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.