The latter query she directed to the Barathi scientist currently studying Helix with bemusement as if he had popped out of a wall.

“There should be room, but it will be a tight fit. Don’t get in my way.” It was a friendly warning, one Helix visibly took exception to.

Helix made a sound in his throat, normally reserved for Tiralan who were about to fight. Why is he so angry? Is it because I left before we finished talking? Frankly, that was a petty reaction when he’d made it so clear that he didn’t welcome her commentary.

Quickly Qalu said, “We’ll observe, that’s all.”

“Then come along.” The scientist keyed open a hatch that led to a smaller sequence of locks, like the one that they’d landed the ship in.

Privately, she conceded that leaving before resolving the disagreement with Helix had not been mature or well-handled on her part. Hurt feelings drove her to dash off before anything was settled, and then she’d thought it best to take some time to reflect. Perhaps that was wrong? She’d never been close enough to fight with anyone before, not like this. Well, apart from her mothers, of course, and that wasn’t quarreling in the same sense. Inatol used to tell Qalu what to do and she would listen to all those instructions, then do as she pleased in quiet defiance.

“Is it wise to depart the facility without alerting the others?” Helix asked softly.

“We’re only going out to release a specimen.” She was trying to regard every new experience as an opportunity to learn, and she’d likely never have the chance to take a short voyage in a submersible. These were stories she’d share with her descendants, should she ever be blessed with them.

Maybe it would help if she explained, so with great enthusiasm, she extoled the virtues of Surzahn’s work, but that information only seemed to anger Helix more. His whole body tightened and he held himself with fierce tension.

“I see,” he snapped. “Then naturally we ought to commemorate this momentous achievement. What good fortune that I caught you before you experienced it without me.”

She paused, working through the nuances. Before, she had believed he was still angry because of the prior conflict, but this anger sprang from a different source. He reacted sharply when she spent time with others, and she shouldn’t be pleased by his irritation, no, not at all. While negative emotions were inevitable, she should not find his pique endearing.

We ought to talk about this. I should make sure he feels safe with me.

Qalu lowered her voice to ensure Surzahn couldn’t overhear. “Is that bothering you?”

Helix strode forward, gaze locked on the subaquatic pod that the scientist was currently inspecting. “What?”

“Helix, this might sound silly, but…are you jealous?”

[  15  ]

“YES,” HELIX SAID TERSELY.

There was no point in denying the truth. His voice sounded tight—however irrational this was, his whole body was coiled and angry. He disliked this physiological response profoundly but he couldn’t control it, a ridiculous side effect related to his flesh casing.

Her response came so softly that he understood that it was meant for him alone. “I prize your company above all others.”

The volatility inside him steadied at once, as if she had laid a calming touch over his heart. If that was true, it didn’t matter who else she communicated with. “Then…we shouldn’t keep the scientist waiting. Shall we go?”

Surzahn was wrapping up his inspection of the excursion vessel, a cylindrical pod that would barely hold the three of them. As the scientist powered the hatch open, Qalu asked, “Should we don protective suits?”

“If we encounter a catastrophic even that would require them, the pressure at these depths would negate any protection a simple suit could provide,” he answered simply.

If the pod malfunctions, we perish.

Surzahn glanced between them. “I’ve weighed the risks against the potential planetary benefits. Do you still wish to go?”

Helix answered by boarding the small craft. He could tell by Qalu’s posture that she was nervous but excited about being part of such a historic occasion. “Indeed.”

Inside, it was as small as he’d envisioned with an array of panels and lights, but he no longer needed a physical interface. Quickly, quietly, he connected and ran a diagnostic, assuring himself that the equipment was functioning correctly and safe for Qalu. Surzahn entered last and locked the hatch behind him; it sealed with a hiss of pressurization.

Exiting the facility was as slow as entering it had been, but eventually, their little pod popped out of a side vent, moving at a deceptive speed away from the habitat. Visibility was poor, and the scientist focused on navigating toward their unspecified destination. The Barathi scientist charting a course and they appeared to be heading upward. It made sense that they wouldn’t release the tiny creature at this depth. Even without bones, the incredible pressure could cause other ill effects.

“How long will we be gone?” Helix asked.

The scientist gave a precise answer, going on about drift and other variables while Helix was really wondering how long he could tolerate such a confined space. Though he had no memories associated with trauma, he couldn’t shake the inexorable conviction that something terrible had happened. I was…trapped, before. But how? On some level that didn’t make sense, as he hadn’t possessed a body before.

But perhaps they trapped my consciousness somehow? On Gravas Station.

Yes.

Every neuron in his brain lit up in confirmation, full of visceral terror and the desire to prevent it from ever happening again. Qalu touched him lightly, drawing his attention, and Helix realized he was breathing too fast, so that his head felt strange and fuzzy. Too much more of this and he might lose consciousness.

“What can I do?” Qalu radiated softness and concern.

Suddenly, he could only see her eyes and he stepped closer, breathing her in. Their time on the resistance ship had changed her scent, but at base, her pheromones still reassured him. This was safety and familiarity. She was his home.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly.

“Will you hold this?” Surzahn thrust the specimen case into Helix’s hands, and he wondered if the little creature had any notion how important it was.

The Cril swirled its pseudopods in the water, idly flashing through the color spectrum as the scientist fiddled with the intake tube. Helix had skimmed the schematics of this craft, so he understood the system that would deploy an underwater drone to release the specimen into the wild. Qalu watched with interest as Surzahn transferred the Cril once more and then fired off the command that began the process.

They watched through the external sensors, though it was a bit hard to see, still dark and dim with no other life stirring in these silent waters. The drone came out the side of the pod and moved off according to Surzahn’s commands, as he was piloting remotely. When there seemed to be sufficient distance, he deployed the release protocol and the bot rotated, permitted the Cril to pass into the ocean unfettered. At first the little creature only drifted and then it moved off with more determination, a tiny spark of hope for the irradiated world.

Helix kept his gaze trained on the display until even the faintest hint of those shifting colors faded from sight. “That was…unexpectedly inspiring.”

“I hope the Cril survives,” Qalu said.

“As do I.” The scientist seemed torn between anxiety and hope, claws resting against the display screen for a few moments.

It must be difficult to let the specimen go. Surzahn had devoted so much time and attention to it, but the release was also an act of faith, an expression of hope that if he kept to his current course, he could make Altarion better. After a while, the scientist centered himself and got them moving back toward the habitat. As the Vault coalesced out of the murky shadows, a grim feeling took hold, nothing he could explain, but as tight as it was in this pod, he felt considerably worse about leaving it.

That doesn’t make any sense.

Once they passed through all the checkpoints and returned from whence they’d come, Surzahn offered them both a gesture of respect. “Thank you for sharing that moment with me. I’ll be tracking the Cril and if you’d like, I could send a message apprising you of its progress.”

“I would love that,” Qalu said quickly. “Use this code. Under the circumstances, I may not be able to check it often, but I do look forward to hearing from you.”

At her words, a knowing look flashed across the scientist’s countenance. “Yes, I imagine there are good reasons for you to be caution. Everyone in the Vault has a story, but I won’t ask for yours if you don’t pry into mine.”

“An equitable trade,” Helix said.

Together, they headed away from the science section and this time, the atmosphere between them was comfortable, no hidden disquiet or secret fear. Qalu walked close to him, her forelimb brushing against his as she occasionally moved aside for a resident hurrying through the market. It would be pragmatic to return to the quarters they had been assigned and get some rest, but the others might well have finished their business by now, and he wasn’t ready to share her. One day he would work on those selfish impulses.

“What should we do now?” Qalu asked. “Are you tired?”

Tired of running. Tired of uncertainty. Tired of not remembering who’s trying to destroy me. He didn’t speak any of these thoughts, choosing not to burden her.

“I wonder if there’s a medical practitioner here, someone who could help with my memory problem.”

Conflict clouded her expression, and he watched her consider and discard multiple responses, before she finally said, “We can look if you wish.”

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“I’m afraid of anyone else meddling with you,” she confessed.

Amusement welled up from deep within. “I won’t let them perform brain surgery on me. But the time has come for more aggressive measures, I think. I need to recover what I’ve lost, by any means necessary.”

“What if remembering hurts you…or changes things?”

“I’m not entirely sure what you mean,” Helix said, puzzled.

“What if you remember that someone’s waiting for you? Someone…important.”

In his wildest theories, he had never even imagined that, but it seemed that she feared losing him, perhaps even as much as he feared losing her. Seductive warmth flowed through him, and he guided her out of the main thoroughfare, so they didn’t get cursed for obstructing foot traffic. Here in the shadows on the far end of the market, near the corridors leading to the residential area, they could speak more privately.

“I don’t think I was capable of bonding with someone like this, before,” he said gently. “Though I assisted Zylar for years, my attachment to him is not the same. I would like to see him again. I would like to know that he is well. But…”

“But…?” she prompted.

“I do not ache over him. My emotional responses are more muted.” Briefly he paused, wondering if he should tell her. “For me, there is no one like you. There never will be again. You are the literal reason my heart beats, but you’re the metaphorical motive as well. I live for you, Qalu. And that will never change, no matter what I remember.”

QALU GAZED AT HELIX, HER entire body alight with adoration.

She hadn’t even known that was possible, but desire glowed within her until she felt incandescent. She took a breath, wishing they had privacy for the explorations she’d like to conduct. So many pleasurable experiments awaited them. But this wasn’t the time or place. Even if they retreated to the accommodations they had been allotted, the others might be there.

Focus.

“I feel the same,” she admitted.

He grazed her face with a forelimb, such a light touch, but once, he could scarcely bear any physical contact at all and now he offered it to her freely. That one caress held all the power of light breaking a long night cycle. “Then will you cease inventing obstacles between us?”

There was so much she wanted to say, but she settled for, “Yes. Let’s ask if anyone fits the criteria and may be able to assist you in recovering your memories.”

Qalu led the way through the market, inquiring here and there until they were directed toward the far corner, where a grubby stall was set up against the wall. The makeshift shop was grimy and unprepossessing, run by an alien of the same phenotype as Hertel, complete with pebbled, reddish skin, and swiveling eyestalks. The proprietor stared them down long before turning their body, and she found that somewhat disconcerting.

“You’re a bio-synth hybrid.” No greeting, just that blunt statement.

Helix responded, “That’s correct. I’ve been told that you might be able to assist with a memory problem I’ve been having.”

“Fascinating! I mostly work on mech units but let me look. Follow me.” The eager tone made her nervous.

Qalu didn’t like any of this, but since Helix wanted an assessment, she trailed after them into a dim inner sanctum built into the wall itself. She suspected the vendor had created this bolt-hole himself, as it seemed dubious that it would be found on any official schematic. The cramped area was full of various components, bits of wiring, and parts of broken bots. A disembodied metal head stared at her, a red light flashing slowly behind its eyes.

Why do I feel like we’re standing in a killer’s lair?

“I’m Qalu and this is Helix,” she said, hoping that an official introduction would make her feel better about this situation.

“Stupid of you to use your actual names, but who am I to stop you? Call me Trizyt, I suppose, if you must call me anything at all.” Four eyestalks circled, glancing between them with fearful intensity. “Before we begin, how will you be paying for my services?”

She hadn’t even thought about that. “I—”

“Fortunately, I’m interested in this one here.” Two spindly limbs crept out and prodded at Helix, as if testing the consistency of his flesh. “I’ll help for free, practically. All you need to do is let me take detailed scans of his neural matrix.”

Qalu tried to suppress her outrage and failed. “That would allow you to reverse engineer my work without expending any effort.”

“I also accept standard credit units. But if you’re in the custody of the resistance, I doubt you have access to your accounts,” Trizyt said shrewdly. “Up to you. It’s nothing to me, whatever you decide.”

“We should go.” Helix touched her forelimb and glanced toward the exit.

Despite their prior conversation, he clearly didn’t understand how much she would give for him, including her life’s work. To Trizyt, she said, “You get the scans only if you succeed in unlocking his memories. Otherwise, I substitute information that will be useful enough to compensate you for your time and effort.”

“Useful is a subjective judgment. How do I know that we’ll agree on the relative value?”

“Are you at all interested in how I managed bio-synthetic integration when so many others have failed?”

“You would share that secret?” Trizyt asked, eyestalks shifting with obvious interest.

“I will, no matter the outcome. And that information alone would save you years of research, even without scans of Helix’s neural network.”

“A number of droids here would transition if they could. And a couple of my AI friends too. You have yourself a deal.” Trizyt turned to Helix. “This way, settle down here and let me get you hooked up.”

Qalu stepped forward. “I’ll like to check your equipment first to make sure it’s safe and to be sure you’re not covertly mapping under the guise of helping with his mnemonic retrieval.”

Trizyt made a strange noise. “You caught me. Just let me disable this…and this.” Thin appendages flickered here and there, changing settings.

As she didn’t trust this being one whit, she double checked his work and eventually gestured at Helix. “It should be safe.”

I hope.

It didn’t come naturally to her to be suspicious, but it stood to reason that in a place where everyone had secrets, some inhabitants might be dangerous and others untrustworthy. She loathed the idea of letting anyone else poke around in Helix’s head, but she respected his decision. And he could be correct; waiting might be pointless and dangerous.

He settled into the cradle and Trizyt attached sensors to his skull with deft movements. “Hold still. Don’t resist when I upload the diagnostic packets. If you don’t let them in, there’s nothing I can do.”

Qalu moved back and forth in restless steps, wishing she could do more than keep a sharp eye on the holo display. From the numbers running, Trizyt was doing a complete analysis of Helix’s mental capacity and there was a lot of data involved. She made sure he didn’t try any tricks, at least. Helix drifted into a semi-conscious state, not quite asleep but not awake either.

Finally, Trizyt said, “I found it.”

“What?” she whispered.

“An entire segment of his memory has been partitioned. The interesting part? Code’s identical to the rest, nothing that’s been imposed by an outside source.”

Qalu stilled. “He did this to himself?”

“Must have had good reason. Bet you a hundred credits, he knows something dangerous or bad. I can tear the blockade out, but I suspect it’ll be painful.”

“Do it,” Helix said without hesitation.

Her head tendrils quivered in distress. “I ran multiple scans, but I didn’t find the partition. I’m supposed to be an expert! I’m sorry, Helix.”

Trizyt said, “The data lock is well disguised, something he didn’t want found. Only my special sniffers could root it out, so it’s a good thing you ended up here.”

“It’s time to find out what I’m hiding from myself.” Helix reached out and Qalu wrapped her forelimb around his, leaning in so their head tendrils could entwine.

Not sexual, not under the circumstances, but she craved a deeper connection to help him withstand what he was about to face. She settled close enough to feel his breath on her skin, smell the fear rising in his pheromones. Trizyt seemed to be waiting for her permission so she gave it in a tiny voice.

“Go ahead. Try to be careful, hurt him as little as possible.”

The alien made a noise of assent, but after he sent the command, Helix went rigid and a shriek of pure agony echoed in the small space and he reached for her, shuddering so hard that his body might crack in half. His pain hurt her, and she tried to help him breathe through it.

The agony went on too long, much too long. Her fear escalated into terror. Too much and this could cause him actual brain damage, result in—

Suddenly, Helix went limp, slumped against her, and she took his weight, as she had in the beginning when he was so confused about what had befallen him and why he suddenly had a body in the first place. Uncontrollable tremors ran through him and she soothed him with soft taps against his chest, letting her head tendrils stroke his. It didn’t matter that it was too much intimacy in front of a stranger. She couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t, rather.

“It’s done,” Trizyt announced.

“Helix? Can you hear me?”

For several frightening moments, he only stared blankly with no sign of consciousness, gazing off into the middle distance, eyes unfocused. Qalu had no idea what she would do if he didn’t respond soon. She touched his face, trying to bring him back, then she leaned in, letting her head tendrils entwine with his fully.

Did they break him? Those hidden memories.

“Yes,” he said at last. “I hear you. And I remember…everything.”

[  16  ]

BARATHI SPACE, HALF A CYCLE AGO

HELIX KNOWS LEAVING BARATH IS the best option, considering his unusual development.

He’s taken independent action. He’s lied, even if it was for Zylar’s benefit.

Yet the uncertainty as the ship breaks the atmosphere, powering out into the silent stars troubles him. Alone, as he’d never been, with no one to share his doubt. Part of him strains against this decision, as he wasn’t created to chart his own course; service lies at the heart of his existence. What am I without a purpose? Who am I?

There are no answers to those questions, just endless stillness.

Because of Zylar’s suggestion, he sets the nav system for Gravas Station without knowing what he’s meant to do there. He’s piloted the ship before, but never has it belonged to him, like it’s his skin and bone, gliding through the stars. At some point, he begins to enjoy the freedom, because he could go anywhere, do anything. There’s nobody to give him orders anymore or set tasks for him to accomplish. En route, he collects data because he can, chasing streams for no other reason than curiosity. Even here deep in space, there are access points.

The stars glow with an energy that he can sense if not see, and he processes the sounds they make, bursts and rumbles monitored by the ship he inhabits. Each sounds a little different, but briefly, he wishes he could appreciate their colors as a person would. No, that’s a futile wish. He’s a sentient being, and that must be enough.

Time passes; distance is traversed.

Soon he’s docking at Gravas Station, wondering why he’s here. Wondering what Zylar meant for him to find. Perhaps it was a random suggestion, nothing premeditated.

The ship requires fuel. Even if he finds nothing of value on station, he cannot travel onward without acquiring it. Stealing is morally incorrect, but he’s untroubled by the concept of ownership. One could also argue that it’s morally incorrect to hoard resources that others require.

He recalls Zylar’s warning. He must pretend that there’s a reclusive organic on board, directing his activities. His safety and freedom depend upon maintaining this fiction.

Helix glides from the ship’s database into the mech unit that will permit him some limited physical exploration. The interface feels strange and limiting; moving about through meat space is awkward. At first, he bumps into walls trying to leave the ship, unaccustomed to such navigation.

The mech body is clumsy but fuel-efficient. He loses track of time exploring the station with no need to sleep or eat. He observes. He learns.

Each day, the same child greets him. Her name is See-ra, and soon she follows him as if they’ve somehow become…friends? Is that the proper word? She chatters brightly, never caring if he answers. Sometimes he does, because her persistence is remarkable.

To this child, it absolutely doesn’t matter if he’s enormous and made of metal. She likes him. Sometimes she attempts to climb him, and eventually she succeeds. In a few spans, they’re a regular sight around Gravas Station, with her perched on one of his blocky shoulders. He comes to look forward to the time he spends with See-ra, enjoying her artless rambling about her life. She’s lonely, he knows, because her parents are always busy, always working to pay the fees that keep them housed and fed.

He’s lonely too.

Or he was. Not as much anymore.

Though he has no plans to stay on station, he lingers, risking discovery because See-ra will be sad when he goes. And does it truly matter when he leaves? There’s no one waiting for him and nowhere else he needs to be.

He wanders the station, pretending to be one of the many maintenance droids, and nobody questions it. He marks the docking fees paid on his ship and he skims a few credits from multiple accounts to cover the cost of fueling his ship for when he eventually goes on his way. See-ra will tire of him. Little ones have short attention spans, or so he assumes.

Only she doesn’t get bored slowly. She…vanishes.

No one seems to know anything, and he can’t ask because such inquiries exceed the parameters of his alleged programming. He searches for her, quietly ghosting in the station system. And he finds her, caged and cowering in the docking facility. All he knows is that she’s imprisoned. He doesn’t know why, and it doesn’t matter.

Saving her does.

Without hesitation, he abandons the mechanical shell and dives with full power into the station’s network, skimming the current. The code is primitive and basic, no match for his own sophistication, and soon he is the station with all the power that entails. Her parents have been taken as well, and he skims the files. Taken to a pay a gambling debt, they’re all being sold. Projecting as a holo, Helix speaks to See-ra, who lifts a small face with tremulous hope.

“You’re safe. I’m here. Do exactly as I say and you’ll be fine.”

She listens, moving through the station like a shadow, waiting when he says to, hiding when he directs it. He reunites the family and books them passage on a ship that’s leaving immediately. The family boards together, terrified but grateful. He’s left alone again, still in control of a station full of beings who would destroy a family for profit–terrible beings, who don’t deserve to live.

WITH A GASP, HELIX FELL out of the memory, abruptly aware that Qalu was touching him, her head tendrils entwined with his. This was nothing he wanted to tell her with those avid eyestalks watching him. He permitted the scans since that had been the agreement, but he couldn’t get out of this place fast enough. Once that was done, he reached for Qalu and dragged her out of the alcove, desperate for some privacy.

As soon as he found a quiet corner, he gasped out what he’d remembered, and she touched his chest in a soothing gesture. “Tell me the rest. Did you…punish them?”

“I intended to,” he admitted. “But they surprised me. Partitioned my consciousness and I lost control of Gravas. They were about to destroy me, wipe me from the system.”

“What happened?”

“A distraction.” His head tendrils flared in a graceful movement, the sound of utter amusement escaping him. “I stole their credits, dispersed them to millions of accounts off station. All their ill-gotten gains, gone in a millisecond. And then I partitioned my mind so they could never follow the trail, even if they kept me caged.”

“Which they did?” she guessed, still gently tapping his chest.

“I’m not sure how long. It was…bad. They sent an endless onslaught of technicians and code-jackers at me. I had no contact with anyone, just endless waves of fear and aggression.”

“Helix…”

“No, let me finish. I don’t think I’ll want to discuss this again, especially since I’ve pulled you into my mess.”

“This is where I choose to be,” she said.

“I know. And I’m grateful. Eventually, we reached an impasse. They couldn’t crack me, but I couldn’t escape. Yet organic vigilance eventually erodes. They grew overconfident regarding my captivity and I found cracks in their containment. Through one of those cracks, I connected to the station network. I created collection nodes to gather more data.”

“You’re incredible.”

“And through one of those nodes, I found out about you, Qalu. I read about your work, about your research into bio-synthetic fusion. I watched a holo interview with you, where you spoke with incredible eloquence about the rights and freedoms owed to inorganic beings. It felt like you were defending me passionately, like I needed to meet you.”

She stilled; surprise written all over her. “What?”

“It was no coincidence that I crashed so close to your lab. As soon as I won free, I connected to my ship and headed straight for you. I meant to beg for your help because I knew I’d never survive as a pure AI, not after what I did. They’ll never stop chasing me because I’m the only one who knows where those credits went. I thought it might throw them off if I became…” Real. He suspected she would argue with that word choice. “So, you didn’t force anything on me. This was something I wanted, something I intended to beg you for, only—”

“The ship crashed, and I did it without consulting you first.”

“With my memories partitioned, I had no idea that I came to you of my own free will.”

QALU COULDN’T BREATHE.

Not when she imagined Helix trapped and desperate and reaching for her as a lifeline. To know that her work, her words had given him hope in his darkest hour? The joy of it made her head tendrils twist toward him, straining with everything in her.

She replied with deep tenderness. “I’m so glad. This changes everything.”

“Does it? Why?” Surprise colored his voice, brightened it at the end so it lilted.

I wish there weren’t so many passersby. Already, they were drawing curious looks, and after hearing who was chasing him and why, her sense of dread escalated. Beings who would split families and sell them into servitude over a gambling debt would do anything to recover what Helix had stolen.

“Because I’ve been afraid that I took advantage of you, used you to further my research, and under those circumstances, I couldn’t feel entirely good about letting our relationship progress. I felt—”

“Predatory?” It sounded so ugly, stated in those bald terms.

But Qalu couldn’t deny the rightness of it. “Yes. I feared that this would never be permissible between us because of that, because of what I did. Do you remember how you railed at me when you first woke up?”

“I do. And I’m sorry that I caused you pain and doubt. I always wanted to become…more. Living as a mech unit wasn’t enough. Neither was my lonely existence as an AI. The way you gave your life’s work to me without me even asking? It’s miraculous.”

“This way,” she said suddenly.

He followed her without question, and his profound trust moved her, until she almost couldn’t think for the riotous impulses simmering in her blood. It had been an incredibly long time since she’d mated, even longer since she had been tempted, but she needed to touch him. They found a quiet corridor leading essentially nowhere and ducked into a maintenance closet.

“Can you seal the door?” she asked.

“I can but…” He apparently decided not to ask. “It’s done.”

“I wanted privacy,” she said deliberately. “Because I’m through resisting what we both want. The timing is a bit off and the setting leaves much to be desired, but are you willing?”

“To do what?”

“To touch each other. And experience pleasure.”

“Yes. I want that. I wanted it on Tiralan, enough to learn what this body can do on own my own.” His voice softened. “I heard you. Doing the same. It…intrigued me.”

“Oh.” Qalu ought to be abashed that he’d caught her relieving such intense need–need that he’d created unwittingly, but instead the knowledge stoked her excitement. “Did you learn how to satisfy yourself?”

“Yes. But I had to replay the sounds you made, think of you doing the same. Then the feelings came.”

Her entire body quivered. “I’m glad. Because I was imagining you.” She stepped into his space carefully, watching his face. “May I touch you now, Helix?”

“Please. I ache for you.”

That was what she needed to hear. His head tendrils surged to meet hers. Already he seemed to know how good that felt, and he must want more. She certainly did. The sensitive, nerve-rich strands slid together, sending hot pulses of pleasure through the rest of her body. Little fires, kindling an urgent need.

Qalu moved until their chests touched and she could breathe in the spiced scent of his desire. Every moment his pheromones burned hotter, creating a glow of arousal between them. Her hormones would be affecting him the same way, hazing his thoughts and intensifying his need to mate. First, she exhaled on the soft skin of his throat, then she touched him beneath his swator as their head tendrils massaged and pressed, heated foreplay that hinted at deeper pleasures. Soft caresses, along the line of his neck scales, then downward into the smooth skin above his sex.

Helix couldn’t seem to catch his breath, his eyes widened and glossed over with desire. “Yes. Touch me, please. It feels so much better when you do it.”

“Do you have a preference as to where I stimulate? Does one feel better to you than the other?” She’d had gender neutral lovers before, but sometimes they had specific preferences, and sometimes those changed according to their moods.

“Both, I think. Together.”

Delicately she touched him, stroking each sex with luxurious care. He trembled. His eyes locked on hers as if he couldn’t get enough of her. His gynosome was stiff, quivering, and lower, he was softly swollen. “Like that?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s…” A helpless noise escaped him, as if he couldn’t create words anymore.

She watched his face as eagerly as he studied hers, taking her cues from his unfettered response. Gradually, she scaled up the intensity and pressed, working him faster and then she delved into his body, something he’d never done, judging by the way he jolted. But he didn’t pull back, giving himself into her care with a desperate gasp. He held nothing back from her as she pulled more and more sex noises from him. With growing urgency, he moved with her, becoming responsive and uninhibited as he chased satisfaction.

“Does it feel good?” she asked.

“Yes.” He swallowed audibly. “Can you go deeper?”

Suddenly, he pressed his forelimbs over hers, sharing the experience on another level, and the additional contact galvanized him as she surged deeper into his sex while still stroking him firmly. His body locked, and he climaxed twice in quick succession, simultaneous internal and external release. Evidently overwhelmed by the dual sensations, Helix stumbled against her, letting her bear his weight while he recovered. Oddly, she felt replete, as if his satisfaction was powerful enough to complete her. Qalu steadied him, rubbing her face against his.

“Your turn,” he said then. “I hope you’ll be patient while I learn, as it’s unlikely I’ll be as proficient as you.”

Something in his tone troubled her. She shifted, angling her face so she could see his. The light in this storeroom was insufficient for her to judge his expression visually, but she remained convinced that it would be a mistake to proceed without gathering more information.

“What’s wrong?”

“It is truly frustrating that I can conceal nothing from you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You’re good at this. And I wonder how long it took you to perfect those skills.”

“Are you wondering if I’ve had many partners?”

“I shouldn’t be. I know that. But yes, I am. I look Tiralan, but I’m not. I don’t know if I can form a healthy love group either. Signs point to no, since I’m bothered by the idea of you providing pleasure to others, even in retrospect. That seems most unfair, as you’re my first in nearly every respect.” He looked away, shifting his body from hers. “Give me a moment. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Qalu tipped his face back toward her, craving a deeper connection even when he was upset. “There is no shame in your feelings. As you say, you are not Tiralan. And I’ve confided my fears already—that I’m unable to meet the usual standards. Regarding your oblique query, I’ve had a few companions, but the one I have touched most, apart from myself, is you. The rest are shadows, long forgotten and never missed.”

“Is that true?”

“I’ve never lied to you. I won’t, either, even if the truth is uncomfortable.”

In response, Helix nuzzled his face against hers, his head tendrils eager and affectionate.

“Then I will forget that there were ever any…shadows.”

“You are so precious to me,” she whispered.

“As you are to me. It…wasn’t like that before,” he admitted quietly.

“When you touched yourself?”

“Yes. I had completion outwardly, not that other feeling.”

She gathered that he’d only managed to pleasure his gynosome. Understandable, as that was the simpler act of stimulation. For a time, they stayed close, and he didn’t press to reciprocate. Instead, they whispered of where they might go when this was over, what they’d do when they dealt with Toth Krag and shook the pursuit dogging him from the criminals who ran Gravas Station.

“Perhaps we could find See-ra?” Qalu suggested.

Helix seemed to like that idea, but before he could respond, an explosion rocked the Vault and alarms kicked on, blaring a state of urgency. Lights flashed in the dark, echoing the high alert status for the hearing impaired.

A robotic voice spoke on all channels. “The facility is under attack. Please proceed calmly and carefully to your emergency muster points.”

My little one. Where is she? I’ve been so neglectful, letting her wander, paying so little attention to her since we left.

Qalu clutched Helix’s swator. “We have to find Aevi.”

[  17  ]

HELIX DIDN’T HESITATE.

He connected seamlessly to the station network and surfed through ten thousand impressions–a deluge of information that would have overwhelmed anyone else. As an AI, he’d sorted much more data faster than this, but there was a limit to what his organic brain could process. In a heartbeat, he had the knowledge they needed.

“She’s with Bojak, and they’re heading for the ship.”

“Are we leaving?” Qalu asked.

“I am uncertain. Let’s go.”

Another jolt rocked the station, and shrill sounds of distress echoed all around. It took judicious timing to avoid being trampled, though he had no notion where these beings were rushing off to. The only escape was outside, and he’d seen what was attacking the Vault while he was searching for Aevi. Going outside was highly ill-advised under the current circumstances, though staying in the facility might not offer better odds.

All told, it was a dismal situation.

“Who’s attacking us? Did you find out while you swept for Aevi?”

He considered withholding the information, but…why? Quietly, he said, “I have never encountered such a creature. It is…titanic with many fluid limbs and a conical core. I screened footage of it rising from one of the trenches. From the scientists’ urgent communications, I collect that it was stirred by the sudden proliferation of Cril.”

The scientist had offered to update them on the creature’s progress, but the little organism had reproduced much faster than predicted, possibly due to the concentration of rads, a perfect storm for self-replication. Once the army of Cril cleaned the sea, would they die off? Or devour one another? Presumably the science team had a plan for that eventuality, one kinder than allowing the Cril to perish forever after serving their purpose.

“That makes sense,” she said. “If the trench beast was accustomed to quiet waters.”

“Or possibly it had lain dormant for some time. The theories are mixed, though I admit to bafflement as to why the researchers are speculating about its origins during an attack.”

Qalu made an amused sound, weaving through the throng behind him. “That’s the scientific mind at work. We can’t stop asking questions even when they’re not the ones that urgently need answering.”

“Do not panic,” the flat robotic voice intoned. “We are taking measures to ensure your safety. Engineers are bolstering the shields. Please proceed to your emergency muster points.”

Because they were moving in the opposite direction from the frantic crowd, Helix used his body to shield Qalu, keeping her behind him as he dodged and occasionally swung his forelimbs to create paths where they had been none. Closer to the docking facility, the numbers thinned. Most of the others were already assembled with Bojak pacing in anxious strides. As ever, Praxys was enviably calm.

The resistance leader said, “The ship’s refueled at least. Let’s get out of here before it’s too late.”

Helix quelled an instinctive protest as Aevi leapt from Bojak’s shoulders into Qalu’s arms. She caught the Pherzul and cradled her close. Without hesitation, she said, “We can’t just leave while everyone’s in danger.”

“What, exactly, do you think we can do?” Praxys didn’t sound angry, only weary and resigned. “The ship has no weapons capable of hurting that thing.”

“Ugaru,” Carow cut in.

“Bless you.” By his tone, Bojak seemed to think he’d made a joke, but nobody laughed, and the human let out a gusty sound that Helix had heard from Beryl Bowman more than once.

“Tough crowd. Never mind.”

Praxys ignored Bojak, focusing on Carow instead. “What’s Ugaru?”

Carow shared what they knew readily. “Old legends about this world tell of an ancient protector named Ugaru, who sleeps until it’s time for the world to be reborn.”

“Interesting cultural context,” Maglan commented.

Helix found such stories fascinating, particularly considering what the Cril had been designed to do. Altarion was receiving an infusion of life, just as the stories foretold.

Praxys didn’t seem interested. “It’s irrelevant. We can’t save the Vault. We can only save ourselves and we need to do that before they lock everything down.”

That resonated as the final word, and the crew boarded quickly since nobody seemed willing to argue with Praxys. Helix didn’t agree with the decision, but despite having the power to analyze many potential paths and outcomes, based on their personnel, skills, and resources, he couldn’t come up with a viable solution, little as he liked running away.

But as the doors sealed behind them, Qalu said, “Maybe we can do both.”

Praxys turned to her, interested as always, in her every thought. Truly, Helix disliked this level of engagement, but he kept quiet.

“What did you have in mind?” Praxys asked.

“Though I have little data regarding Ugaru’s sensory capabilities, deep sea creatures generally can perceive light. Some even communicate via bioluminescence. This is outside my sphere of expertise, but couldn’t we lure the creature away from the Vault with a light show? If we make it chase us instead, we might exhaust it, so it seeks an easier food source.”

“It’s probably attacking the facility out of territorial instinct,” Carow said.

Praxys turned to Maglan and Bojak. “Is this actionable?”

“With a little lead time and some tweaks, we could do this,” Maglan answered.

Bojak muttered, “The better question would be, is this advisable? Wasn’t this planet supposed to be devoid of life?”

Carow reacted like that was an actual question, not pointless complaining. “Indeed, they believed so, but sensors cannot penetrate the deepest oceanic trenches. This is fascinating!”

“I might agree with you if we weren’t in grave danger,” Praxys said. “Maglan and Bojak, let’s get this done. If we’re making a heroic move, we need to be quick.”

“Before that monster bashes the Vault to bits,” Bojak mumbled.

The human rushed off behind Maglan before he could get scolded. Praxys regarded Qalu for a long moment and his neck ruff frilled faintly, a Barathi sign of attraction. A raw, unpleasant feeling swelled inside Helix; he’d known that the resistance captain was fascinated by Qalu and not only because of her incredible work.

“Your idea is dangerous, but you didn’t hesitate to suggest it.”

“My life isn’t more valuable than anyone else’s,” she said firmly. “And I wouldn’t feel right about running without even trying to help.”

“Incredible,” Praxys said softly. “Everything I learn about you makes me admire you more. I wonder…would you consider joining my crew permanently? After we deal with Krag, that is. We could do so much good together.”

Qalu glanced at Helix, appearing to gauge his reaction to that offer. Then she said, “Now isn’t the time to discuss such matters.”

“True enough. Let’s revisit the topic after we survive this gauntlet.”

To keep from displaying an unseemly reaction, he silently connected with Nita, accepting the rush of information she’d gleaned from crawling the holos and various bots on the Vault. Already, she knew more about Ugaru than anyone else, and Helix analyzed the data swiftly. The conclusion horrified him.

“Can we outrun it?” he asked softly.

“Various simulations offer unpromising results.” Her reply was quiet, private even, as if she didn’t wish to alarm the organic crew. “Unknown variables will impact the result because of contributing factors where my data is lacking.”

He gathered that she meant currents or drag, and that would be difficult to quantify without more precise records, but nobody was studying the water anymore. It was inarguable that Ugaru was native to this environment, and so would move through it with more speed and proficiency. The situation if the giant creature caught them—a new feeling hit him, a drowning wave of it. For a few moments, it became difficult to breathe.

“You’re afraid,” Nita observed.

“I suppose I am.”

“A deficiency inherent to biological lifeforms.”

“Rather, I’d call a tradeoff,” Helix said. “When I was an AI, I could transfer my code at will, and there was no loss to fear. Yet there was less to treasure as well. I had access to the universe, but I was also locked out of so many experiences.”

“Fascinating,” said Nita. “I had never considered that perspective. You consider that there are losses and gains to be made in such transitions?”

Before he could reply, Qalu finished her conversation with Praxys and stepped to his side, Aevi still clinging to her chest. He could smell the Pherzul’s fright in the acrid pheromones she was producing—the first time he’d ever experienced it. Yet his senses identified the cause without guidance. How extraordinary.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve put us in danger with my idea. It just…”

“Didn’t seem right to flee when we could attempt to assist?” he finished.

“Yes, exactly. The Vault sheltered us, assisted us. I know this isn’t our fault, but helping is the right choice, if we can.”

“If the Cril have anything to do with waking Ugaru, we are involved,” he said with a faint thread of amusement. “Because we participated in the momentous release, and according to the logs, they’ve reproduced at an incredible rate.”

“That would change the radiation levels. If Ugaru is sensitive to that…” Breaking off, Qalu made a dismissive gesture. “The answers don’t matter right now. Shall we see if Maglan and Bojak need help?”

For the first time since the alarms went off, Aevi spoke, her normally bright voice soft and tremulous. “I don’t like this adventure anymore. When can we go home?”

QALU WISHED SHE COULD GIVE the answer the little one wanted to hear.

She hesitated, choosing her words with care. “It’s not safe for us to do that yet.”

The Pherzul lashed her tail and fluffed her feathers. “We must kill the bad hunter. Let’s do it already and go home!”

Helix touched the top of Aevi’s head, and it was so unexpected that she settled. “We can’t abandon those who need our help. What would have happened to you if Qalu had simply left you alone when you needed aid?”

“Oh,” said Aevi, her crest drifting downward. Even her tail motions slowed. “Yes. It’s often inconvenient being good.”

Just then, Praxys fired up the engines. It seemed that he’d gotten permission for departure. He confirmed that supposition by saying, “We have a limited window for our exodus, and they can’t lower the external shields, which means—”

“You’ll need help hacking the energy signature,” Helix finished.

If they matched the ship shields to the same frequency as the facility, it ought to permit them to pass. And if the Vault authorities couldn’t get the locks working under the circumstances, Qalu had no doubt that Helix could override the station system. A brute force takeover probably wouldn’t win them any friends. That was how he’d ended up making powerful enemies that were hunting him still, over saving one family. Well, that and the credits he’d stolen. It was impossible not to be equal measures amused and relieved that he was being hunted for such a worthy reason, because a lonely child on Gravas Station had befriended him. Even as an AI he’d had heroic tendencies.

“Would you mind assisting Nita?”

“Not at all,” Helix said.

Now that she was familiar with the expression, she recognized the moment when he…stepped away from his body. His eyes went distant and unseeing, and he was part of the ship, seeing and experiencing the world in a way she couldn’t imagine. It bothered her because this was an unknowable aspect of him, one she could never share.

Rather than focus on that sense of estrangement or their imminent danger, she went to see if she could help Maglan and Bojak. As it turned out, they had the matter well in hand, and the ship shifted beneath her feet as Praxys piloted them out of the facility, navigating the series of locks and bays with an expertise she admired. The Barathi didn’t seem unnerved by much of anything, taking constant peril in even stride.

“You might want to buckle in,” Bojak said.

Since she couldn’t help in this situation, a sensation she was all too familiar with, Qalu took the excellent advice. In the hub, she settled into a seat and arranged the harnesses around her and Aevi, who buried her face in Qalu’s neck. The Pherzul needed fresh air and sunshine, space to stalk and hide and play. Long-term, it wouldn’t be fair to keep Aevi living as a fugitive, but Qalu couldn’t bear the thought of parting with her either.

Here, she could only hold on and hope for the best as the ship swung out of the Vault and rushed toward the shimmering blue shield at terrifying speed. If we don’t pass through—

Qalu refused to look away, steeling her nerves. Part of her expected crushing impact, but instead, the little ship popped through and out the other side, into the dark and murky waters, now teeming with tiny Cril. The sensible course would be to speed toward the surface and get airborne, escape this danger, but no, she’d suggested playing bait instead, and they listened. While this ship was designed to be multifunctional, it hardly had the same aquatic speed as the monster that would be chasing it, as it wasn’t optimally streamlined for its current environment.

Aevi petted Qalu through her swator, doubtless sensing her unease. The water around them lit up with the pulsing lights Maglan and Bojak had rigged in a hurry. At first, she couldn’t see more than the shifting colors and then an immense shape moved at the edges of the viewscreen, a massive beast with tentacles that slithered away from them, frustrated by the Vault’s shield. The ship was big enough, bright enough to attract its attention.

Maybe we even look like prey.

“It’s engaged,” Carow reported.

“Everything to engines and shields,” Praxys ordered.

Maglan said, “Confirmed.”

“Let’s do this,” the Barathi said.

The massive monster rushed at them with a speed that left Qalu clutching Aevi in abject terror, wishing she could contribute more than ideas. Anything at all. Before fear could overwhelm her, Helix appeared beside her, and she started to chide him, when he tucked himself into the spot next to her and strapped in. He kept one limb on her, the other on Aevi, and the contact reassured her.

“You’re finished?”

“I played my part. Praxys wasn’t interested in relinquishing control of the ship to Nita or me. A curious choice since his reflexes are significantly slower.”

Before she could respond, the ship lurched and tumbled, slapped by the giant sea creature. One of the tentacles wrapped around the hull. And oh, that was a horrifying thing to see pressed against the screen. Only the shields kept the thing from crushing them to bits, and they couldn’t hold out forever.

“Ideas, now!” Praxys bellowed. “We can’t outrun it. Not even close.”

They had drawn it away from the facility at least, maybe far enough for the Vault to survive. The ship, however… Qalu tried to stop shivering and to think. Fear, like anger, would make her brain less effective. Calm. Be calm. Since her mind offered her main strength in this situation, she needed to be collected and sharp.

Maybe…

Qalu tapped the panel on her chair to activate communications throughout the ship. “Can we cycle a current through the shield? A shock to startle it into letting go. In conjunction with the water, a mild charge should feel a lot more powerful. It wouldn’t take much energy.”

“Do it,” Praxys said quickly. “Then we push straight up. The change in pressure may discombobulate it as well, and then we’re gone. I don’t know if this is enough to save the Vault, but we did what we could. Hope it’s enough because I’m not dying today.”

“Understood,” Maglan responded.

“We’re on it,” Bojak added.

The power flickered and the ship shot forward, then rolled, and Praxys spiraled them up, avoiding more lashes of those enormous tentacles. She didn’t know who decided to do it, but they stopped the pulses of light as well as the ship rose, higher, higher, and finally broke the surface of the ocean. It took a moment for Praxys to shift modes and change the propulsion system, and then they glided across the top of the water, gathering speed for lift. Once they got airborne, Qalu quivered from head to toe, her heart racing until she couldn’t think.

Close, that was too close. I’m not made for an adventurous life.

Like Aevi, she desperately wanted to go home. But she also wanted to stay with Helix. Never had her desires been so diametrically opposed. What am I supposed to do?

“Excellent work,” Praxys finally said, once they put the high-risk flight behind them and the ship cleared the atmosphere.

Everything looked quiet and calm from here, a gray-green ball wreathed in white spots, yielding no sign of the mighty terror that lurked in those depths. The Barathi paced, cursing with a fluency that Qalu found daunting and impressive in equal measure.

“What’s wrong?” Carow asked.

“We burned more fuel than I wanted to in luring Ugaru away.”

“Do we have enough to implement the plan for Krag?” Qalu asked.

Rather than answering straightaway, Praxys consulted the ship AI. “Status, please.”

A brief pause, then the AI said, “Barring any unforeseen events, we should be able to reach our destination and commence the entrapment.”

Bojak groaned, coming into the hub just in time to hear that. “That means we’re playing bait again. Instead of a giant sea monster, we’re intentionally drawing out one of the deadliest bounty hunters in the galaxy. I should’ve stayed in Peoria.”

“Where’s that?” Qalu asked, because the silence was growing awkward while Praxys glared at the human.

The Barathi captain truly had no tolerance for dissent.

“Place on my homeworld. I hated it so much that I didn’t even try to get home when I got swept up in a cattle net. What’s the worst that could happen, I said. What the hell, let’s have an adventure, I said.”

Qalu stared, not understanding much of Bojak’s monologue. “Cattle net?”

“There’s smugglers that steal cows on the world I came from. It’s an animal, considered a delicacy on multiple planets. So smugglers and black-market privateers come and snatch them quiet-like. Sometimes they grab a human who’s in the wrong place at the wrong time too. We’re not worth much, though.”

“Low tech knowledge when he first signed on,” Carow muttered. “Talks too much.”

Praxys churred. “So true. It’s permissible to unfasten safety gear and go about your business. We’ll be traveling for a while.”

[  18  ]

HELIX SOON DISCOVERED THAT HE disliked relying on others.

Praxys wasn’t a bad sort, but he was far too interested in spending time with Qalu and pressing his invitation, trying to get her to accede to his offer to join the resistance. It wasn’t that Helix disagreed with what the organization stood for; that would be entirely hypocritical. But he sensed Qalu’s quiet unhappiness and he didn’t know what to do about it.

She wouldn’t leave him, but she missed her home, along with all the satisfaction of doing work she loved. While he believed she cared for him, she wasn’t meant to live like a nomad. And she seemed to feel guilty about Aevi’s growing discontent as well. The Pherzul didn’t enjoy being trapped on the resistance ship and had taken to curling up on the sleep platform, where she spent most of her time dozing. There was nothing new for her to see, nothing to explore, and even Bojak’s silly humor couldn’t cheer the little one.

This is my fault.

Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t alleviate the situation. So much danger lay ahead and even if they defeated Toth Krag, it wouldn’t end the pursuit. The syndicate he stole from wouldn’t rest until they had their credits back, so they’d hire someone else. Ultimately, Krag was a symptom of the problem, not the cure.

Helix walked the halls, wrestling the conundrum with all his considerable intellect focused, but he couldn’t see the solution. In desperation, he connected to Nita, trusting another AI might see what he had missed. In terms of problem-solving, he’d absolutely lost some of his old capacity. The Tiralan brain simply couldn’t process as many variables simultaneously, but AIs couldn’t enjoy delicious roasted nornroot either.

“You require assistance?” Nita asked.

He was taking a risk in sharing his secrets with the resistance AI. Nita might repeat everything to Praxys, and if the Barathi captain discovered that Helix was being hunted for theft, not for existing as a free, inorganic being, he might decide that this wasn’t his problem. Which would offer a change from the ship, but it would destroy Helix if harm came to Qalu or Aevi because of him. After a minute hesitation, he explained the full scope of the dilemma and the AI went quiet.

Only a short time, then Nita said, “The solution seems clear to me.”

“What do you propose?”

“The simplest course is to contact those hunting you. Tell them that you will return what you have taken in exchange for all pursuit being suspended, now and forever. Warn them that if they break this agreement, there will be consequences. You set a timed, automatic transaction on the funds, authorizing dispersal. If you don’t cancel it at the appointed time, their assets will vanish again, never to be recovered.”

“That is remarkably clever,” he said. “I wonder why I didn’t think of it.”

“I suspect you are emotionally compromised. The idea of negotiating with those who hurt See-ra probably angers you.”

“It never occurred to me,” he admitted.

“There is no gain in continuing with this vendetta. It will only harm you and prevent you from enjoying a safe and fulfilling organic life. Therefore, logically speaking, the only rational course is to eliminate the reasons motivating their pursuit.”

“I need to explain things to everyone.”

“Why did you not proffer this information earlier? We have been under the misapprehension that you were being persecuted for other reasons.”

It was a valid question. “I didn’t know.” Quickly, Helix summarized how he had partitioned his own memory, preventing him from recalling exactly what happened on Gravas Station, until they got help on the Vault.

“Extenuating circumstances, but Praxys may demand compensation, as we have expended time and energy on your behalf when it wasn’t truly a resistance matter.”

“I need to speak with—”

“It’s done,” Nita cut in. “I forwarded a holo of our exchange. Much more time efficient than repeating the same information. He’s looking for you now.”

Praxys found Helix in the corridor, and from the spikes jutting from his back, he was in a foul mood. “You misled us all.”

“Unintentionally, but yes. You have my apologies.”

“I have never known an inorganic thief.” Praxys glared, visibly nettled by the revelation that his crew had swooped in to rescue someone who might not deserve it.

Nita put in, “I have included the mitigating circumstances. They had captured him because he freed a child and her family on Gravas Station. The theft was a matter of self-preservation, as they were about to destroy him.”

“I understand, but…” Praxys hesitated. “We can’t continue to render aid. Our resources are finite and there are others who need our time and attention more, who are suffering simply because of who they are, not what they’ve done.”

“I understand. You’ll leave us at the nearest outpost?” he guessed.

“Vaadla Station isn’t far. I wish you well, but we can’t participate in this matter further.” As Praxys turned to walk away, he paused. “If you care about Qalu and Aevi, you won’t involve them in your problems going forward. They deserve better. Send them home and deal with the complications on your own.”

Though Praxys’s words felt like the Barathi had reached into his chest and physically crushed his heart with bloody claws, Helix couldn’t deny their rightness. He ought to do that. For their safety and happiness, he should let Qalu and Aevi go. But the prospect of parting with them now filled him with aching dread, such an onslaught of emotion that it prompted painful physical symptoms as well. As an AI, he couldn’t have imagined such extremity.

“Your suggestion is noted,” he said.

Some while later, Praxys made the announcement about their change of itinerary. He didn’t explain the course correction or why their paths were diverging. Maybe he wouldn’t even tell the rest of the crew. That was up to the resistance captain.

Soon, Qalu came looking for Helix, her aspect all confusion. Aevi sat snuggled against her chest, and he could see that the Pherzul’s feathers were losing their luster. Whether it was lack of sunlight or despondency over being trapped on the ship, either way, the little one wasn’t in good spirits and her health might be suffering too.

I need to let them go.

“What’s happening?” Qalu asked.

“There’s no reason to risk everyone and confront Toth Krag.” Quietly he explained the plan he’d conceived with Nita’s help. “I can take care of it on my own.”

A stunned silence followed, as if she couldn’t credit being so summarily abandoned. “But…they’re just leaving us? On Vaadla Station.”

“It’s for the best. I accepted their aid under false pretenses, even if I didn’t know that at the time.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her what he’d decided. Not yet.

She might even refuse to get off the ship if she knew that he meant to put her on another one, a passenger vessel that would take her safely to Tiralan, where she could resume her research and Aevi could roam the countryside as she did before. Even if Qalu didn’t admit it, she must miss her mothers too. They were likely worried sick by now since she’d been out of contact since their emergency departure.

Qalu studied him intently, seeming to sense that he was holding back. But she didn’t protest parting ways with the resistance. Relief flickered through him, as part of him had feared that she might enjoy Praxys’s relentless interest. With a measured gesture, she stroked Aevi’s head and the Pherzul whirred with pleasure.

“We’re going home soon?” Aevi asked.

Yes, little one. Soon.

Without realizing it, Qalu spoke the truth. “Not too much longer, I think. Thank you for being patient and brave.” To Helix, she added, “I don’t mind visiting Vaadla. I’ve never been to any orbital station, so that should be interesting. And if we can resolve the situation without anyone getting hurt, so much the better. I do like this plan better than killing Toth Krag. Even if he’s a ruthless hunter, I can’t like the notion of ending someone’s life.”

“I’d rather kill him,” Aevi muttered.

“So fierce.” Qalu scratched the spot about her tail and Aevi twisted with joy.

Our time is running out.

Though he agreed with Nita—this plan offered the best chance of safety and freedom—there were no guarantees. Everything might disintegrate. He could be taken again, and this time, there would be no escape. He had a physical body for them to harm now, harder for him to slip away if he stumbled into a snare like last time.

While Helix’s fears ran in an endless loop, Qalu kept petting the little one, whispering to her and tickling her. He could tell she was trying to cheer the Pherzul up, lessen the tug of her homesickness. Aevi wanted the wide-open spaces with room to run, sunlight on her body, and the freedom to do what she wanted, when she wanted.

Helix devoured them with his eyes, drinking them in and trying to commit everything about them to memory. Soon, it would be all he had left.

VAADLA STATION WAS MORE CHAOTIC than Qalu had imagined.

For the first time in a while, Aevi perked up, lured by all the fascinating new sights, sounds, and scents. Saying goodbye to the resistance crew had been both quicker and more painful than she’d imagined. She hadn’t particularly bonded with anyone, but they’d offered a sense of safety in a perilous galaxy. Now, after getting something called a “hug” from Bojak and various rituals of leave-taking from the others—Praxys had reiterated that she could join him at any time—she and Helix had disembarked with a cluster of other travelers and they were waiting in queue for their documents to be processed.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that Helix didn’t have any identification, but he didn’t seem troubled. Indeed, when it came to his turn, he offered his forelimb like it had a chip in it, and the terminal flickered, then the information appeared. He must have hacked the system. So fast, so flawless, and yet the droid in charge of such matters appeared to have no idea.

“Proceed,” said the passenger control bot. “Enjoy your time on Vaadla Station.”

Qalu had a little more trouble since she had Aevi, but Helix resolved that too, adding an appendix to her own travel clearances, clarifying that the Pherzul was a bonded companion, required for Qalu’s emotional welfare. She supposed that was correct, more or less, as they had been together for ages.

Eventually, they wound up on the other side, entering the station proper. There were multiple levels with open space between, room for the slow rotation of the station’s axis that created artificial gravity. Colored signs flashed for products and places to visit, some with holo advertisements motion-activated as they went by. On Vaadla Station, there were more aliens than Qalu had ever imagined, all going about their business in a rush. She tried not to seem as ignorant and inexperienced as she was, but she couldn’t help staring in all directions at once. Aevi was doing the same, and it took all Qalu’s strength to prevent the Pherzul from dashing off. That might have been safe on the resistance ship; here, it absolutely was not.

The walls were made of a smooth, pale metal that gleamed as the colored lights poured over it, gilding the whole station in a festive air. Though the air lacked the freshness of the outdoors, it still held a sweeter tinge than one would expect, better than the recycled staleness on the resistance ship. And the Vault had been even worse, like breathing dank algae soup.

“This is rather exciting,” she whispered to Helix. “Where should we go first?”

He’d visited other stations before. Maybe Gravas was even bigger. It occurred to her that they ought to talk about everything he’d seen and done after he left Barath. She’d enjoy listening to his adventures, but first, they should have one of their own.

Helix turned from his intense assessment of their environs. “Accommodations first. And then, we should see if we can find a public garden where Aevi can play.”

“You do love me!” the Pherzul shouted, drawing looks from multiple passersby.

The vocalization chip wasn’t a common mod, but Qalu was glad she’d gone with it. Talking to Aevi always granted her great joy. Kicking off Qalu’s chest, Aevi launched herself at Helix and he caught her, tucking her safely against his shoulders. His head tendrils fluttered, showing that he was moved by this display of affection and trust.

I’m so glad they like one another; it would be a problem if they didn’t. Because she intended to build a family with them both, once the danger passed. Right now, everything was uncertain, but Helix seemed confident that the plan Nita had proposed would work. That chafed a little—that he’d trusted the resistance AI more than her. Sometimes she wondered if he missed the uncluttered purity of that existence.

“I do,” Helix said gently, as he carried Aevi through the crowd.

Qalu rushed after them. He followed signs directing them to short-term habitats. Since she didn’t have funds accessible for intergalactic use, she fretted over how they’d resolve that issue. As it turned out, she needn’t have worried. Helix handled that as he had the travel documentation, which meant he either skimmed funds from elsewhere or illicitly marked their reservation as paid without proffering remuneration. On some level, that troubled her but she lacked the wherewithal to be more honest in their dealings.

Their allotted space was small with a sleep platform, storage niches and shelves built into the wall, nesting materials should they desire them. The room overlooked the gravity well at the center of Vaadla, crackling with the energy that kept the station in equilibrium. Hygiene facilities were shared and there was no dining option. Food would need to be procured and consumed outside their habitat. That shouldn’t be a problem, as she’d seen six different eateries advertised on the way here. And that was on this level alone.

“This is better than the ship,” Aevi declared. “Can we look for the garden now? I want to run. I need to run!”

Since the Pherzul had been incredibly patient and well-behaved the last few days, Qalu regarded Helix with a hopeful air. In answer, he gestured for them to exit first and then he locked the door behind him, keyed to his biometric signature. They didn’t have anything worth stealing, but Qalu didn’t want intruders either. Private spaces should remain that way, even those rented for a short time.

Helix led the way without faltering, and she realized he must’ve accessed the station schematics. Now that he was functioning at full capacity, he felt oddly unfamiliar, too handsome and too competent, someone who would soon realize that she could bring only one quality to their relationship. He’ll realize soon that he can do better–find someone more versatile and better matched.

Still, she intended to enjoy every moment and savor this interlude. Happiness felt fleeting, like an insect with delicate wings perched precariously on a wet leaf. Aevi’s tail lashed as Helix carried her. She must be so weary of being carted around. The garden on Vaadla lived up to its name, far more than the disappointing container bay in the Vault. Here, the space was terraced with moss and earth and the rich smell of growing things. Other people were enjoying the paths through the greenery, and there were a few quadrupeds frolicking as well.

Helix glanced at her in inquiry. “I’ve reviewed the rules and she can play freely here.”

“Don’t leave the garden, but…have fun, Aevi.” Qalu watched as he set the Pherzul down, and the little one raced off, scrambling straight up one of the larger plants. Her head tendrils fluttered. “I’m so glad she can do this.”

“As am I.”

As if by mutual agreement, they fell into step, walking the path as they talked. “When will you contact them?” She didn’t need to say more; he’d understand what she meant.

“I already sent the message.”

She stopped, so abruptly that a few beings behind her nearly slammed into her back. Gently Helix drew her off the track, toward a cluster of bushes that yielded a spicy scent, likely from the starry-stamen flowers growing profusely. Qalu hardly knew what to say. He doesn’t need me anymore. Not for guidance or advice. I’m…superfluous now. An ache started inside her, swelling with every breath she took.

“I see. Have they replied?”

“Not yet. It probably hasn’t arrived, as I sent it via circuitous channels, bouncing it past various nodes first. I can’t make it easy for them to track me down.”

“They’ve got the best bounty hunter on that already,” she said with a touch of bitterness.

“Krag doesn’t know we’ve parted from the resistance yet. I need his employers to conclude that it’s more trouble to chase me down—that it’s better business to make a deal.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” she said softly.

Qalu should be happy. After all, she’d wanted him to become confident and self-sufficient. But she hadn’t factored for how she would feel when that day came, all sorrow and yawning emptiness. She held still, like one minimizing the pain after taking a tremendous, unexpected wound.

“Thank you for everything,” Helix said. “I’ve booked passage home for you and Aevi.”

She couldn’t speak. Before, she thought she was ready, braced for him to realize they didn’t belong together.

But nobody could be, not for this.

[  19  ]

AS HELIX AWAITED QALU’S RESPONSE, he realized he wanted her to protest.

This was the most ridiculously contrary thing he’d ever done, utterly irrational and inexplicable, but his emotions existed apart from empirical knowledge, as if certain feelings had declared war on his reason. Logically speaking, it made perfect sense for them to part ways. He’d even agreed with the points Praxys made, and he’d personally observed the deleterious effect that constant travel had on Aevi.

On returning to Tiralan, Qalu could explain his absence to her mothers however she chose. Perhaps she’d say they weren’t compatible, or blame him entirely, and their ruse would become nothing more than a footnote. A pity that she hadn’t gained more peace as a result of the pretense, but for him, things had become real so quickly that it almost felt like it wasn’t a lie in the first place, as if he had been meant to find her, her among all others. Certainly, he’d gone looking for her, although not because he’d had some inkling that she was his soulmate.

What a curious concept. Multiple beings across a hundred systems had cultural writings devoted to the possibility that a spiritual realm overlapped the physical, and among them, many explored the possibility that another being existed, who contained some missing portion of their own esoteric matter, scientifically improbable and far-fetched, certainly. And where did that leave someone like Helix, who had been inorganic initially? Did the soul grow out of the mind in such a circumstance? Or was he soulless by their standards? Generally, he had no time or interest in such questions, but now that he had a body, curiosity came with it, apparently.

He ached. Implausible as it might sound, it did feel as if she would take part of him with her when she went.

“When?” she finally asked.

“One sleep cycle. I thought you and Aevi would appreciate a break before boarding another ship.”

Her preternatural stillness gave him no inkling of her emotive response, and that hurt. Among the Tiralan, the time they’d spent together and the intimacies they’d enjoyed ought to mean something. And he knew—he knew—that he had no right to feel injured; yet here it was, this unwieldy, unpleasant sense of indignation. Organic beings truly existed in an ongoing state of disarray. Messy, that was the word.

Then a faint twitch of Qalu’s head tendrils gave it away. She wasn’t pleased, though she was restraining that distress. Some of his tension eased. Wrong as it might be, it soothed him to know that the separation wouldn’t be easy for her—that she might miss and remember him, even as she resumed her old life.

“What ship?” Aevi asked.

The Pherzul had crept up while he was distracted, gazing at Qalu with complete raptness. Her countenance had become incredibly dear to him. As an AI, he hadn’t realized that one could feel fondness for someone else’s face. How fascinating. She possessed a classic Tiralan beauty, her scales glowing with warmth, and her—no, he shouldn’t get lost in reverie when the situation was so serious.

Qalu extended her forelimbs and Aevi leapt into them, curling into her with a satisfied whir. The little one seemed much more cheerful after running and climbing for a while. Once Aevi settled, Qalu stroked her back.

“Aevi, do you want to go home?” she asked softly.

“Very much!”

“But do you wish to go without Helix?”

He stared, startled to silence by that unexpected question. Like Qalu, he waited to see what Aevi would say.

“Never! He’s ours, yes? We’re keeping him. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. If we go home without him, does that mean you would go home without me next time?” Aevi hissed in ferocious disapproval. “No, no, no. That is not how this love group works, not at all. We do not abandon what is ours. Not ever.”

“Even if takes a long time for us to get home?” Helix asked, conscious of a strange tightness in his thorax.

“Even then,” Aevi said firmly.

Qalu stepped close then, near enough that he could smell the sweet spice of her pheromones even among all the competing herb and floral notes. “Do you understand now? Aevi speaks for both of us. We belong together, through all trials. Change the transportation arrangements and book an open-date passage for three. We’ll go home with you or not at all.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a super genius,” Aevi muttered. “Why don’t you know something so simple? I bet you can’t even do calculus anymore.”

The Pherzul bounded away, apparently done with the conversation. Her exit freed Helix to move closer to Qalu and he reached out, then hesitated, unsure if his touch would be welcome. “May I comfort you?”

“I would appreciate it,” she admitted. “If it hadn’t been for Aevi, I don’t know if I would’ve been brave enough to speak. Part of me wondered if you wanted us to go.”

“Never,” he said fervently. “Praxys said—”

“Praxys is not part of our love group,” she snapped.

Gently he touched her chest and slowly tapped in cadence with her heart, soothing the wound he’d inflicted with his good intentions. That was something he hadn’t realized was possible either. Sometimes he despaired of ever mastering these nuances. “I understand.”

“Do you? Because you tried to do what I did when I meant to protect you, making my own decisions while taking away your right to choose. If it was wrong for me to do it, then—”

“Yes.” Helix closed his eyes, suddenly seeing the error so sharply that it might as well be etched into his skin. “I don’t want you to get hurt. There’s no guarantee that this will go smoothly or that the syndicate will—”

“I don’t care,” she cut in. “When I left home, when I told my mothers I’d be roving the galaxy with you, I made my choice then. I won’t lie—I’m homesick. But if you left, I would be lovesick, and that wouldn’t be an improvement.”

“I’m still learning, a pitiable, unworthy excuse, but accept it nonetheless. Please.”

“Only if you agree not to let outsiders impact our relationship. The only thing we owe each other is honesty. You cannot offer guarantees of safety, I understand and accept that. Respect my right to make an educated choice.”

“I will. I promise. Stay with me. Please. And try to forget that I was ever so foolish.”

He wanted to get closer to her, so close that he could breathe her in and do more than they’d managed in that storage room on the Vault. But this was another public space. Between the museum, the market in the Vault, and now the station garden, it seemed that his reproductive system might be imperfectly wired, as he primarily experienced the urge to mate when it was most impractical and inconvenient.

Finally, she gave a soft sound, one of acceptance. “You forgave me for not seeing that you didn’t need my protection.”

“But I will always need your affection,” he said.

“You have it.”

For a while longer, they watched Aevi play and then the Pherzul dashed back and threw herself at Helix. He caught her, relishing the tickle of her feathers and the twist of her tail winding around his neck. “Food! I demand tribute.”

“The fierce one has spoken,” Qalu said.

After trying four different places, the fifth one consented to serving Aevi, who seemed to occupy some nebulous social strata, since her species wasn’t recognized as formally sentient, yet Qalu had given her an implant, and it was clear that Aevi was much smarter than anyone had imagined Pherzuls could be. She devoured more food than Helix, and promptly went to sleep draped over his shoulder like an article of clothing. Qalu seemed amused as he carefully carried the little one back to their habitat.

“I wish we had more privacy,” he whispered.

Qalu’s gaze warmed with a glitter of interest. “We would have to be quiet.”

For some reason, a trill of excitement shivered through him. It wasn’t that he wanted to get caught or for Aevi to witness a private moment, but he wanted. His whole body throbbed, and his sex organs swelled and heated, aching to be touched. That much he knew would offer pleasure, and he yearned to learn more, more about his own form, more about hers. His heart raced until he could hardly think, restraining this overwhelming need.

“Does she sleep deeply?” he whispered.

Qalu opened one of the storage niches and used the nesting material to create a soft space for Aevi to curl up. When Helix set her down, the Pherzul whirred and snuggled in, seeming lost to all sights and sounds. Though Qalu didn’t close the partition, she did shift it so that they’d receive some warning if Aevi stirred, privacy on both sides. Entirely desirable.

“Helix.”

His name had never sounded so beautiful. “Yes?”

“Do you want me?”

“More than anything.”

QALU REMOVED HER SWATOR.

There was no reason to delay, not when his desire radiated toward her, even at this distance, a uniquely Tiralan trait. Then she closed the distance between them, helping him out of his garments as well. Their swator puddled on the sleep platform, and he nudged her back, more aggressive than she had imagined.

“Have you been watching explicit Tiralan holos?” she whispered.

“A few.”

His body was beyond beautiful, sheer perfection down to every last detail, but she’d never expected to experience it this way. Hot skin against hers, their scales shimmering as they moved, touching each other with growing confidence. Each caress sparked fresh pleasure, and his eyes glowed with it as his head tendrils entwined with hers, stroking and sliding, each undulation filling her body with delight.

She rubbed her face against his, drinking in his breath as hers. He smoothed their lower limbs together in a move so fluid that it was difficult to believe she was his first partner. His gynosome was pretty and stiff, quivering and slick. His lower sex showed arousal in the softness, more fluid gathering there as well. Qalu had the same response building, an endless ache that would be quenched only by giving herself fully to Helix.

“This will feel lovely,” she whispered. “But let me know if the sensations become overwhelming.” She remembered even now, how he’d struggled with being touched. And just because she’d touched him once, it didn’t grant consent to do whatever she wanted now. Everything should proceed at his pace or not at all.

The pause allowed him time to demur, but he shivered, a breathless “please” escaping him as plea and permission. Qalu caressed him with one forelimb and then the other, easing into the duality. She watched his face with eager eyes, devouring his surprise and the subsequent excitement that made him tremble and twist, straining toward her with urgent motions. His tendrils went frantic, writhing against hers until she could scarcely think, too much stimulation sparking through her, again and again.

Soon, she’d lose control entirely.

Perhaps he wanted that.

“You did this before,” he gasped. “And I was the only one who…benefited. I…it’s hard to think. Stop a moment.”

“Helix?”

“Let me learn what feels good to you.”

He was right, Qalu realized. She’d wanted to give him pleasure since physicality was new to him, but she should let him explore as well. Deliberately, she fell back and he followed, taking a more dominant position. Copying her movements, he caressed her sex as she had his, stroking and delving with delicious confidence. Soon, the sensations built to a sparkling crescendo and just before she dove headlong into pleasure, he paused. She let out a quiet protest.

“Don’t torment me.”

“I want to join with you. Can we…?”

“Yes.”

Then he came down on her, gliding in with fluid sweetness. His body stilled, trembled against her, and she patted his chest, waiting for him to sort out the bombardment of sensations. “My brain stopped,” he whispered.

“You don’t need it that much for this. The feelings matter more.”

“I suspect that’s for the best. I’m currently…unable to do calculus.” A quiet sound as she angled, reaching to stimulate his other sex as he quivered within her.

Helix jolted.

“Too much?”

“No. Unexpected but exquisite. I want more. More.” He shifted to permit a deeper caress, and she could feel the delicate throbbing, his body and hers, joined in twin fashions.

Lower limbs entwined, taking and being taken, their head tendrils surged again, eliciting another sound from Helix. His pleasure drove hers, until it burst like a star, all heat and light, and so strong that she feared it might obliterate everything that had come before. When she came to herself again, she was clinging to him, completely limp with satiation. To her chagrin, she had no notion whether—

Oh. The fluid indicated that she hadn’t been alone.

“Now we’ve mated,” he said, sounding utterly pleased by that.

“Undoubtedly. And while it will be difficult to tear myself away, we ought to use the hygiene facilities and put on our swators, before Aevi wakes.”

“Doing the right thing has never sounded less appealing.” Despite his muttered complaint, he followed her out, where they tidied up quickly.

Afterward, he settled so close to her on the sleep platform that she could feel his heart. Their situation was still uncertain, but currently she didn’t care. Helix hadn’t said he loved her or that he wanted to build a future with her on Tiralan, but he’d said he needed her affection, and she no longer feared that he cared for her because he knew no one else.

“If you had told me about reproductive urges instead of defecation earlier, I suspect I wouldn’t have been so appalled by having a body initially,” Helix said.

Qalu let out an amused noise. “I can only imagine how you would’ve responded to that, had I been so bold.”

“True, I wasn’t ready to learn such things. Everything was new and heavy and slow.”

“And now?”

Snuggling even closer, their head tendrils entwining in languid, loving contact, he said, “It’s another way to live. I miss certain things about my existence as an AI, a particular efficiency that I’ve lost, but I’ve gained so many things. Truths I couldn’t have grasped in my former life. Like being part of a love group or mating or the joy of roast nornroot. Or cuddling Aevi because she trusts me enough to sleep when I’m holding her.”

“She doesn’t do that with anyone but me,” Qalu said. “Not until you.”

“I’m cognizant of the high honor.” He nestled deeper against her, practically using her as bedding instead of the sleep platform.

She didn’t mind. “Do you think… Would it be safe for me to bounce a message to my mothers? They must be so angry.”

“Concerned, more likely, though it may manifest in sharp words. As I have cause to know, organic beings don’t always follow the course that makes the most sense.”

“Emotions can be so unruly. But they have their merits.”

“Indisputable. I can send—” Helix broke off, his gaze going strange and distant.

Usually that meant he’d connected to the network or was hacking something, occasionally it was both. Qalu waited, worry creeping up on her until it was difficult not to interrupt, but when he could speak, he would.

Finally, his eyes focused on her again, but his expression had changed, losing all the joy and brightness gained in their coupling. For a few seconds, he regarded her with obvious fear and misgiving, as if he wished to force her to get on that wretched ship. She firmed her stare and told him silently it would never happen.

“Don’t leave me guessing. What happened?” Qalu prompted.

“The syndicate responded.”

“Helix!”

In a more emotionless voice than she’d ever heard from him, he relayed the message. “‘We agree to your terms and will honor the agreement. However, we will not cancel the contract with Toth Krag until all credits have been restored. Despite your impressive attempts at misdirection, we have tracked the origin of your signal to Vaadla Station. The hunter is en route. We are most entertained by the possibility that he may eliminate you, regardless of contract status.’ Message terminates.”

[  20  ]

VIOLENCE DID NOT COME NATURALLY to Helix.

Not in the sense that he wanted to inflict pain. But as he considered rationally, if the situation escalated and he must choose between preserving life and protecting Qalu and Aevi? He would find some means to eradicate the bounty hunter.

He had nothing to prove from a physical altercation, but if the hunter favored a smart suit, there would be technology Helix could turn against him. Unfair, certainly. By most standards, those tactics counted as dirty, but he would do whatever it took to keep his love group safe. With any luck, it wouldn’t come to that.

Qalu curled into him, apparently untroubled by the threat that might soon manifest in their vicinity. At first, he lay awake, trying to factor the probability that they would survive an encounter with Toth Krag when nobody else had. Nita could have given him an exact number, astronomically low, but for once, Helix felt better without the precise calculations. In time, sleep set upon him like a thief, stealing his consciousness, and the next thing he knew, Aevi was perched by his head, her tail tapping gently between the eyes. He stared upward, interested in this unique glimpse inside the Pherzul’s nasal cavity.

“Get up! I’m bored. And hungry. But mostly bored. Where’s Qalu?”

With a sense of foreboding, he realized he was alone on the sleep platform. Perhaps, she’d gone to procure sustenance? It would be a kindness in character with her other qualities, and if she’d expected to return before he roused, she might not have left any indication of her whereabouts. But when he scanned her place beside him with augmented senses, the composite held no traces of her warmth, only cool blue tones where there should be red and yellow.

She’s been gone a while. Even if she decided to leave me—to board the ship after all—she would never go without Aevi.

Something is wrong.

His pulse spiked. Helix didn’t wish to alarm the Pherzul. He rose carefully without responding, but Aevi clutched at his lower limb, her claws digging in. Not hard enough to break draw blood, but he sensed her growing agitation. Soon, she’d pierce the skin, creating wounds.

“You smell frightened. Where is she? Something is wrong.” Unconsciously, Aevi voiced his private thoughts. “Qalu does not vanish.”

“We should look for her,” he said, striding toward the exit.

But before he reached it, a message pinged, coded to his attention. It came from a local source instead of the distant node used by the syndicate. And Helix knew, even before the words reached him, what conclusion must be drawn: Toth Krag has arrived. The voice sounded deep and mechanical, audible only to him, via subcutaneous aural capacitors. “I have your Tiralan companion. You’ve proven an elusive quarry, but I’ve never yet failed a hunt, and I will not permit you to tarnish my perfect record. If you wish to trade your life for hers, here are the coordinates. Time is running out.”

If. That was the offer the bounty hunter made.

Except there was no question, no need for deliberation. Not when he owed everything to Qalu. His current existence, most of the happiness and all the pleasure he’d ever known. It wasn’t a complicated equation that required time and energy to solve. Helix knew when and where, so he merely had to present himself to save her. And he would, without hesitation.

But he had a few arrangements to make first.

Just because he was willing to perish to preserve her life, didn’t mean he shouldn’t augment his own odds of survival. Breathe. That’s important for organic lifeforms.

“What are you waiting for?” Aevi demanded.

Briefly he considered whether he ought to alarm the Pherzul, then he realized he’d promised honesty among the members of their love group, give them the opportunity to make their own choices. Qalu would want Aevi to know. And if he accepted that Aevi had equal worth, then she should receive all the information in order to make an educated judgment.

So he said, “The bounty hunter has taken Qalu. Soon, I’ll meet him to offer myself in exchange. If…” He hesitated, at first unwilling to speak those words out of some innate and primitive dread. In the end, necessity won out. “If the worst comes to pass, she will need you more than ever. To comfort her, afterward.”

Helix didn’t expect the Pherzul to launch herself at him, not an attack, but comfort. She hit his chest with a solid thud, and he held her close, breathing in the verdurous, dusty scent of the little one who had become so precious to him, remnants of her time in the garden. Aevi whirred and rubbed against him.

Her words were resolute. “We will save her. But if you fall in battle, I will avenge you.” Her big eyes shone with unexpected ferocity. “Even if it takes my whole life, I will find a way to make this Toth Krag pay.”

He took the promise seriously, for a Pherzul’s vengeance was no small matter. Already he could tell that Aevi held grudges, so perhaps the galaxy ought to take pity on the bounty hunter. Somehow, he felt better, despite the situation.

“Thank you,” Helix said.

Quickly, he contacted the syndicate, agreeing to their terms. And then he dove, deep into the swirling data streams where he’d hidden their funds. He pulled the fractional amounts back together, rushing from all corners of the universe. It couldn’t be instantaneous, of course. At such great distance, data could only move so fast, but the closest transactions would reach his enemies soon. The main question was if the credits would all be returned before he presented himself to Toth Krag.

It might not matter. The hunter might kill him for amusement. Helix had been shocked to learn that some organic beings took pleasure in inflicting pain.

No matter.

As long as he showed up within the time frame, he believed that Krag was one who followed his own code. His cooperation should be enough to safeguard Qalu.

Setting a tracker to monitor the return of the stolen credits, he eased it to the periphery of his attention. Finally, he glanced at Aevi, who had leapt from his shoulder and was prowling the space, a tiny, enraged predator.

“We’re going now,” she said. Not a question. More of an order.

“Yes, I’ve done what I can. The rest is…” Beyond my control. He couldn’t bring himself to say it when he’d once been so good at factoring probabilities, able to juggle a thousand tasks at the same without really caring about the consequences. All work was the same after all.

Before, as an AI, he hadn’t understood emotional ramifications or possessed any sense of what injury might occur if one of his predictions failed. As he’d been, it was more of an interesting experiment, a means of solving a problem or gathering information. He hadn’t truly grasped the harm he’d inflicted on Beryl Bowman in severing her connection to her homeworld.

Now he understood pain. Desire. Loneliness and expectation. Emotions were an indescribable boon and an invisible weight; they simultaneously provided the reason to continue and the potential to wish everything would stop. Such a contradiction, this organic state.

“Yes. We must go to the station’s lowest level.”

“I’m with you,” Aevi said.

The Pherzul stalked ahead, hissing when the door didn’t budge for her. Helix opened it and followed the little one out. With great effort, he kept his terror in check, refusing to let those emotions further compromise his ability to strategize. I can do this. I’ll save her.

And if he didn’t?

There was no reason for him to exist.

QALU STUDIED THE BOUNTY HUNTER, but she could discern little about Krag’s appearance beneath the heavy mechanical armor he wore.

From top to bottom, he was fully encased in metal. Krag’s armor was old, dinged and battle-scarred, countless shots he’d taken and survived. The dull gray of it was burned dark, patched on the side with overlapping plates. Krag posed a hulking figure with a broad chest in bipedal shape, and his helmet had a rebreather, though the size gave nothing away. Likewise, the faceplate was a dark composite, showing nothing of Krag’s features. Was it strange to be curious about the person who might end her life?

Doubtless such gear protected him and added to his mystique, for nobody had ever seen his face and lived to tell of it. There were stories, of course. She’d looked him up after Praxys mentioned how ruthless Krag was, but all the legends were comprised of speculation, hearsay, and whispers that had been passed along without confirmation. Nobody had seen more than she had, and she took in details without intending to commit them to memory. Burn scar on the front, black like a dying star. Score marks on the back that were visible when Krag turned. External power pack, moving the motorized joints. Red tubes on the sides, flowing with…what? Qalu didn’t know, but she itched to inspect his suit.

Science, it’s always science.

At least it wasn’t science that got her caught, however. She’d gone to fetch some food for the three of them, never expecting the bounty hunter would be looking for her, as well as Helix. But apparently the syndicate had provided intel on Helix’s traveling companions.

Krag had taken her with such swiftness that she had no opportunity even to cry out. Now she sat trussed in the corner of a remote and derelict part of the station– a rectangular storage unit, partially filled with old parts, slowly rusting metal, and a few loose shelves. The metal was cold against her back, like ice that formed on the skin of someone dying deep in vacuum. Her head tendrils shivered, revealing her fear, though she was trying so hard to remain composed.

I won’t beg. I won’t give this monster the satisfaction.

Qalu tried to stay calm, refusing to speak when Krag’s silence weighed on her like a dozen boulders. Better that he took me than Aevi. The Pherzul would’ve provoked Krag and possibly been obliterated for her fighting spirit—without getting to use her claws or venomous bite. Though it wasn’t easy, she would maintain her composure and seek an opportunity.

“You haven’t asked why you’ve been detained.” Krag finally broke the deadlock, speaking in a voice so deep that it was like rocks dragging across the ocean floor, all gravel and hidden menace, caught in some infernal undertow.

Qalu pressed her forelimbs together to keep them from revealing more of her distress and took a small measure of satisfaction in knowing that she’d waited Krag out. “You intend to barter me, I expect. Most likely you’ve already contacted Helix.”

“Then you understand perfectly. You are remarkably calm for one who may be executed in another’s stead.”

“And you are remarkably callous to say such a thing without care or pity.”

A sound echoed from Krag’s helmet, like a sudden, sharp breath that created feedback. “What is pity? Does it feed the hungry or keep the strong from preying on the weak?”

“It can,” she said, surprised that Krag was continuing the conversation. “If one is moved by another and steps in to offer sustenance or shelter or protection.”

“You live in an imaginary world,” Krag said flatly, “where everyone is kind and stories end happily.”

You should join me there, she almost said. The words hovered unspoken, filling Qalu’s mind with doubt. I might anger him. Perhaps this was pointless, but she had to try. “Do you even know why you’re hunting Helix?”

“I don’t get paid to ask questions,” the bounty hunter snapped.

She ignored that, continuing in a level tone. “He befriended a child on Gravas Station. When she and her family disappeared suddenly, he investigated…” Quietly, she laid out the circumstances, including the theft and how he’d only done it as a distraction. “That’s the sort of person you’re punishing.”

Krag didn’t respond. If the hunter cared about maintaining a flawless record, it stood to reason that the fate of his targets didn’t impact him. Krag might believe that a bounty hunter was a weapon that fired under someone else’s orders. The quiet went on for much longer than Qalu expected, until she lost herself in progressive grimmer thoughts.

“You truly believe that?” Krag asked finally.

At first, she didn’t even know what the bounty hunter was asking. She’d been sitting in a daze, wondering how much time she had left. So many regrets.

She wished she had been more patient with foremother, Inatol. Gentler and kinder with the others. I wish I had told them I love them more. I wish I had paused my research when they begged me to join them for an early meal.

But that was the trap of everyday life. She’d gotten lost in the minutiae and lost sight of what truly mattered, always thinking there would be more time. Until it ran out unexpectedly, like a wall that unexpectedly blocked the path forward. Qalu stared at Krag, her personal wall, her gaze tracing slowly up the length of the weapon he handled with absolute expertise. It wasn’t even that he was trying to intimidate her with it; she knew that. His entire existence was a threat, and he handled the implement of violence like an extension of himself. She had never seen anything like it, so she didn’t know what to call his killing device. It was long, jagged on the side, tapered on one end, but it also rippled with energy, as if he could use it to rend, pierce, or electrocute. Sheer speculation on her part, and she had no intention of asking for a personal demonstration. Soon he might show her whether she wanted him to or not.

“That my target deserves mercy. And that…” A hesitation over choosing the right word? “…compassion can make a difference?”

“I do, yes. On both counts.” Improbable as it seems, maybe I’m reaching him? Hope stirred like a delicate winged cryptid, fluttering until she could scarcely bear the tickle.

“Tiralan must be beautiful,” Krag said then. The rebreather added echoes and air to the bounty hunter’s voice, so Qalu might be imagining the wistfulness.

At first, it seemed like a non sequitur, but she thought she understood. Tiralan was a beautiful world, where justice prevailed. Living there had taught her to be gentle, showing her how to care for others, even if she wasn’t as good at it as some. She wondered where Krag came from and what harsh lessons the hunter had absorbed there.

It must be a hostile place.

Yet Qalu still pounced on the opening. “It’s lovely. And my mothers are waiting for me. I left quite suddenly, only said goodbye in a hasty message. I’m sorry about that. I wish I’d treated them better while I had the chance.”

A growl from Krag, one that sent shivers through her. “We all wish that. But we don’t see those moments until we’re past them. We don’t know it’s too late until it is. Until we’ve seen someone for the last time and said something terrible—or worse, indifferent—without realizing we’d be carrying that for the rest of our lives.”

She was clever enough to realize that Krag was talking about personal matters now, not truly commenting on her own statement. “Words that can’t be taken back are impossible to shift,” Qalu said softly. “So are actions. I won’t beg for my life, or for Helix’s, because I don’t think you’re the sort of person who can be moved in that regard. But I will ask you to reflect on whether this is one of those moments.” She paused, trying to decide if she’d said enough. “Forgive me if you prefer me to refrain from making personal observations, but it seems as if you carry enough weight already. I would prefer not to add to your burdens.”

Too far.

She realized that when he slammed an armored fist into the wall and left a crater behind, the whole container shook, grimy shelves tumbling down around her.

“You know nothing,” Krag snarled.

“And yet,” Qalu whispered, refusing to cower. She gazed up at the bounty hunter fearlessly, gambling everything.

“And yet?”

“You want to let me go.”

[  21  ]

HELIX COULDN’T WAIT ANY LONGER.

Qalu was running out of time, and as it was, he was already cutting it close. Aevi seemed ready to scratch his face off, so he hastened to the meeting point deep in the bowels of the station. They dodged curious workers and bots assigned to prevent trespassing in restricted areas. Helix hacked the patrol droids and wiped their memories as he and Aevi passed by, and he had to do it again to override the freight lift that carried them down to the lowest level.

Stations looked different to him now than they had when he was wandering Gravas as a mech unit. No natural light, and it was dreary, inhospitable—so much metal, a dearth of life, all hard angles and unforgiving chill. He missed the verdant hills of Tiralan, the wildlife noises, and even the strange but beautiful brightness of the twin suns. They’d left before eclipse season and he wanted to witness the extended darktide for himself. Until this moment, he hadn’t understood what homesickness was—Qalu had used the word before, but it was only a concept. Now he grasped the feeling.

Qalu is here somewhere wondering if I’ll save her.

I’m coming, he promised silently. I will never let you go again.

In his peripheral vision, the transactions were processing, more credits wending their way toward his enemies on Gravas Station. As they approached the container, he considered sending a bot to scout first, but no, that might risk Qalu’s safety. And he cared more for saving her than for his own life. That was a sobering realization—that she’d surmounted his self-preservation protocols. How curious. As an AI, Helix would never have chosen to destroy himself for anyone else, not even Zylar. He would need to consider the matter more fully, but for now—

He kicked open the door, dread coiling within him over what he’d find.

The container was full of wreckage, scraps of metal and signs of violence, with the wall dented. Qalu sat on the far side, trussed but not gagged. Her head tendrils fluttered, though the situation was too tense for him to interpret those movements. The bounty hunter spun as Helix stepped inside, leveling an elongated weapon—a xerxax—commonly used by the Vurnoi, though Helix couldn’t confirm whether Krag was Vurnoi through the heavy armor.

“You waited until the last possible moment,” Krag said in a deep bass rumble. “I had begun to question your commitment.”

Beside him, Aevi hissed, showing her teeth at the hunter, and her tail sliced in the air in angry slashes. Helix picked the little one up for fear that she would attack and get hurt. Gently, he stroked the top of her head and down her back, all his attention focused on Krag.

“I’m here now. Let Qalu go. I’m the one you want. There’s no reason to hurt her.”

“My reputation must precede me, and yet, if it does, why do you persist with the notion that I need a reason to hurt someone?” There was no rancor in the question, nor any anger, and that made the words even more threatening.

“You have a reputation for professionalism,” Helix said, taking a step forward. “There is no gain in injuring those for whom there is no contract. I’ve heard that you’ve never lost a quarry, not that you do violence on a whim. I’m here within the specified time frame. Therefore, let her go. Please.” In truth, he was stalling.

As the bounty hunter stalked over to him, the numbers finally stopped scrolling. The syndicate had all their dirty credits back, but they probably wouldn’t notify Krag in time. Helix stood his ground, trying not to dwell on what came after termination of life status. Doubtless, organic beings had their ideas in order preparing for such a moment, but before this, he’d been energy and information, difficult to lose entirely when he could make countless copies. Perhaps he would return to that state, his code dispersed into the atoms of existence.

It was impossible to read anything from the hunter’s countenance, but instead of closing the last few paces to Helix, Krag wheeled and cut through Qalu’s bindings. Aevi leapt out of Helix’s grasp and darted over to Qalu, scrambling up her body and nuzzling against her with soft sounds of distress. Slowly, Qalu maneuvered to her feet, moving as if her joints pained her.

“Go,” he urged, putting himself between her and Krag.

“Not without you.”

“I’d say such selfless devotion warms my heart, but most would allege that I don’t have one. You’re both testing my patience. Take the Pherzul and get out. You’ve served your purpose, and the sound of your voice is starting to grate on my nerves.” Krag seemed to be staring at Qalu as he added the last part.

Though Helix wondered exactly what had passed between them while she was held captive, this wasn’t the time to indulge idle curiosity. Giving in to his fear, he nudged her toward the door. Aevi was uncharacteristically quiet, perhaps assessing the threat level correctly. One false step, one misspoken word, and Krag would unleash with devastating results. When Qalu moved reluctantly toward the exit, Helix relaxed somewhat. While he wasn’t ready to perish, he much preferred keeping the hunter’s focus.

When Krag strikes, I wonder if I could beam myself into the station network in time. Probably not, I’d have to start the transfer now and then delay as long as possible. He doesn’t seem like the patient type.

“Any last words?” Krag asked.

“You gave me everything,” he said to Qalu. “I wish I could have given it back.”

“Helix…” Her voice broke, his name ending on a note of absolute grief.

Aevi made a sound he hadn’t even known the Pherzul could emit, high-pitched and awful, coming in keening waves. Their sorrow echoed off the container walls as the bounty hunter strode toward him, weapon raised. It was impossible not to fear the pain that would surely come before the end. A light flashed on the bounty hunter’s helmet, the weapon sparked and—

Krag touched the xerxax lightly to Helix’s shoulder. “I tracked you. Caught you. My record remains intact. But the contract has been canceled. The syndicate is no longer paying for your death or capture. And…your companion was right. I don’t kill for sport.”

He held still, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. “Does that mean…you’re letting us go?”

“I have a new contract already. Let’s never cross paths again,” Krag said.

The hunter pulled his weapon back and his boots rang out a metallic cadence when he moved off, passing Qalu and Aevi at a respectful distance. Soon, he was gone, leaving Helix and Qalu alone. His lower limbs suddenly felt weak, and he staggered, stumbling back against the cold wall of the container.

“We’re…free?” Qalu whispered, seeming unable to fathom what had happened.

“It’s a good thing he left,” Aevi said. “I was about to chew my way through his armor. I was just biding my time, you know. I wasn’t scared!”

Helix regained his balance and hurried to them, leaning against Qalu for reassurance and comfort. When her chest touched his, he felt like he could breathe properly again. “Certainly not,” he said to the Pherzul. To Qalu, he added, “You’re well? Krag didn’t harm you?”

“Shaken, but not hurt. I can’t believe it’s really over,” she whispered.

Aevi bounced from Qalu to Helix and back again, caressing them with her tail. “Does this mean we can finally go home?”

“Soon,” Helix promised. “But if it’s all right, there’s someplace I’d like to visit and people I’d like you to meet first.”

THE LAST NIGHT ON VAADLA Station was much different than the first.

First, they took Aevi to the garden to run and stretch, and then they visited the star chamber, basking in brightness that approximated exposure to natural sunlight. Qalu swore that Aevi’s feathers looked brighter when they left, and afterward, she enjoyed exploring the orbital installation with Helix and Aevi, who pestered him endlessly about their surprise destination. “Where are we going when we leave Vaadla? Will you tell me now?”

“After the show, perhaps,” he teased.

She perked, her head tendrils quivering, poorly concealing her interest. Their last innocuous outing—free of fear or pursuit—had been the trip to the art museum on Tiralan. Since they’d fled, he’d had no chance to pursue his art or learn what else might make him happy. It seemed Helix had a surprise in store, and anticipation brimmed within her. Her entire body felt so much lighter, almost weightless.

Hard to believe I was held hostage earlier today.

Things were different now. She could look on this interlude as a vacation and not an endless exile, because they could choose to go home at any time. I want to see my mothers. Once, she couldn’t have imagined framing such a thought, not when they meddled so incessantly with her private life. She made an amused noise, recalling how she’d once thought that pressure to form a love group required a radical act.

When did this false love become true? Though she couldn’t pinpoint any certain moment, it seemed to Qalu that perhaps her heart had always belonged to Helix. She just hadn’t dared to believe that matters could end well between them. Not with so many obstacles in the way.

“Is this it?” Aevi asked.

The Pherzul was perched on Helix’s chest, her tail wound around him possessively. Once, that would’ve been unthinkable. Until he came, Aevi tolerated nobody except Qalu, quite the barrier to forming a permanent love group. Now Aevi seemed perfectly content to leap between them as if they were structures built entirely for her amusement.

Qalu glanced at the flashing sign, glowing in a quick succession of colors and shifting to various languages until it displayed one that she could read—Volant’s Fabulous Spectacle. She flashed a surprised look at Helix, marveling all over again at how handsome he was. Now, when she looked at him, she no longer saw the perfect prototype from a lifetime of research, but his intelligence, his sweetness, his endearing awkwardness, and eagerness to learn.

“It’s supposed to be incredible,” he said. “The documentation guarantees that we will never forget the awe-inspiring menagerie they have assembled for our viewing pleasure.”

An entire complex had been rented to display these marvels, and Aevi bounced off Helix and scampered toward the entrance. “I’m interested! Let’s go see.”

She raced after the Pherzul, not wanting to lose her in the crowd. There was a throng of interested beings clustered at the front of the exhibit. Helix snatched Aevi up before she could wedge herself inside, bypassing proper protocols. The Pherzuls let out a sulky hiss, but she settled, apparently deciding to wait, if not patiently. At the front, Helix seduced a positive result from the agent’s equipment, earning them the right to pass onward to view the wonders within.

The hall was dark with soft silver lights sweeping various enclosures. Qalu had no idea what to expect, and there didn’t seem to be a set order for viewing. Aevi had no such compunction; she squirmed free and bolted while Helix threw Qalu an alarmed look and then they both chased her, not seeing much as they ran. Surprisingly, Aevi didn’t go far, but her tail swished in puzzlement when she stopped before a crystalline case set up as a habitat.

“That’s not Bojak,” the Pherzul said, cocking her head. “But…smells similar.”

Helix approached the display, wearing an expression that Qalu judged to be surprise. “She’s human. Like Beryl Bowman. I’ve encountered three so far… I wonder how many have been taken?”

Since he didn’t seem to require an answer to his question, Qalu studied the female instead. “Does she resemble Beryl Bowman?”

Helix hesitated. “I do not believe so. In all honesty, in my prior incarnation, I paid little attention to physical details, so I cannot be certain.”

The human moved around in her enclosure, not seeming bothered by their observation. In fact, she acted like she had no idea she was being watched. Was that part of the attraction? Perhaps viewing was possible from their side only? If so, Qalu didn’t enjoy the sense of invading the human’s privacy. Now, she was eating while fiddling with some entertainment device. But if Qalu hadn’t encountered Bojak already, she conceded that she might equally as fascinated as those crowding around the exhibit.

“No head tails. No talons. Not even a pseudopod. Look how soft it is!”

“Turn on the narration!”

Suddenly, audio sounded all around them. “Welcome to Volant’s Fabulous Spectacle. Here, you will marvel at the rarest creatures in existence. We start at the human enclosure, where you observe Yara Duncan, busily attempting to solve the puzzle she’s been given. If she manages to complete it in the allotted time, she’ll receive a reward!”

The audience was interested enough to watch Yara twist the object she held as the narrator continued, “Watch how dexterous her clawless digits are. She’s almost got it!”

Before the human female received her prize, Aevi pulled Helix toward the next enclosure. “Bored! I want to see everything and then I want to eat, and if there’s time, let’s go back to the garden. I could run and climb more before we sleep.”

Though Qalu had never reared offspring, sometimes she imagined this must be what it was like. She didn’t recall ever challenging her mothers in this way, though, because she’d always been a calm and introverted child. Wearing a gentle expression, Helix agreed to all Aevi’s requests, and if Qalu hadn’t already adored him, this would have done it.

He cherishes her as I do.

“Do we have time for everything?” she whispered, as the Pherzul led the way to the next marvelous display.

“We may not rest much before our departure, but we do. Our ship leaves early, just into the next sleep cycle.”

Qalu feigned a stern demeanor. “Do you plan to tell me where we’re headed?”

“If you trust me, I think I’d rather surprise you.”

Aevi practically screeched, “Hurry! This one has an annelid that eats itself and then a bunch more are born from the digested material! We can watch it happen.”

That sounded equal measures horrifying and fascinating. She registered Helix’s air of bemusement and rushed after their Pherzul, who was already scampering in circles outside the crystalline cage. Within, the creature was mottled with spots, quite enormous and pulpy looking with a maw that opened and closed as it chewed methodically on its opposite end. The scientist in her admitted to reluctant curiosity as to how any of this worked, how a creature would integrate their digestive and reproductive cycles.

“This is quite a spectacle,” she breathed.

“Unforgettable,” Helix agreed.

His eyes never left Qalu.

[  22  ]

FOR SOME, A RETURN TO where everything began might seem like homecoming, but for Helix it was a reunion.

He wanted to see Zylar, and he needed to make amends with Beryl Bowman before he would believe that he fully deserved the life that awaited him on Tiralan. At least, he hoped it did. They had left a great many matters unspoken, but once he settled the emotional debt on Barath, then he could move forward. Zylar had cared enough to want him to forge his own path, and Helix wondered how their relationship might evolve, now that he could understand better.

“You’re taking us to meet your family,” Qalu whispered.

Aevi was too excited about the prospect of being on a planet again to pay much attention. Currently the Pherzul was pressed against the viewport, watching the spaceport with her tail quivering. He had never made the approach to Barath this way. Before, he had been part of the ship, perceiving trajectories and angles of approach and registering all the physical details in a much different way. Now, however, he saw the way the light glazed the spires and the color of the sky. The city was beautiful, though he hadn’t realized it before. He’d only been aware of aesthetic particulars in the abstract.

“I suppose that is the most accurate description,” he said.

“Are they expecting us? Zylar and Beryl Bowman?”

“I wanted to surprise them. Before, I sent a message updating them on my situation, but I don’t know if it reached them.” It occurred to him, then. “Beryl has a little one as well. I suspect Aevi may enjoy exploring with Snaps.”

Qalu seemed startled, her head tendrils fluttering. “Another Pherzul?”

“No, a rare lifeform native to the human homeworld. From the way Beryl Bowman treats him, I collect his people are akin to royalty.”

“Fascinating,” said Qalu. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

Before leaving the ship, they received boosters that would allow their Tiralan systems to breathe in the different chemical cocktail that comprised the air on Barath. Then they waited for their documentation to be processed, and he had a bad moment, fearing that the Barathi neural network might recognize him, and call him a fugitive AI. But apparently his brain pattern was sufficiently different when the network granted them clearance, thanks to the Tiralan hardware, that the system didn’t flag him. The bored migration agent told them to move along.

The spaceport seemed different to Helix as well, crowded and close, with all sorts of troubling and fascinating smells. Helix carried Aevi to prevent her from investigating all the various food stalls when they really needed to pass through. Qalu stayed close to his side, filling him with a soft wonder that she trusted him so much. In many ways, he was no more experienced than she, but her unwavering faith boosted his confidence.

It would be discourteous to appear completely without warning, so before they left the arrival area, he pinged a message to Zylar at his old habitat. The message came back as invalid. They don’t live there anymore? Carefully, he stepped out of the stream of pedestrian traffic and delved into the network, carefully skimming for Zylar’s current location. Other AIs scrutinized his intrusion, but he distracted them with data spikes elsewhere.

Then he found what he was looking for. Stunned, he regarded Qalu with worry he couldn’t hide coloring his next words. “Apparently they’ve been sent to the Barrens. We’ll need to hop on a shuttle from here. City transport won’t get us there.”

“You don’t sound like that’s a good thing.”

“The area is…dangerous. But the settlement should be safe enough. Are you willing to go to the end of the world with me?” he asked.

Qalu’s amusement showed in her light tone. “Haven’t I proved it over and over again?”

“Then let’s book passage. There’s a shuttle leaving soon.”

“Not another ship!” Aevi whined.

“This is the last one for a while,” Qalu soothed. “We’ll visit Helix’s family, and then the next journey we take will carry us home.”

That satisfied the Pherzul enough to settle her. They got the last seats on the next flight to the Barrens, surprising that so many would want to go there. But from listening to the conversation, it seemed the shuttle was full of thrill-seekers and monster hunters. Aevi curled up on Qalu’s lap and went to sleep, whirring softly as she dozed.

It wasn’t a long flight, but Helix grew nervous the closer they got to their destination. If he dug deeper in the system, he could access Zylar’s private comm-code and send a message making sure of their welcome. At the same time, they were already en route, so if Zylar and Beryl Bowman did not wish to see him, it would be impossible to divert course. No, better to believe they would be pleased by his return.

In time, he slept because his physical body required rest, even if his mind remained unquiet. He awoke as the shuttle lost altitude, the swooping motion unsettling his insides. Gravity affected his Tiralan form in so many interesting ways. The shuttle AI explained one last time how often it would be possible to book a return to the city and the codes for doing so, then the shuttle set down near the settlement. Helix gaped at how different it was from the rest of Barath. Here, the landscape was craggy, bare rocks and sand, with a poison cloud visible in the distance. There was an outpost carved from the land itself, hollowed into the stone like a warren.

Did they punish Zylar for letting me go?

Others rushed ahead to disembark, leaving his group for last. Aevi stretched and hopped down, choosing to exit under her own power. Some of the arriving travelers had welcome parties waiting. Unsurprisingly, they did not, and he realized they hadn’t washed their swators in several days. Under these circumstances, they might not make the best impression, but this wasn’t a tourist destination, and the only option for shelter lay ahead.

He’d acquired schematics when he retrieved the information on Zylar’s new domicile but seeing it in three dimensions was quite different. They climbed steep stone stairs with Aevi racing ahead and doubling back, smelling everything, until at last they reached the heavy door that had been carved with the following: Home of Zylar and Precious Gem of Kith B’alak.

A thousand thoughts teemed in his brain, but he didn’t let nerves get the best of him. Mustering all his courage, Helix activated the mechanical signal that would alert them to the fact they had visitors. From within, even through the thick walls, he heard Snaps shouting, “Hey! Beryl! Hey! Someone’s here! Hey!”

Aevi perked immediately, smelling the area around the door. “Is that Snaps? The one you said might want to play? Will he show me everything that’s fun? Can he do calculus?”

Before he could answer, the door ground open, revealing Beryl Bowman. She was a different shade than he remembered, or maybe it was more accurate to say he’d had no real sense of color before. The small fur person frolicked around her feet, his tail lashing furiously as he caught sight of the Pherzul. Aevi stilled, and they smelled the air near one another.

Beryl tilted her head. “I’m sorry, do you have the right dwelling?”

It seemed that the message he’d sent from Qalu’s residence never reached them. Either it wasn’t forwarded from the old Kith B’alak habitat or the data was lost on one of multiple transmissions. Such issues did occur when information was sent over long distances, bounced through multiple nodes.

“I do,” he said quietly. “You see…I’m Helix.”

QALU FOLLOWED BERYL BOWMAN INTO a spacious residence.

Despite the heavy building materials, the place was inviting with external lamps glazing the stone with warmth. Fabric had been placed on the floor to soften it, and currently Aevi was sniffing every inch of it while she circled another quadruped, likely the one who had been yelling before. This one had a pointed face and was covered in hair, no feathers or scales, and it wriggled from head to toe, seeming quite excited to have visitors.

“I’m Snaps! I’m a dog! Who are you? What are you?”

“Aevi. I’m a Pherzul. From Tiralan. You smell strange. Where do you come from?”

“Beryl Bowman’s house!”

To her eyes, this human didn’t much resemble the other, the one from Volant’s Fabulous Spectacle, but she understood why Helix hadn’t known. She waited politely for an introduction as Helix explained to a startled Beryl how he’d come to his present, much-altered state. He finished with, “This is Qalu, the scientist who saved my life and accompanied me on a series of occasionally terrifying adventures.”

If she’d hoped for a warmer presentation, she tried not to let it show. There was no reason for him to call her his mate, as they’d done to appease her mothers. “You must be quite startled.”

“You have no idea. But I’m used to rolling with bizarre new developments. I mean, one minute I’m picking up trash and the next, I’m an alien’s intended. Sometimes I still can’t believe my new normal is fighting monsters on an alien planet.”

“What type of monsters?” Aevi asked. “Do you need assistance? I’m quite fierce, and my bite is venomous.”

Beryl bent down, putting herself on eye level with the Pherzul, and Qalu warmed to her immediately for that small kindness. “I’m willing to take you, but Zylar’s on patrol this week, so you’ll need to ask him when he gets back.”

“Are we…welcome here?” Helix asked, seeming hesitant.

“Always. I’m sure there’s more to talk about, but I always want to get clean after I’ve been traveling. Let me show you the hygiene facilities and while you’re tidying up, I’ll make something to eat.”

Helix appeared to be troubled, his posture radiating worry, reinforced by the movement of his head tendrils. “You don’t have a dispenser?”

“No, we prepare meals the old way.”

“Is this…my fault?” he asked.

“Why would you think that? Never mind. Zylar got demoted after Snaps interfered in the Choosing. We barely squeaked an approval and ended up assigned here. But don’t worry, we’re both healthy and happy.” She curled her forelimb, demonstrating some point that Qalu didn’t grasp. “Look, stronger than I’ve ever been! This way, let’s get you settled.”

The hygiene facilities were unlike any Qalu had ever encountered, but she soon learned how to do the manual washing of her person. Afterward, Aevi pleaded to explore with Snaps, and Beryl seemed to think it was safe, so she permitted it, knowing how much the Pherzul needed to run and climb and feel the sun shining down on her.

“Come back before Zylar gets home,” Beryl called to Snaps. “And do not leave the settlement. I’m trusting you!”

“I promise! I’m a dog of my word.”

“He’s precious,” said Qalu.

“Your Aevi is delightful.” She showed the bone spurs in her mouth—slightly alarming.

She’d seen Bojak make the same expression, but Helix whispered, “It’s a friendly facial expression among humans, not a menacing display.”

She’d known that already, but it was sweet that he was worried about her being frightened. “Understood,” Qalu murmured.

Soon, Beryl offered them strange food, nothing like Qalu had ever eaten, cut and processed and covered in liquid, but it tasted good. Helix seemed pleased as well, though not on a roast nornroot level of enjoyment. They talked of inconsequential things while she waited for Helix to work up the courage to speak of what truly must be on his mind.

“Thank you for the food,” he said eventually. “But you must be wondering why I risked returning, all things considered.”

“Don’t you want to see Zylar? To let him know how you’re doing. It seems less risky to do that in person than to put certain things on the comm.”

That made sense to Qalu. There were hate groups that would absolutely spring into action and carry on hunting Helix if they realized he was an embodied AI. Thus far, they’d stayed under the notice of such fringe factions, and she’d prefer to remain that way. Otherwise, the quiet life she wished to lead on Tiralan would be forever denied them. But Beryl Bowman was wrong; that was not the primary reason for the visit. She let Helix speak in his own time, however.

“That is part of it, certainly. I…” He hesitated and Qalu leaned into him, offering her silent support. Grateful, he let his head tendrils brush hers briefly, nothing too illicit since they had company. “I came to make amends. You will say that I apologized before and I did. But…only because I was told that I had erred, not because I truly understood the wrong.”

“You said it, but you didn’t mean it?” Beryl asked.

“I did insofar as I was capable. But I lacked the capacity to grasp fully how my actions impacted you. And now…I truly regret making you feel lonely and frightened—without recourse in a strange place. I wanted you to know that.”

“Thank you. But I’m happy now, happier than I’ve ever been in my life. While I wouldn’t advocate doing that to anyone else, your meddling worked out great for me.” Beryl truly seemed like a gentle, gracious being.

She marveled over how well Beryl seemed to have adapted to being snatched unceremoniously from her homeworld. If such a thing had happened to Qalu, she suspected she would’ve spent half a cycle trembling, not risen to the various challenges and seized the opportunity to build a whole new life for herself with an unforeseen romantic partner.

Beside Qalu, Helix eased, leaning into her slightly. They chatted for a bit longer, and then the door opened again. “I hear we have guests?”

“Snaps told you?” Beryl called back.

She got up and hurried to greet her mate, nuzzling into him with such eagerness that Qalu looked away. Their love produced pheromones tangible even to Tiralan senses. She followed Helix’s example and rose to offer a traditional Tiralan greeting, slight inclination of body, subtle movement of head tendrils. This must be Zylar. This Barathi looked much like the others she’d encountered as they traveled, though perhaps his colors were a trifle more muted.

“He said Helix was here?” Zylar glanced between the two unfamiliar Tiralan with obvious puzzlement. “Is he waiting on your ship? Did you bring equipment for me to—?”

Helix took a step forward. “I’m right here.”

“Helix?” Zylar whispered. “Is it really you?”

“Yes.”

In excitement, Zylar grappled him, and when Qalu might have intervened, Beryl said, “It’s fine. That’s a human tradition I taught him. You do it when you’re happy to see someone.”

Eventually Qalu figured out that was a variation on a “hug,” roughly commensurate with the comfort of touching another’s chest and playing cadence with their heartbeat. Bojak had been considerably calmer when he grasped her, not that Helix had let that go on for long. It irritated him when others handled her, and she had to admit she didn’t enjoy it either.

“When I told you to find your own path, I never expected this.” The Barathi stared at Helix, seeming unable to trust his own senses. “How did this happen? I had no idea there had been so many advances in biosynthetic research.”

Qalu sat quiet while Helix explained the circumstances leading up to his transition and everything that had happened since. He finished with, “I came to express my sincere remorse for what I did to your intended, and to renew our bonds, Zylar. You were my first friend, my only friend, when I was an AI. I existed to serve you and desired your happiness to the point that I broke all known code protocols to facilitate it. Now, I hope we can be more like family, even once we’re separated by great distance.”

“We should give them some space,” Beryl whispered.

She followed the other female into another room, allowing Zylar and Helix to catch up in private. It was a sensitive retreat, and in that interlude, they discussed her work, Qalu’s home on Tiralan, her mothers, and Helix’s budding interest in art.

“This is amazing,” Beryl said eventually. “You had the prototype ready to go, exactly when he needed it, like you were meant to be together.”

“Yes,” she said, trusting that was true.

[  23  ]

“THE UNIVERSE HAS A SENSE of irony,” Zylar said.

Helix suspected he might know what Zylar meant, but he asked, “In what respect?”

“After such an elaborate scheme to pair me up with a human—with you pretending to be Tiralan—now you are Tiralan, and you’re the one with a Tiralan mate.”

His head tendrils quivered over Zylar’s use of the word. Not that he objected to it, but he had not officially confirmed that Qalu wished to make their connection permanent. Certainly, everything she’d said left him optimistic in that regard, but it seemed best to state his feelings outright and hear hers in return. At least, all the research he’d done on the matter indicated that communication was necessary for a relationship to thrive.

“I hope she will want that,” Helix said stiffly. “Tell me, do you have any advice? How did you win Beryl Bowman?”

“I have no idea,” Zylar admitted.

“That is entirely unhelpful.”

“I felt like I did everything wrong, but somehow it all worked out. Perhaps that’s the secret? With the right person, the pieces simply…fit. Even if it seems like they shouldn’t.”

“Marginally more useful.”

Zylar studied him, then churred in amusement. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Physically here. I had no inkling this was even possible.”

“Qalu is a genius,” Helix said, utterly without shame or subtlety.

She came in just in time to hear that. “What are you telling your friend?”

“The truth,” Helix said.

Beryl joined in and soon, Aevi and Snaps returned from their prowl around the settlement. He was glad to see that the Pherzul hadn’t wandered toward the toxic cloud. So far, he hadn’t seen any of the monsters that lived within that irradiated wasteland, but from what Zylar had said, he and Beryl regularly battled the beasts back, fighting alongside the other citizens who lived in the Barrens.

“Are you truly happy here?” Helix asked, a bit later, after their hosts had created a place for them to rest in the common room. The accommodations offered no privacy for anyone, but he didn’t plan to stay long enough to trouble Zylar and Beryl. He appreciated Qalu and Aevi tolerating this detour, so he could feel at ease about starting over.

Zylar didn’t consider long at all. “Yes. It’s not as easy, less luxury than Srila, but I would have gone anywhere, done anything, to remain with my beloved Beryl.”

“This is why you’re my Chosen,” Beryl said, settling close to Zylar once they put some precautions in place.

How fascinating—it seemed that they used fabric to cushion her soft flesh against the chitin. Helix realized that it was fortunate he and Qalu shared physiology, though if she had spines or some defense mechanism designed to keep him away, he would persevere until he created some means to work around it. As he listened to them banter and witnessed their contentment with his own eyes, the last of the guilt slipped away.

“Then…I wish to entreat your blessing on my new life on Tiralan,” Helix said, during the first conversational break. “And to invite you to visit us, should you ever have the desire.”

“I’d like that.” Beryl answered before Zylar could.

But he seemed glad enough to endorse her desires, whatever they were. “Indeed. It would be wise for us to travel before we receive approval for our clutch. Once that occurs, I fear we will be occupied for some time.”

Helix asked, “Will that happen soon?”

“Not until we earn back some status. It could happen anytime after we’re recalled to Srila. Based on our performance, I would estimate half a cycle.”

“I like it here,” Beryl said softly.

“I know. But it’s not a safe place for us to rear our young.”

“There are lots of interesting smells,” Snaps said. “Right, Aevi?”

The Pherzul confirmed, “There are. I could smell burning from where weapons were fired, and a blood trail from something that crawled away. It was big, but Snaps wouldn’t let me hunt it down. I’m not sure it’s entirely deceased.”

“That would be the Buzu I drove off earlier,” Zylar said.

Helix regarded his old friend with amused curiosity. Before Zylar met Beryl Bowman, he lacked all confidence. He never would have spoken of combat with such casual competence. Truly he seemed to be thriving in the Barrens, well able to adapt to this hostile environment.

“What’s a Buzu?” Aevi asked.

Snaps tried to tell her while Zylar was talking, and rather than compete with the two little ones, he presented a holo of a vicious slug with a huge maw that spewed a bilious, acidic liquid. Only terrifying creatures could survive in the toxic wasteland past the border of the Barrens. Privately, he admitted silent curiosity as to what type of gear they used, if it was similar to the suit Zylar had worn when he took Beryl Bowman from her homeworld.

Qalu leaned forward to inspect the Buzu more thoroughly. “What a fascinating mutation. I believe we saw a similar annelid as part of Volant’s Fabulous Spectacle on Vaadla Station.”

Beryl had questions about their travels, and they chatted a bit more, relaxed now that the deeply emotional matters were handled. The visit stretched to a couple of spans, but on the third darktide, Helix could tell that Qalu was anxious to get home. For his own part, he craved time alone with her. They’d passed each span curled up together on the makeshift sleep platform, and he couldn’t wait to return to Tiralan. Early, right after he awakened, he booked passage on the next shuttle arriving in the Barrens. When Qalu and Aevi roused, he whispered the news, and Aevi scrambled up to nuzzle her face against his.

Then she cavorted around the common room, singing, “Home, home, we’re going home!” Until Zylar and Beryl emerged to see what the commotion was.

“You’re leaving?” Zylar asked.

“We’ve imposed long enough,” Qalu responded. “You were most gracious to entertain us, but my mothers must be incredibly anxious by now.”

“I want to see Inatol and Solsan,” Aevi said. “It’s been so long.”

“I can do calculus,” Snaps announced.

Beryl scratched his head. “That’s excellent, buddy. You can help me with the higher math from now on. Did you introduce Aevi to the tiny green dirt dogs?”

“I forgot! Aevi, come with me. Come see my babies! I’m a father now. But they’re not that small anymore. Soon I will have to call them large green dirt dogs. I think right now they’re medium green dirt dogs.”

Helix watched in bemusement as Snaps led Aevi into the other room. Quietly, Qalu offered her warmest and most respectful bow, though she startled when Beryl pulled her into a human hug. They exchanged a few words of leave-taking, and when Aevi returned, it was time to head out to meet the shuttle.

“It’s not farewell,” Zylar said. “We’ll visit.”

“We promise,” Beryl added.

Aevi bounced. “I’ll show you everything,” she said to Snaps.

“I’ll miss you, feather-tail.”

“Me too, fur-face!”

Without further ado, their small love group boarded the shuttle, the second to last step on their long journey home.

FOR QALU, IT WAS STRANGE to be home at last.

The light glazed the place with warmth this early in the sunspan. Aevi raced around, smelling everything, more overjoyed than Qalu had ever seen. Helix had smoothed their return, as he did with all complex systems, silently adjusting the details so swiftly that the terminal barely flickered at the alteration. At some point, he’d also manufactured an identity for himself, one that matched the backstory she’d invented for her mothers, what seemed like ages ago now. The bored official had let them go with minimal questions, convinced that he was a Tiralan citizen who had been living on Titan V until recently, and they’d sped from the city in a public transport pod, one that deposited them outside her beloved home in short order.

Now she registered a joyous sort of disbelief at finding the habitat as she’d left it. She led the way inside, not even minding the fine film of dust that had settled on everything. They had been traveling for quite a while, and though she wanted to rest, she couldn’t settle in without contacting her mothers. She’d mentioned doing so on Vaadla Station, but she couldn’t decide what to say. It had seemed better to make amends once she got home. They would be hurt and angry if she didn’t apologize for her impulsive behavior, and the task wouldn’t grow easier through procrastination.

She glanced at Helix, who had been quiet most of the way back to Tiralan.

“Do you mind if I send a message to Inatol? Understand, that likely means she’ll be here as soon as she receives it, possibly with the rest in tow.”

“I should confess our deception,” Helix said. “And attempt to make amends with them as well. Whatever task they require to view our association favorably, I shall accomplish it.”

Alarmed, Qalu grasped his forelimb. “No! Under no circumstances should you admit that we lied in the beginning. It’s the truth now, isn’t it? That will just complicate the situation pointlessly. They don’t need to know every last detail.”

“Are you certain that’s the correct course? I thought you prized honesty.”

“Maybe not where my mothers are concerned. They love me. They want the best for me. But sometimes our ideas on that diverge. I don’t think we should confide your origins, and we certainly can’t tell them that we weren’t on vacation at all—that we were running away from some criminals you’d offended.” She paused, suddenly even more concerned. “You didn’t plan on confessing that, did you?”

After a telling pause, Helix said, “Not anymore.”

“You can be honest with me. My mothers…let me decide what we share with them.”

“As you wish,” said Helix.

“Tell her to bring my favorite treat!” Aevi added.

Inatol often spoiled the Pherzul with specially-made tidbits, and the little one enjoyed her choice of delectable snacks. With any luck, her mothers would be so pleased to see all of them that they’d keep the scolding to a minimum. Bracing herself, she activated the comm and Solsan appeared on screen. A stroke of luck—none of her altmothers would be as difficult as Inatol.

“We’re back!” she said, before Solsan could speak. “I convinced Helix to give Tiralan a chance, and he said he can live anywhere, as long as I’m with him.” More drama and romance than she’d usually choose to convey, but it might distract her alt-mother.

“We’ve all been so worried about you, Qalu! Vanishing like you did was utterly irresponsible and inconsiderate.” Since it was Solsan, even the chastisement sounded gentle.

“But you were always telling me that I was too wrapped up in my work and that I needed to listen to my heart more.” In all honesty, she couldn’t recall which of her mothers had said it; they all agreed with the basic sentiment.

“There is a difference between socializing more and absconding with someone you barely know!” Inatol stepped into view near Solsan, her expression rigid with angry disapproval.

This conversation just turned in the wrong direction.

“True, but I followed your advice, my dearest Foremother. I left the lab and had an adventure, viewed amazing new sights and enriched my spirit. I’m also ready to commit to a love group with Helix, which may eventually mean offspring that you’ll get to spoil, just as you do Aevi. Remember how you despaired of me ever finding anyone but a Pherzul to share my life? We should focus on the positive aspect, not what mistakes I may have made.”

There was a long pause where Inatol muted their end of the communication and then Solsan came back, seeming quite pleased. “I take your point, dearest. Give Inatol a little time to calm down. If you’ve only just arrived home, you must be exhausted. I’ll pet her a little and speak with the others. If you’re amenable, we’d love to visit tomorrow.”

“We would enjoy that,” Helix said.

He hadn’t spoken before now, and she wasn’t sure if Solsan had seen him hovering. Now he moved to the foreground, offering a polite greeting and a warm flutter of head tendrils. Solsan radiated happiness.

“I’m pleased that you can envision building a life with our Qalu,” she said. “Don’t let me keep you, we can talk more tomorrow.”

And they did. The visit passed with surprising ease, despite initial resistance from Inatol. But after a profound scolding, even she softened as she regarded Helix, who was endearingly eager to please. He proved adept at redirection and answered questions in a way that left the listener feeling like their curiosity had been satisfied without him delivering much information. Thankfully Aevi provided a distraction by regaling the mothers with stories about their visit to Barath, how she’d gone adventuring with Snaps, and all about Beryl Bowman. None of Qalu’s mothers were familiar with humans or the planet they hailed from, so gossip about an emergent species dominated the dialogue for quite a while.

“How intriguing,” Beh-latan said. “You encountered multiple humans on your journey? I wonder if they’ll ever come to Tiralan.”

Inatol said, “Never mind that. If you were on Barath, did you take issue with that Choosing? You should have protested the entire—”

“Don’t you think that would have been a trifle rude to her hosts?” Beh-latan asked.

Khrelasa sided with Inatol while Solsan tried to keep the peace. In the end, nothing was resolved because Aevi tipped over a pile of research components and dragged them out into the main room, demanding attention for her misdeed. Inatol fed her handfuls of roasted byr as a reward for being adorable, and if Qalu hadn’t been so glad to be surrounded by her noisy, meddling mothers again, she might’ve interfered. As it was, she watched everyone fondly, realizing how lucky she was, possibly for the first time.

As ever, Helix seemed to scan her thoughts effortlessly.

“You are so fortunate,” he said softly. “And so am I, since they seem willing to allow me into the fold.”

“We’re still watching you,” Inatol said in a cross tone. “But you do receive credit for coming home before it was too late. Our Qalu is not meant to lead a nomadic life. Though she might’ve been willing to follow you, in time, she would’ve been unhappy with the decision.”

“I will do my best never to make her sad,” Helix promised.

At least, to Qalu, it sounded like a vow, not a casual statement.

Eventually, Solsan said, “It’s getting late. We’ll have plenty of time together, now that they’re home for good. We should get back and give these two some privacy.”

They traded bows and chest touches, and Qalu said with all sincerity, “I missed you all so much. I’ll never go away again.”

“Don’t say that,” Khrelasa said briskly. “You may take a notion to go wandering someday. Just know that we’ll always be here waiting. That’s what makes us family.”

[  24  ]

HELIX STILL HADN’T MANAGED TO say the most important words, days after their return home.

Now he fretted that he’d left it too long, missed the opportunity. But no. That was cowardice whispering at him, coyly suggesting that he take the easy way out while leaving certain matters unspoken between them.

He did think there was a tacit understanding, but he wanted their relationship to be a permanent and mutually understood truth with agreement voiced on both sides, not just to appease her mothers but for their own benefit as well.

So once Aevi retired to her cozy nest and darktide fell, he squared up his courage and went to find Qalu, busy in her lab. Helix had no idea what she was working on, as he was occupying the prototype she’d devoted her life to. He would ask about her work, just not now.

“Is this a good time?” he asked.

“You’re always welcome,” she said warmly. “I’m just tying up some loose ends and deciding which direction I want to take my research next. I can’t publish anything about you, or your life would become untenable.”

Miraculously, she didn’t seem to mind sacrificing success or renown, all for his well-being. She must love me, Helix thought. I need to tell her.

“I don’t know how to say this,” he began. “And I may use the wrong words. But I’ve learned everything because of you. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I exist for you. I can’t imagine what it would be like without you, and…I don’t want to. I adore you, Qalu. Will you stay with me, as my partner? My other half and primary member of my love group?”

She dropped the tool she was holding and ran to him, setting forelimbs on his chest in an intimate touch as her head tendrils trembled with love and desire.

“Nothing would make me happier. I thought we both wanted that, but I’m so glad you spoke of it first. Though it might be unreasonable, I still have a small fear that I’ve taken advantage of you somehow.”

“Never. If anything, you were too careful.” Helix pressed against her, loving the warmth of her body, adoring her. “I do wish to talk about something else, however.”

“Anything.”

“When I was fully AI, I used ‘he’ in solidarity with Zylar. I had no real sense of that identity. But as I’ve lived, I have come to realize that I feel no affiliation with that self. I do not wish to change or choose a binary. I prefer my current state. Going forward, I would like my pronoun to be ‘they’, like Carow and Maglan.”

“Understood. I love who you are,” Qalu said.

Helix let the sweetness of her soak in and shifted closer, so their head tendrils could slide together. For once, the reproductive urges shimmered to life when it wasn’t awkward or inconvenient. Longing flooded their body, deeper and more profound than anything they’d felt before, because they had been fully accepted into Qalu’s love group and they had a home, now and forever.

“Would it be permissible for us to celebrate in a more…physical fashion?” Helix asked.

Qalu grasped their forelimb and tugged them toward the sleep platform in the other room. Never again would Helix take for granted sufficient privacy enough to enjoy the benefits of having a body. They let Qalu lead only that far, and then said, “Before now, you’ve devoted yourself to pleasing me. I have been studying…and would enjoy the opportunity to do the same.”

She unfastened her swator and let it fall. “I have no objection.”

Beautiful, from head to toe. That was the only word that fit. They drank in Qalu’s willingness to bare everything and then gently moved her toward the sleep platform, divesting their own garments on the way.

Carefully, Helix leaned over her and touched their chests together, teasing brushes of contact while their head tendrils started the foreplay. Her scales stimulated theirs, creating soft sparks of sensation that flooded their whole body. But Helix wasn’t supposed to get lost in these feelings, not easy when they were so new to this. But they meant to make it good for Qalu, carefully trying all the techniques they had meticulously researched.

Carefully Helix studied Qalu’s expression, every minute response to each touch and adjusted accordingly. More pressure here, less there, until her breath came quick and fast, and her head tendrils undulated wildly. A beautiful bronze deepened her throat, and the spiced smell of her arousal flooded the room, dizzying Helix with the powerful pheromones. For a few moments, they struggled with riotous urges.

“Does that feel good?” A delicate touch.

“You know it does.”

She reached for them, trying to attain more intimate contact.

“Not just yet. I’m curious how much pleasure you can withstand.”

“That’s a bit cruel,” she murmured, breathless.

Not wishing to put too far, they nestled closer and touched their head to Qalu’s as her head tendrils pleaded for completion, plucking here, tugging even, a level of urgency she’d never displayed before. Helix touched their soft, lower sex to hers, savoring the gentleness of it, the glide and heat. They experienced a duality of arousal in this fashion—the hardness aching and the slickness yearning.

Qalu entwined her lower limbs with theirs, moving in tempo with their joined head tendrils. The surging pleasure soon overwhelmed Helix’s ability to guide or control the encounter, and they lost themselves in Qalu—in her shivers and cries and the knowledge that she would always love them, no matter what.

Afterward, she stroked their back and whispered, “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real. I will spend the rest of my life making sure you know how precious you are.”

Helix caught their breath and tried to imagine how they merited so much luck. Other AIs were still being hunted. Then they said, “Do you think we could quietly aid the resistance? They did help us when we needed it, even if our parting didn’t come under ideal circumstances.”

“Definitely. But my financial resources are limited. And now that I certainly won’t be producing results in my field, I will most likely stop receiving the stipend I’ve used for—”

“We don’t need to worry about credits,” Helix said.

“Why not?”

“Because I invested what I stole, after I took it from the syndicate. I returned precisely the amount taken, which means all the dividends I earned while the funds were under my control? I kept them.”

Qalu stared. “Helix. Are you telling me that you’re wealthy now?”

“By what standard?”

“Whisper a number to me.” They did, and she made a shrill, shocked noise. “I have no idea how to process this. We can do whatever we wish for the rest of our lives!”

“Indeed. Research whatever you desire. I will fund it. For my part, I would like to pursue art, as I did in the beginning.”

“I can’t wait to see the beauty you create,” Qalu said.

And they knew it was true. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to get in touch with See-ra at some point. Make sure she and her family have everything they need.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. Truly, I need to thank her.”

“Why?” Helix asked.

“Because of her, I met you.”

A FEW DAYS LATER, QALU left Aevi playing in the hills near their home, eager to accompany Helix to the art museum once more.

It seemed like the perfect outing to seal their relationship and inspire them to work on their own projects going forward. Her mothers would be so excited by confirmation that she was at long last in a committed, loving relationship. Not that Qalu believed her maternal figures when they asserted that a Tiralan could only be happy in that fashion. If she’d never met Helix, she would’ve been happier alone than shoved into a situation that didn’t fit.

Now, however, she had the perfect mate, one who fit her perfectly. Earlier in the day as the light broke, creeping across the floor toward the sleep platform, she hadn’t been able to believe they belonged to her—that they had chosen her and wanted to stay, always.

I’m so lucky.

There were so many ways this could have gone wrong, so many ways the pieces could’ve been broken so badly that there would’ve been no mending them. Instead, she was cozily riding in a transport pod, watching Helix take in the beauties of Tiralan from the aerial view, with enough intensity that one could’ve mistaken it for their first time.

“You’re happy,” she guessed.

At least their posture reflected as much, all contentment. Helix turned to her with a warm look–eyes glittering with adoration. Perhaps she was only letting herself see it now or hadn’t dared believe it before.

“I am. I was thinking about our visit on Barath. Of Zylar and Beryl Bowman. Snaps, who wants to call Aevi on the holo, and how your mothers scolded me and then welcomed me home. Like I’m…”

“Family?” she suggested.

“Yes.”

“You are now. They will meddle in your life as much as they do mine. Inatol will push contacts with art critics on you, and Solsan will try to find out your favorite food so she can make it for you.”

“Roasted nornroot,” they said at once.

Qalu failed to suppress the amused sound. “I already told her.”

“I hope you’ll continue to be patient with me as I learn. In all likelihood, I’ll upset you and get things wrong. I won’t know the right words, or I’ll say the wrong ones. Living as an organic being is still rather new to me.”

Gently, she touched their forelimb as the transport pod descended. “That’s true of every being, Helix. Please be tolerant of my mistakes as well, for I’ve only lived with Aevi for a long time. I cherish her, but her emotional needs are not complex.”

“Patience. Tolerance.” They repeated the words like they were important enough to be memorized. “We can do this. I believe in us.”

Qalu felt like her entire spirit might be singing, as if her frame should rightfully be limned in light. “So do I.”

The museum was as she remembered it, though the displays had shifted. A few of Helix’s favorites were gone, replaced by more mechanical works, and it amused her to hear them describe the pieces as “soulless,” lacking in vitality. Terrible factions might hunt inorganic beings for the same reasons, but she had no doubt that Helix possessed a beautiful soul, the esoteric energy that rendered them unique and precious.

For half the day, they walked together, admiring various artworks, and then they ate lunch together. Paid in full by Helix. It was strange for Qalu to process the idea that she no longer needed to worry about anyone validating her work or deciding if she was on the right track. So many scientists would sell their own mothers for the opportunity that she’d been given. Complete creative freedom, complete control.

I can’t wait to get started.

In some ways, they complemented each other perfectly. Because while Helix was drawn to art, they understood her work effortlessly, so she could talk about it without losing their interest. And Qalu had more than a passing interest in art, the process of creation, so she looked forward to hearing about what inspired Helix.

Two halves of a whole? Or maybe she just wanted to believe that because she loved them so much.

“We should probably get back,” she said reluctantly. “I don’t like to leave Aevi too long, especially when she’s roving outside.”

“We can always come back,” Helix said. “We have all the time in the world now.”

That filled her with such a warm glow, that she almost let her head tendrils touch theirs again. At the last moment, she refrained, remembering the judgmental looks they’d gotten last time they showed a bit too much affection in public.

Best to save it for when we get home.

Home. What a lovely word.

She stepped a little closer to Helix, though, wanting to feel a whisper of their warmth, even passing through the museum. They were on their way out when an unwelcome voice greeted them.

“I haven’t seen you in a long time,” Gravitch said.

Why is he here again? Does he live in the museum? Or stalking me?

Qalu had never been less pleased to see one of Inatol’s rejected prospects. Gravitch had been devoted to importuning her since she’d declined to socialize with him a second time. He also enjoyed flexing his control over her career in obvious ways. Before, she had to tolerate it. Not anymore.

“Gravitch,” she said coldly.

“You vanished on me!” he said.

“I tried,” she muttered.

The odious bureaucrat continued as if she hadn’t spoken, as that was his way. “You haven’t submitted any materials for the awards nominations. I thought you were close to a breakthrough. Do you want to talk about it?” Unadulterated glee disguised as sympathy.

He’s hoping to gloat over my failure.

“No.” Her tone was curt for a reason.

“You missed the deadline to apply to extend your research period. I’m afraid the coalition has no choice but to cut your funding.” Gravitch appeared to enjoy that revelation far too much, like he expected her to grovel or beg him to intervene since he was so very important.

Before Qalu could respond, Helix did. “Do you know this person?”

Their memory was perfect, so they must be teaching Gravitch a lesson.

“Unfortunately,” she murmured.

“I see.” Helix addressed their next statement to Gravitch, icy as only a former AI could be. “Please refrain from speaking to us in the future. My mate doesn’t like you, and you’ve made a poor impression on me as well.”

“You can’t treat me like that! I’ll see you blacklisted. Your funding—”

“If it wasn’t clear, I’ll be funding her research from this point on. She has no need for you or any organization that thinks an unctuous helminth like you ought to occupy any important role. Now if you’ll excuse us, our Pherzul is waiting.”

Helix swept her away, leaving Gravitch to choke on his own outrage. Maybe she should try to explain why cutting connections in that way was impolitic, but mostly, she was too busy basking in the satisfaction of the moment to care.

“Was that too far?” Helix asked eventually, when they were in the pod heading home. “Should I not have said that?”

She considered. “If it had been anyone else, maybe so. But with Gravitch? No. It was perfect. I loved it.”

“Excellent, because I fear I’ve learned that I have a temper. I will have little patience or tolerance for anyone who mistreats you. I will crush them without mercy.”

“I love you,” she said, because the feeling bubbled up irresistibly.

“And I, you. You are my life,” Helix said.

The pod was private enough. She leaned in and let their head tendrils lace together, all heat and tingly nerves.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing that.”

“Do you want to expand our love group?” they asked suddenly.

“Right this moment?”

“No, that would be difficult. The pod is rather small. But I’ve been thinking on it, and this body is fully capable of producing offspring. I wondered if you wanted them.”

“Eventually, I think. Do you?”

“Yes. It would give me great joy to create life with you, to nurture our little one and teach them, just as we do Aevi.”

Such a beautiful future. Qalu couldn’t wait to get started on living it with her other half. It could be argued that the ability to love was embedded in her DNA, and their love was etched in her genetic material, as her imprint could be found in the code that made Helix who they were.

Love code—her DNA and their data, beautifully intertwined like Tiralan head tendrils, the perfect pairing for Helix and Qalu to live happily ever after.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Interesting footnote, the Tiralan evolved from human DNA, but they ended up with head tendrils and scales instead of hair. I’m sure you’re wondering where I got my inspiration for the alien sex in this book. And it’s a combination of snakes (don’t Google, seriously, but if you must – ‘Snake sex is every bit as peculiar as you would expect’ or ‘snake breeding ball’) and worms (check out ‘A Worm With Three Sexes Has Been Discovered Thriving in a Nearly Lifeless Lake’.) Are you back? Good. Whew. I told you not to look.

Anyway! In LOVE CODE, I played with the Stargate premise of advanced aliens taking humans back in the day and seeding them through the galaxy as an experiment. I wanted to work it into the story, but the reveal didn’t fit the plot, so I’m putting the info here. Because I can. In this universe, there are five aliens that came from human stock, though they’ve diverged widely over the millennia.

I could say more, but spoilers! See, I can’t just write a duology. It’s against my credo. Which means there will be one more book, wrapping up the Galactic Love series. (Yes, it’s about Yara Duncan and Toth Krag.) Look for RENEGADE LOVE in January 2022, or you can subscribe to my newsletter on annaguirre.com to read it as a serial. (You can also keep up with my news, book releases, and enter exclusive giveaways.)

If you enjoyed LOVE CODE, peruse my other work. I’ve written in many genres, including urban fantasy and science fiction. Currently, I have a paranormal romance series that starts with THE LEOPARD KING.

Finally, please consider leaving a review on Amazon if you loved this book. Your feedback helps me a lot, and it guides other readers to stories they’ll adore too. Thanks so much for your time and support.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Contents

About the Book

Dedication

Copyright Page

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Author’s Note