by Pippa Jay
The calcium structures... Her memory poked her, reminding her of the creature’s bones. That was how it grew so tall and remained so rigid, even when broken. She had tasted them as she put the broken ones back together, knew their composition as well as she knew her own. She’d need more calcium to replicate them, and other elements too, but she could find them. She set off to find the mineral cliffs that would give her what she needed.
YORAN SAT HUDDLED ON the floor, the sound of his own thundering heart and rasping breaths filled his ears. What the hell had that thing been? How long had it been here? What had it done to him?
The pain had returned in full force, pounding through his head and ripping across his chest. His left leg throbbed as if it had been broken, and most of his skin felt scorched. Not as bad as he might have feared after an impact like that, but if he didn’t take something for it he’d pass out. Already his vision had blurred and darkened, and he couldn’t think straight. Drugs. First aid kit. Cabin.
Yoran uncurled and dragged himself across the floor. Attempting to stand sent a flare of agony through his legs that crippled him for a few moments until the feeling eased. Walking wasn’t an option. Instead he crawled, every moment augmenting the agony until he wanted to pass out right then and there. Pain pulsed through him, hammering in his head, threatening to split him apart. But it wouldn’t get any better if he didn’t get to that medikit.
There wasn’t enough power in the ship to operate doors, but he managed to force the cabin one open far enough to slide himself through. He levered himself up onto the bed and retrieved the kit, his hands shaking so badly half the contents fell across the floor. He barely got a shot of painkiller into himself before collapsing on the bed as the room went completely dark.
SHE DUG A THOUSAND tiny cilia into the porous gaps in the rock before pumping in acid and dissolving it. As it turned to frothing liquid, she sucked it in, drawing it deeper inside to combine with other elements and grow her first bone. The process was slow and painstaking as she replicated every detail she’d learned from Yoran’s body and memories. He had very little understanding of his own composition, but what he knew enabled her to put samples and knowledge together, just as she did with the chemicals. She couldn’t completely copy a human being since some elements weren’t available or her form couldn’t process them. But there was enough for a good approximation, and that was all she needed.
If it doesn’t work, it won’t matter how perfect I make it... She tried to ignore the quiver of uncertainty. Nothing had made her doubt herself as much as this alien, first from her ability to help him to this absurd effort to mold herself into a more acceptable image. But everyone came to her when they needed help, because they knew she would. She’d never done so much for a single entity, and yet if she didn’t try all her efforts to save the stranger would have been for nothing. Instead, she focused on the bone, sculpting the shape of it and laying it carefully aside as she started on the next.
YORAN GROANED. HIS whole body ached, and sweat had soaked the fabric beneath his back. Agony pulsed through him at the slightest movement, and nausea churned his stomach. Had he picked up an infection? Or was this down to his injuries? He tried to pull himself upright, but the pain was too much and he sagged back onto the mattress. So, it was worse than he’d thought. And now, too late, it occurred to him that maybe that strange entity he’d shot had been helping him in some way. He’d felt a damn sight better until the moment he’d fought it off and the pain had come roaring back. Now it seemed like he was going to die after all.
“Damn fool,” he muttered. “That thing might just have saved your stupid, useless life...”
SHE STOOD AND TREMBLED. Being far from the ground had never bothered her before, but in this strange new form with weird new senses, the distance to the rock beneath her newly-formed feet left her dizzy and afraid of falling. How did humans cope with this?
Her first step had sent her tumbling. She’d increased her density to hold the new shape, and the impact had hurt. No more painless undulations across the surface. The curious vulnerability of this shape frightened her. In her true form she could tumble from a cliff and suffer no trauma, even if she split apart and her fragments scattered. She could simply reform. But this body could be damaged, could have its sensitive surface scraped away by rough rocks, be pierced by sharp objects. It could shatter under excessive force. And this was what humans must deal with every day—not just vulnerability, but pain and mortality. She wasn’t sure if she could go through with this.
But Yoran needs me. Even if he hadn’t realized it yet, she hadn’t healed him enough to make for a complete recovery. He could still die. And somehow, she couldn’t allow that. It went against everything she held sacred, what she saw as her duty and the meaning for her existence. The only reason the others of her kind ever came to her.
She forced herself to stand again, to take another uncertain step, to feel the pain of stone fragments digging into her soles and the nearby rock face scraping the palm of her hand. Each step was a battle, and yet each one a victory. She would do this, to save the entity called Yoran.
SOMEONE LEANED OVER him. A naked woman with skin the color of hematite—black, but with a metallic sheen—while glowing lines of white light streaked her whole body. Yoran shuddered, blinking. Was he hallucinating? How could she be here, looking like that?
“Chevelle?” he murmured. “What are you doing here? Why did you follow me?”
A cold hand touched his forehead, heavy as stone yet soft. With his skin burning, the caress cooled him and took some of the pain away. He relaxed a fraction.
“Shh. You’re safe. I can fix the pain.”
Yoran groaned. That wasn’t Chevelle. She’d never spoken with such tenderness to him, even when he’d promised her what she wanted. Was this the alien creature that he’d seen before? But it looked so different. Almost human.
“Yes. I am the healer. I’m sorry I frightened you before.”
“No.” His voice shook so badly he could barely get the words out. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I...didn’t mean to hurt you.” Didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Not Chevelle. Not my father. I’m a failure...
He swallowed, his throat so dry it hurt.
“Shh.” She moved her hands over his body, and each time she touched his skin the pain receded and the burning eased. His breathing settled; his thready heartbeat slowed.
“Thank you,” he whispered, and slipped back into the warm, golden euphoria of sleep.
SHE WATCHED HIS FACE as he slid back into unconsciousness. In his panic, he’d reopened his internal wounds and snapped the repair to his left leg. Fever and infection had set in, undoing all her initial work.
Foolish human. The words came without warning, startling her. A feeling new to her. More than frustration. It was anger.
Why am I angry?
Because it’s his own fault. Because he’s an ignorant, imperfect creature who shot you when you were just trying to help.
She focused on calming herself. Anger was a new sensation, and it frightened her. What other strange impulses would this form subject her to? And yet, she also welcomed the experience. It was new, different, exciting. A challenge. She would learn so much from this, and both of them would benefit from the knowledge.
She let the anger flow until it faded into familiar calm, and filed away the sensations in the memories she would one day pass to the next generations. They would know and understand about humans, and be the wiser for it.
HE WAS WOKEN BY HIS stomach growling in complaint. His mouth felt like he’d been swallowing dust for a week. Dim lights in his cabin meant it must be dark outside and the ship’s solar backup was functioning. As for him...
Yoran forced himself upright, grimacing at the tiny sharp pains across his ribs. He must have broken some of them, but once he was upright the pain faded to discomfort. His left leg still throbbed, and sitting up set his head pounding, but not bad for someone who’d crash landed and almost killed himsel
f.
And what about that...creature? What had she called herself? The healer. He was alone in his cabin, but since he appeared to be alive she’d not borne a grudge considering how he’d first greeted her. Hardly surprising that she hadn’t stuck around, though. He’d been lucky she’d come back the second time. If he’d been her, he wouldn’t have dared, and so it made sense she’d gone now. Shame, because he owed her a lot.
He swung his legs off the bed and eased himself to standing. Pain jolted up his left leg, but not so bad that he couldn’t put some pressure on it. The painkillers were still scattered across the floor, and he lowered himself into a crouch to reclaim them. A quick shot to the leg, and he felt ready to go hunting for some edibles. He could put a lot of his disorientation and shakes down to a lack of food and water right now.
Yoran limped to the tiny space passing itself off as a galley. First he poured half a liter of cool, clear water down his throat until it audibly sloshed around his empty stomach. Then he grabbed a couple of emergency ration packs out of the cupboard without even bothering to read the labels. The taste right now was irrelevant. Tearing into the chewy blocks took more effort than he expected even in his weakened state, and swallowing had him reaching for the water again to wash it down. But each mouthful made him feel more human. More solid. And, unfortunately, more in touch with the reality around him.
He looked around the galley. The dimness of the lighting meant that whatever solar energy the ship could suck up was barely maintaining life support systems. The main engine core had failed before impact, and he had no idea if that would be repairable. While everything had stayed locked in storage despite the attack and the crash, appearances were probably deceptive. The galley was irrelevant. It would be the integrity of the hull, the controls, and the power systems that mattered, and the latter must be damaged for certain.
His stomach tightened, and he dropped the half-eaten protein bar onto the worktop. He couldn’t face any more. He needed to know how bad the situation was before he decided if it was worth trying to stay alive.
He made his way to the control room, leaning on the wall as his left leg complained. Someone sat in lotus position on the floor of the control room, head back and arms outstretched to bask in the brittle white moonlight pouring through the window. Yoran froze. It must be the alien, her glossy black skin glowing wherever the light touched it, shifting white lines skimming over her surface. Even her hair was made of fine filaments of the same odd material and moved as if stirred by a nonexistent breeze. Not human. But if she’d made such an effort to make herself like him, for whatever reason, he’d mind his manners and not mention the telltale inhuman signs.
He cleared his throat. “Um, hi.” He flinched at his pathetic attempt at a greeting, one hand rubbing his neck. Not even a twitch acknowledged his presence or his words. Was she deliberately ignoring him? Was she asleep? What was he supposed to do to get her attention?
“Hello?” He took another step, but still no response. “Hey!” Lost for ideas, he stomped on the floor. “Knock, knock?”
Her head jerked in his direction at the stamp of his foot. Was it the sound, or just the vibrations? She hadn’t responded to his voice at all.
She rose to her feet and turned her body toward him in one oddly fluid motion, as if she flowed into the position. Her expression was calm, her body relaxed, something he hadn’t expected. Did she trust him not to shoot her again?
Again, her likeness to Chevelle came like a punch to the chest. That soft oval face framed by her hair, arched brows, wide forehead and full mouth. Why that face? Did she have any idea what it did to him? “You look different.” Yoran wanted to slap himself. Damn, he knew he wasn’t much good with women, and her looking like Chevelle didn’t help, but this was beyond bad first date failures.
Rather than replying, she stepped toward him, her movements unusually jerky, like a baby learning to walk. At one point she stumbled and he thought she’d fall, but she righted herself before halting directly in front of him. She raised her hand and made to touch him.
He jerked back, then cursed himself. She froze, her expression unchanged and her hand still held toward him. He sucked in a breath. C’mon, man, she saved your life. You already know her touching you isn’t going to harm you.
He closed the gap between them so that her palm rested on his chest. Her touch was cool, and yet it warmed him.
A voice spoke inside his head, “You are feeling better?”
“Yeah. Yes, I am. Thanks.” So she needs to touch me to talk to me? He gestured to her hand on him. “Is this the only way you can communicate?”
“I know no other way.”
“You can’t talk like me?” He pointed to his mouth. “I mean, you’ve taken this form. This is how we communicate. Do you understand sound?”
“Sound?”
Yoran sighed. He was asking a lot from a being who frankly owed him nothing whatsoever, and yet to whom he owed a great deal.
“It doesn’t matter.” After all, it didn’t seem to stop them understanding one another. He gestured toward her. “You did this for me?”
“No!” The lines of light pulsed faster across her skin. Was that anger? Embarrassment? After all, she didn’t appear able to blush. “I did it so that you’d be less afraid of me. I know I am strange to you, just as you are strange to me.”
“And yet you saved my life.”
“I am the healer.”
“You say that like you’re the only one.”
“There is no other like me.”
“No one like you, or just no one else who can heal?”
She tilted her head. “There are many of us, but each has their own special gift. Mine is to heal.”
There are more of them. But she was the only one who had come to help him. “So...do you have a name?”
“Name?”
“Yeah, a name. Like...I’m Yoran, but that isn’t what I do. I’m an architect.”
“What is architect?”
“I design buildings.” He shrugged. He loved his job, but no one else had ever seemed to understand that or appreciate his passion for it. Especially not Chevelle. Not even after he’d done his best to help her study law by staying up all hours of the night and day to test her on her revision. He shook his head to clear the bitter memories. Didn’t matter now.
She appeared to consider his explanation. “When the others call for my help, they use the word soraya.”
“Soraya?” The name rolled easily off his tongue. “What does that mean?”
“It means...” She hesitated, and her uncertainty bled into him. “It is a word for someone or something most treasured and beautiful. I...don’t really deserve such an honor.” Her light patterns shifted. Was that her equivalent of blushing? She seemed almost embarrassed to admit what she was called.
He smiled. “Well, you are that. Can I call you Soraya then?”
“If you like.”
“I would like. I’d also like to apologize. I’m sorry that I hurt you. It’s a pretty poor thank you for saving my life.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze skittering away from her. Her likeness to Chevelle did strange things to his insides, even discounting the undeniably alien nature of her skin. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you can help fix my spacecraft too?”
Soraya looked around the ship. “Perhaps. I’m not sure if there is a replacement for your power source here.”
Her response sparked hope and despair in the same instant. “Oh. Well. Anything’s better than nothing. They might come looking for me.”
“They?”
“Oh...” Again, he rubbed his neck. Would Torvik and the others come back? If they’d wanted to be sure of his death, surely they’d already have blasted his ship, just in case? “Um, it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.” He sighed again. “I’d better start checking the ship’s systems, see how bad it is.”
HE BROKE THEIR CONTACT, and it left her feeling cold. How strange. She’d never had that sense of loss at
disconnecting from one of her own kind, nor the pull to renew their bond and stay in his thoughts. She held very still as she watched him move to the console of his ship and touch buttons, his expression increasingly morose at the results. Fascinating. He had an aura, like any living thing, but the colors were different to any she had known, so difficult for her to read even from what she knew of him. There was no logic to them. And yet she could read the darkening expression on his face, the droop of his shoulders, and the lessening of his enthusiasm. This form gave her a different perception, one more akin to his. And she could tell he wasn’t happy. That he was distressed. That whatever he’d been hoping for, he wasn’t finding.
At long last he turned to face her, his expression grim. His mouth moved, his aura dimmed, but she couldn’t tell what was troubling him. She walked up to him, and shivered as she renewed their contact. His strange aura warmed her own.
“Bad news?”
“Yup. Looks like you might be stuck with me for a while. Maybe permanently.” He gestured at the raised panels. “Engine core is fractured. Enough power to maintain the atmosphere and basic life support, but I can’t take off. And there are several ruptures in the hull. I can fix those eventually. But I’ll never get back into space.”
His disappointment bled through her, dark and cold. She echoed it at the thought of him leaving, but quickly squashed that thought. Yoran didn’t belong on this world. It could kill him. And her greatest joy lay in helping others.
“You want to get back to your stars?”
Yoran gave a lopsided grin, and something inside her sang.
“That’s an odd way of putting it. I’d just like to get home.”
The sense of longing coming from him set her energy lines pulsing. “What’s it like?”
