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.