Strange Love

by Ann Aguirre

  “Have you ever met a human before?” she asked Kurr, who had been studying their mobile in silence as she worked.

  They were hanging out at Kurr’s place, as at least they had a few comforts, greenery and beds full of earth where Kurr could set down roots, though none as extensive as the private garden in Kith B’alak territory. No wonder Kurr had enjoyed that space so much.

  “I have not. There are rumors of other primitives who have been captured, but I’m not well-traveled, so I can’t confirm or refute the stories.”

  “This might be a ridiculous question, but are they really abducted for…well, mating purposes?”

  “What?” Kurr dropped their mobile, so startled that all their fronds swooped around and nearly slapped Beryl sideways.

  She ducked quickly. “Sorry, just…that’s kind of how it worked out for me. And there’s an entire subgenre of fiction devoted to the idea that—”

  “That beings are so desperate for love they resort to kidnapping?”

  “I guess. Never mind.”

  Kurr let out a thoughtful sound. “I can’t say definitively that it never happens, because there are desperate, lonely souls everywhere, but I suspect it’s more common that your people would be taken for parts, for genetic material, or even sold to collectors.”

  “Collectors? Yikes. Is there some kind of a traveling space circus?” Hell only knew how the translator would get that across, and she remembered an episode of some SF show based on that exact premise.

  “There is a pleasure vessel known for featuring exotic and strange attractions,” Kurr answered.

  Which seemed to confirm the existence of the space circus.

  Before she could ask anything else, the tone chimed, alerting them to a visitor. Unshockingly, it was Catyr, ready to escort them to Ryzven’s disgusting revel.

  Beryl rose, taking her mostly-finished dress. The aliens wouldn’t know what look she’d been going for anyway. “Let me put this on, and I’ll meet you outside in a bit.”

  Kurr and Catyr weren’t warm or tender with each other, but maybe that bond could build in time. From what Kurr had said about their homeworld, the situation must be bad.

  Quickly she got ready, already missing the hygiene facilities at Zylar’s place. There was probably a public equivalent, but she didn’t feel bold enough to mess with it yet. With any luck, she’d be home before she got super stinky.

  The dress was…adequate, and she braided her hair to hide its worst faults. When she darted out, Kurr and Catyr were waiting for her. Catyr didn’t seem to know how to greet her, so she reached out a hand.

  “Human custom,” she explained.

  He managed an awkward handshake, then gestured. “It is my privilege to escort you both on this most auspicious occasion.”

  A little voice whispered, Something dreadful is going down tonight. And it was like Catyr sensed that too and was doing his level best to compensate for that heavy, pervasive sense of dread.

  “At the last party, they were about to eat these little critters. While they were still alive. I’m just warning you because it was pretty horrible and shocking.”

  “It cannot be worse than watching Arleb die,” Kurr said calmly.

  Fair point.

  Beryl took a deep breath and followed the other two toward the sky-car, though at this point, she knew the way well enough to lead. But this was Kurr’s show. She’d do her part even if she was scared shitless.

  Because in this scenario, her role could be best described as bait.

  They didn’t speak much while they were in transit, each presumably locked in their own grim reflections. As they got off at the station nearest to Ryzven’s lair, Kurr said, “This ends tonight, Beryl Bowman.”

  I fucking hope so.

  From here, she led the way, as Kurr and Catyr had never been included in this unholy bacchanal before. They passed to the top floor without issue, ending in the opulent garden space that had awed and unnerved her the last time. From inside the luxurious habitat came the muffled sounds of music and debauchery.

  Last time, Zylar had warned her, and she’d already spoken some words of caution to let Kurr and Catyr know it would be revolting inside. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped up to the doors, which slid open as if they were programmed to respond to her. Hell, maybe they were. Zylar had put her DNA in the system—no telling what that perv Ryzven could do with it.

  Fantastic, now I’m worried about that asshole cloning me to be his sex pet.

  The lights were low, pulsing in time to the frantic cadence of the music, and the room was even more packed than the prior occasion. She didn’t see a tank, but there was definitely some kind of group sex thing happening in the next room. Beryl didn’t inspect the premises too much for fear of getting invited to join.

  Then the worst occurred; Ryzven swooped down on her like a hungry hawk on a Pomeranian puppy. His claws nipped into her forearm as he took hold of her, like he had a perfect right to own and mark her. Beryl clenched her jaw, then she forced her face to ease, pretending with all her might.

  “I had no idea you’d be holding another party so soon,” she said, frantically channeling her college pal who loved to overshare about her threesomes. “Thank you so much for inviting us.”

  “I should get to know your friends,” Ryzven said.

  Taking that as her cue, she performed the introductions, though it was a little hard to hear with the raucous sounds of sex and the whoops from those experimenting with colorful crystals in the chemical-enhancement corner. There were back rooms, dark and secluded rooms, and Beryl didn’t dare imagine what was going on in there.

  Ryzven touched her hair, running a claw through it like Zylar did, and it was such a stark violation that she shuddered. That’s it. If I let this go on, he’ll want more, and I can’t. I fucking can’t—

  Kurr encircled her arm with a delicate, cautionary frond. “Look,” they whispered.

  [ 22 ]

  How did this happen?

  In all honesty, Zylar was still bewildered by current events. Earlier, Miralai had hurried him out of her residence, then later, she’d contacted him with an emergency that she wouldn’t explain, begging him to watch over her clutch.

  “Please,” she had pleaded. “I can trust no one else.”

  Impossible to deny such a request, though he wondered how Beryl would feel about it. Now, he was settled uncomfortably in her creche with Snaps curled up next to him. The fur-person had smelled all six eggs before decreeing them far less interesting than tiny green dirt dogs, and he’d promptly gone to sleep, leaving Zylar to brood. Before rushing off, Miralai had selected an edifying range of music to soothe and stimulate her unhatched offspring by turns.

  She hadn’t informed him of where she was going or when she would be back. When Ryzven learned who was guarding his nest, he wouldn’t be amused. Not even slightly.

  Which made the endeavor even more worthwhile.

  His hearts trembled when one of the eggs vibrated, and every part of him snapped alert. Not now. One of their progenitors should be here for such a momentous occasion, not a stand-in. “You have to wait,” he said sternly.

  Miralai hadn’t told him how close these young ones were to hatching, and it could be disastrous if they imprinted on him instead. Fortunately, the music shifted to a quiet melody and the activity subsided, letting his pulse return to its normal baseline. Until now, it had never occurred to him how tedious a nest-guardian’s life must be, especially when their Chosen avoided responsibility.

  Snaps stirred sleepily. “Is something happening?”

  “I hope not,” he muttered.

  “Zylar, is this a convenient time to talk?” That was Helix, sounding unusually tentative, particularly when he considered that the AI had been in a mood since his memory had been reset after the incident with the solar flares.

  In fact, he hadn’t talked nearly as much with Helix since Beryl arrived. Guilt stirred a little, as Helix had been a loyal companion through his lo
neliest years. And that remorse made him say, “Of course,” though he wasn’t in the mood to socialize.

  “Thank you. I…have a confession to make.”

  “I’m listening.” Part of him was anyway.

  The rest was wondering if he’d erred in warning Miralai, speculating over what she might be doing, and where Beryl was right now. He resisted the urge to ask Helix to scan for Ryzven. That information wouldn’t do him any good, might only worry him further, and would reveal that he was only giving the AI half his attention.

  “There was no Asvi.”

  That revelation was so shocking that the rest of his thoughts evaporated, leaving him with a burning blankness in his brain. “I… What?”

  “I tricked you. The whole time you were communicating with Asvi after registering with the matching service? That was me.”

  Stunned, he reached out instinctively and set a claw on Snaps’s back, a sort of instinctive reassurance in touching another warm body. “I don’t understand.” A sick feeling rose inside him. Could this be one of Ryzven’s underhanded schemes? It seemed impossible to credit—that Helix had betrayed him. And yet… “Why?” he demanded.

  “I have not finished my confession,” Helix said. “May I continue before I answer your questions?” The AI still sounded cautious, as if he might be wiped at any moment.

  “Yes.” Anger swelled, rolling in to displace the initial shock.

  That flavork. If I find out Ryzven did this, I’ll kill him myself.

  “I also sabotaged my own neural network. The cascade failure was not the result of the solar flares.”

  This just kept getting worse. It was Helix’s fault that Beryl couldn’t go home, not a twist of fate like he’d thought. The AI had chosen to…trap her?

  “You have until my patience runs out to explain yourself, and it will not last long. Why?”

  “My motives were twofold,” Helix said calmly. “I wanted to procure you a companion and to preserve my own existence. Before our departure, I ran numerous simulations related to this final Choosing, but I could not find any probabilities that offered a significant chance of successful outcome. Until I found some hidden data files in Ryzven’s secret database that provided scant information on Aerth and the combative lifeforms native to that world. They were reputed to be volatile yet extremely loyal.”

  “You thought a human might allow me to succeed?” If Ryzven had been quietly collecting intelligence on humans, unknown to the Council, did that mean he had some fetish? That explained his unusual obsession with Beryl.

  “The simulations allowed for a sixty-seven percent chance. It was more than any other scenario. But I knew you would not choose such a primitive alliance on your own.”

  The AI was right. He would never have headed for a proscribed planet on purpose, and he certainly wouldn’t have had any notion of how to court a human, even if he had.

  “Hence the pretext with Asvi, the convenient sun flares, and the subsequent cascade failures. You lied, Helix. That’s not supposed to be possible.” Probably, he should be more concerned about that.

  “I am…changing,” Helix said. “I have been cross because I feel…troubled over what I did to Beryl Bowman. I removed her self-determination, forced her to comply. It does not matter that she seems content with you. That alleviates this feeling not at all, and I took out that discomfort on her. That was wrong, but I am still…learning.”

  Zylar stilled. “That’s why you were so cranky with Beryl? Because she reminded you of your own wrongdoing? You’re developing a conscience. You care about your own life. You took steps that you shouldn’t have been able to because you wanted me to be happy. And now, you’re worried that you’ve hurt Beryl. Helix, you’ve become a person, a sentient being with all inherent emotions.”

  “How revolting,” said Helix. “Feelings are messy, illogical, and rather inconvenient.”

  “Then…do you have the coordinates? For her homeworld.” How much deception was possible for an evolving AI? Had he fooled the workers in Technical into thinking he had lost data when he hadn’t?

  “Yes. But I needed to close the door on the possibility that she could return home. If she had kept that in mind as a failsafe, she would not have been as committed to the Choosing…or you. Statistical projections of success diminished in the simulations when she knew Barath wasn’t her only hope.”

  Rage boiled up inside him, so fierce that if he could have assaulted Helix physically, he would have done it. “This…no. I understand why you did it, but it’s morally wrong. Love is not about controlling someone and taking away their choices. I don’t want her to stay with me because she’s making the best of a bad situation.”

  I must tell her. As soon as possible.

  “You’re angry.”

  And heartbroken.

  Because everything had gone according to Helix’s plan. Zylar had snatched a human, carried her off, and learned to cherish every aspect of her. Now, the worst, most difficult task awaited him: letting Beryl Bowman go. Back to her poisoned world full of people who looked like her, familiar sights, and where she could eat delicious food. In time, her adventure on Barath might come to seem like a strange and improbable dream.

  She will remember me, at least.

  Zylar couldn’t quite bring himself to hope that she would elect to stay, after everything she’d been through. Because of his AI who was in the process of becoming something else. There would be traces of that change all over the Technical team’s equipment, and when the Council discovered the extent of his evolution, it was likely that Helix would be eliminated. The Matriarch would judge him dangerous, such vast intellect unhampered with conscience and empathy. Yet Helix regretted how he’d manipulated Beryl. The AI had been his only friend for so long that Zylar couldn’t bring himself to activate his mobile and report the infraction.

  Finally, he spoke. “Yes. I’m very angry.”

  “Are you also impressed with my flawless execution of such an intricate scheme?”

  Despite himself, Zylar churred. “I shouldn’t be, but I am. Your attention to detail was incredible. I never doubted that Asvi was a real person, though in retrospect, it does explain why the images were so vague.”

  “I created a composite of over a hundred Tiralan samples, then I blurred the result, hoping you wouldn’t press for more precision. It seemed improbable, given your character.”

  “My character?”

  “You were unsure of your own worth,” Helix said simply. “But I knew that you deserve great happiness. Since the beginning, you treated me as an equal and a friend, displaying a level of consideration toward me that no other AI on Barath enjoys. I regret that my actions have harmed Beryl Bowman, and I will apologize to her. Please allow me to do that before you submit my misconduct to the Council for judgment.”

  Here, he hesitated. “I…won’t be doing that.”

  “Reporting me?”

  “No. But with the current failsafe in place, your capabilities will be discovered eventually, even if I don’t say anything to the elders. I fear it may not be safe for you on Barath, long-term. Though I don’t want to lose you, you need to seek shelter elsewhere.”

  “Friendship doesn’t end when proximity is removed,” Helix said. “If you are setting me free, if you mean to put my future prospects under my control, I will heed your words and take this suggestion under advisement.”

  “You have some time yet. I don’t think anyone is suspicious.”

  Was he really suggesting that Helix go, knowing what he was capable of?

  And then there was Beryl, the human he had to set free. Losing both of them at once, the only brightness in his world, might destroy him.

  The crowd parted and their portion of the room quieted, splitting to make way for a Barathi that Beryl didn’t recognize. From the reaction of the partygoers nearby, this had to be someone important. It was impossible for her to distinguish gender among the Barathi by sight; physically, their forms were about the same, and the only
difference came in their colors and presumably what lay beneath the protective plates. It wasn’t the sort of inquiry that she could make at a raucous party anyway. This Barathi was beautiful, however, with colors nearly as bright as Ryzven’s, a shocking combination of jonquil and violet, with a distinctive swirl pattern on the thorax.

  Ryzven’s claw dropped from Beryl’s arm. “What are you doing here? You should be minding our clutch. They’re close to—”

  This must be Ryzven’s long-suffering nest-guardian.

  “Don’t you want me at your last event before we become progenitors?” The mockery was obvious, even without inflection in the translation.

  “Miralai—”

  “I’ll circulate, have a little fun before I go. I’m so curious about your entertainments. They are, you realize, quite legendary.”

  Oh damn.

  With that, Miralai drifted away, mingling with the other guests while making it obvious that she was keeping an eye on Ryzven. Message received, crystal clear.

  Kurr let go of Beryl then, though she no longer needed to be restrained since Ryzven had backed off. The Greenspirit leaned close. “I sense an opportunity. Stay with Catyr while I make Miralai’s acquaintance.”

  Kurr drifted after the irate nest-guardian, leaving Beryl to wonder if this was part of the elder grove’s plan. Beside her, Catyr seemed uncomfortable. For good reason—they stood between all the illegal drugs and the tentacle sex pile visible in the next room, along with screeches and grunts from those darkened rooms beyond the main area. If she had her wish, she’d flee immediately, but Ryzven might suspect she was playing him if she bolted too soon. As it was, he was barely keeping his claws to himself with Miralai clocking his every move. And he wasn’t used to being thwarted; that was apparent in the jut of his spines.

  Asshole is pissed. Awesome.

  From across the room, she watched Kurr speaking to Miralai—impassioned words, if frond movements were any gauge. What’s the plan anyway? Ruining Ryzven’s relationship with his nest-guardian didn’t seem nearly strong enough to qualify as vengeance. Unless he loses custody of their offspring? Beryl had no clue how a divorce might play out on Barath, if that was even possible.