by Amber Stuart
"What is better?" I said, speaking louder over the water. "Getting sick?"
"Yes," he said. “They implanted you. It will take time to adjust.”
I tried to take that in, too, but couldn't. Instead, my words grew angry again.
"Why me?” I said. “What do they want with me, Nik?”
But he seemed to misunderstand the question.
"Not you.” He sat back, resting more of his weight on his heels. Giving me a rueful look, he rubbed the center of his chest with one hand, as if in demonstration of his words. "Everyone. Here, anyway. We all wear them. Mine is more controlled than yours... a lock, since they cannot keep track of morph otherwise. But all have the emotional monitors, too. It is important to them, to believe everyone is happy. To believe no one is angry... that everyone can be controlled. The Malek do this, too. It is why they implanted you first, before anything else."
There was a silence.
I fought to control my breathing as he looked at me, to not succumb to the horror that fell over me at his words.
"You learn how to fool the machines," he assured me. He laid a hand on my arm, as if reacting to something he saw on my face. "You learn to control physical reactions... tension in muscles, breathing... even heart rate. You learn to hide, to pretend. They cannot really control your mind. They can suggest, persuade. If you learn to feel the manipulations, you can notice and ignore... pretend to believe. We all do this, human and morph. We all learn to pretend. Do you understand?"
I gripped him tighter, noticing only then that I held his soaked shirt in my hands, as if he was my personal life vest. I nodded without loosening my hold on him, fighting to make sense of his words as I sucked in breaths.
"Yeah. Okay."
"I will help you with this."
"Thanks. Yeah... thanks. That would be good."
For a moment we only looked at each other.
Then he averted his gaze. I watched in bewilderment as that blank look crept back around his features, even his hands... leaving me alone, despite the pressure of his fingers.
“Nihkil,” I said. “What did all of that mean before? All of that ‘choosing you’ business? The thing with you being connected to my will? Is that some kind of––”
He waved a hand at the sensor.
The fountain ceased at once.
I looked around, watching as excess water sloughed off the walls. Nihkil removed his hand from where he'd held my arm. He didn’t let go of me in general, though, or push me away. His voice through the translator grew polite, careful.
"No,” he said. “I do not think we should. It is premature."
"What is?" I said. “What is premature?”
"Discussing this."
"Discussing what?”
“What you asked.”
I stared at him, but his expression didn't change. He didn't react to my stare at all, not even with a shrug.
"I am sorry," he said, after a too-long pause. “I know this is not the answer you wanted.”
I frowned. “So... what, then? Can you tell me anything? Will they keep cutting on me, or just lock me up in here with you?”
An uncomfortable look skated across Nihkil's eyes. They looked light brown now, I noticed, almost amber in color.
"They housed us together," he said after another too-long pause. "They obviously mean to honor some portion of my claim." His skin darkened, noticeable even in the dim light. "I am sorry for what they did... truly. I should have anticipated that they would want to experiment on you, take samples. They likely knew I would forbid access once I had time to register legal ownership." Looking at my face, he hesitated, seeming to misunderstand my reaction. “...It will do them no good," he said. "You are human, just like the humans here. The genetic variation is negligible. I was able to ascertain that much in my initial survey of your world."
My headache resurfaced.
Instead of trying to make sense of his words, I found myself staring around us again, trying to find things I could wrap my head around.
“So this is the bathroom," I muttered. "But that other room... I didn't see a door. Are we in a prison? A cell?” When he made a whistle-type sound, I said, “Is that a yes?"
"Yes."
“I have questions, Nik,” I said. “A lot of them. I know you don’t want to talk about the lock thing, but can you answer some, at least?”
He looked at me, his gold-colored eyes narrow. “Ask. I will answer... or not.”
Nodding, I bit back some frustration, combing wet hair back from my face. “Okay. Well, can you tell me what you are? What are you, Nik?”
I watched him think for a few beats. Finally, he took my hand. He did it so quickly it startled me, but I didn't jerk away. I just sat there, instead, watching as he laid my fingers over that spot in the middle of his chest.
"Give me permission," he said. "Let me open it... I will show you."
"Show me?" I said, frowning. "Show me what, Nik?"
After a few seconds’ pause, he released my fingers, sighing a bit.
"They were not wrong," he said, as if continuing a conversation he hadn't bothered to clue me into. "They no longer control the shift. This bothers them.” Pausing, he gave me a more intent look. “You really cannot do this? Unlock me?"
I felt my brows scrunch together in puzzlement. “No.”
Nodding, he just sat there, his expression impossible to read. Watching him stare sightlessly at the curved, wet walls, I tried to sort through his words, couldn't.
"Why?" I said finally. "Why does it bother them?"
He gave me another of those shrugs. "I am good at my work," he said. "They have been pleased with me up until now. I am reasonably compliant. I have done many jobs for them, and it takes a long time to train a morph. They see you as having deprived them of an operative."
My frown deepened.
When he continued to stare blankly at the wall, I sighed, leaning deeper into his chest, suddenly aware that I essentially lay in his lap. The realization didn’t bother me enough to make me want to move, though.
“I will need to relearn now,” he said, apropos of nothing.
“Relearn?” I looked up at him. “Relearn what?”
“I have a new lock-holder,” he said. “It will change things for me.”
I continued to watch his face, wary. “Change what?”
“I do not know,” he said. His voice remained unchanged, almost disinterested-sounding. “It is different each time. It could be food, what I eat. It could be personality. It could be many things. But there will be some change. Some re-patterning, as I adjust to having a new person holding my lock. Do you understand?”
Again, I just blinked at him. Then I looked down at his arm where it slung casually around me, holding me against him. He’d gone back to lightly stroking my arm.
"No,” I said finally. "I don't understand. Not even a little, Nik."
He nodded to my words, his face lacking expression. Still, I couldn’t deny the subtler thread of familiarity I felt there. Beyond the handful of hours I'd known him, I was starting to feel like I did know him, although I couldn’t have described what I meant by that exactly, especially since it made absolutely no sense.
When the silence stretched, and I couldn’t pull any of that apart, either, I sighed.
"So, can we try again?" I said. "Explain this to me. What is a lock, Nihkil? What does it do to you, exactly?"
His eyes grew puzzled. He glanced down at his own chest, then up at me.
"You really cannot?" he said. "You cannot unlock me?"
I threw up my hands. "Nik, I don't even know what that means. Let's start simple, okay? What is a lock? Start there."
"I thought it would be easier if you saw," he said, shrugging. At my lip-biting frown, he touched my arm again with his fingers. It felt almost like an apology. "Morph are shifters, changlings. We change. Humans put us on first contact, because we can change enough to hide, disap
pear if we need to. We can also fight. We can be whatever they need us to be."
"Yeah,” I muttered, thinking. A few seconds later, I looked up. "So what does that mean, exactly? Just how much can you change?” At his blank look, I motioned towards his face. “I’ve seen the eye-color thing... and that thing you do with your hair. Is there more to it?”
“Yes.” He frowned, touching his own hair. “I suppose there is... more to it.”
“Can you make yourself look like the people on whatever world they send you to?"
He nodded, his eyes relaxing. "Yes. People. Animals, too."
My eyebrows went up. "You can change into an animal?"
"Yes."
I smiled. "So you could be a bug?"
"A very large one, yes," he replied seriously, leaning his now light-blond head against the wall. "There are limits to the relative size we can take on... especially in terms of smaller creatures. The density becomes a problem. Very talented morph could perhaps make themselves this size, but likely not smaller...”
Nihkil held up his hands, approximating the size of a large house cat, or a small dog. I raised my eyebrows, but he continued to speak.
“...It is said that we can become any carbon-based life form, and this is essentially true, but some of these forms are far easier for us to take than others. Your example of an insect would be difficult for me... for many morph. Warm blood... this is easier. Larger organs. Bones. We have to practice at first, to attain a form. It is difficult until we feel how that organism works. There are forms some of us never successfully attain. Some of us have gifts for particular forms.”
He leaned his head back again, relaxing as he stroked my arm.
“We all have a base form,” he said next. “This is usually mammal, or mammal-like. Whatever our base form, it is easier for us to morph to that which is closer to that form in composition. To go significantly larger or smaller, or significantly different in shape or metabolism, requires much more energy... and focus."
"A base form?" I said.
"Yes. This is set upon birth... or shortly after."
I frowned a little deeper. "You mean this base form, it's different for different...” I hesitated. “...People? Like you? Morphs, whatever."
He nodded, as if relieved that I understood. "Yes," he said. "Mine is human," he added. “...I was raised in captivity. My mother was locked when I was born, so I even came out human. This is unusual... I am told."
"Captivity." I copied his posture unconsciously, resting my arm on a propped knee. "You mean you're like... a pet?"
An irritated look flashed across his face, briefly changing everything I could see behind his eyes. The look was there and gone, as if he'd wiped it off with one of those white-board erasers I remembered from school.
When he didn’t speak, I cleared my throat, trying again.
"So explain about the lock thing," I said, my voice more subdued. Waiting for him to speak, I hazarded a guess. “...Does it keep you in the form you're in currently? Like, you're locked now, so you stay human until someone unlocks it?"
Again, he looked relieved. "Yes. Exactly that."
"And you don't control the lock?"
"Not entirely,” he said, glancing at me. "We share control."
“You and me?”
“Yes.”
I fought with that for a minute, feeling like I should ask more about it, but without knowing what to ask precisely. "Who controlled it before?” I said finally. “Ledi?”
Nihkil shook his head. "No. My lock was held by my owner. My owner is Yaffa.” He said the word as if it tasted bad in his mouth. "I am his pet," he added, somewhat more bitterly.
I felt another twinge, and considered apologizing for my choice of words.
Seeing his face, I thought better of it.
“How do I open your lock, Nik?” I said instead. “Can you teach me?"
He looked up.
I couldn't help staring at the violet color now shining from his irises. I saw something else glance across his expression. Not quite relief that time, but... something. Whatever it was had an emotional kick that surprised me.
It hit me a second later that it felt almost like desire.
As in maybe even something sexual.
I found myself staring up at him, startled by the realization, even as that expression in his eyes deepened, growing more obvious as he looked down at me. The difference made my cheeks warm, but I didn’t let my gaze waver.
“You want me to learn, right?” I said, more gently. “How to open the lock?”
"Yes," he said at once. “Very much. I want this very much, Dakota...” His eyes gradually lost their charge, turning brown as I watched, until they were nearly the same color as mine. "But Yaffa will not like it,” he added. “I will have to try and teach you how to communicate with me, first. He might try to find some legal way to prevent us, otherwise.”
At what must have been a puzzled look form me, he waved off my expression.
“We will be cautious,” he assured me. “Yaffa feels cheated right now, and angry. They think I chose this. They think I talked you into this somehow... that it is a trick. They will likely try to force me to give you up as a lock mate."
“How would they do that?” I said warily. “Force you?”
“They will beat me,” he said, indifferent. “Likely withhold food. Attempt to deprive me of sleep. They will probably separate us... call them interrogations for the safety of the republic, or something to that effect. I will do what I can to prevent this.”
I felt my fingers tighten on his arm where he held me against him. He must have felt it, because he looked down. After he spent a few minutes studying my expression, I saw his lips curl into a vague puzzlement.
"It is not your fault,” he assured me.
“They’re going to starve you?” I said. “Beat you?”
Again, he seemed to miss the point of my words.
“Do not worry. It will not work,” he said, shrugging. “They employ morph, but they do not understand us. These things do not always happen the way they think." Shrugging again, he met my gaze. “There is human law. Then there is morph law. They are not the same.”
Forcing out an exhale, I combed my fingers through my wet, tangled hair, shaking my head to clear it.
"Okay,” I said. “So how do we get out of here, Nihkil? Can we do that, you and me, if I manage to open your lock? Can you help me get back home?"
"We will find a way.” He glanced down at my face, startling me by caressing the hair off one cheek with a careful hand. “...You should teach me, too. About your world," he added, as if preempting a question he saw on my face. "I will need to know more, before we go back. A lot more. It is one thing to scout. Another to live in a foreign place, with different rules. Especially if it is unsafe for me to unlock where it might be seen."
I gave him a faintly amused look. Puzzlement curled my lips. "You want to go with me? Back to Earth? Why?"
At that, he looked openly surprised.
There was another awkward silence.
Finally, I broke it, exhaling in a kind of frustrated defeat. “Okay, so what about me?” I said. “Are they going to beat on me, too?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Human law,” he said simply. “I own you. They own me, but I still have rights over you. I can prevent it. They cannot touch you.” He gave me a promise with his eyes. “They will not break this law. They will try to take you from me legally, first.”
I frowned, thinking about his words.
“What about the doctors?” I pressed. “Those creepy guys in the blue smocks?”
His eyes hardened more. He made a different sound. "No."
“And I don’t need to worry about you, right? I’m safe here with you?”
Nihkil glanced down at me again, his eyes showing a faint surprise. Plastered to his skull, his now-black hair contrasted the color of
his skin even more, making the bruises stand out further against his white complexion.
For a long moment, he just looked at me.
Then he averted his eyes, which had shifted back to a light blue color. I watched him sit up, forcing me to do the same. Seconds later, he’d reached behind his neck and was fumbling with something that hung there.
Removing a necklace I hadn’t noticed until then, he showed it to me, along with the small, dark-gold stone that hung on its pendant. Taking my hand and tilting it up, he coiled the metallic cord and pendant carefully into my palm. The cord itself shone strangely bright in the dim room, a smooth, metallic-looking vine that felt cold on my skin.
“What is this?” I said, puzzled.
“Morph law,” he said simply.
“Meaning what?” I said, looking up at him.
He shrugged, but I caught a kind of tension in his face, what might have been caution, or perhaps even nerves. “Meaning,” he said after a pause. “...To the humans, I own you. To the humans, they own me.” He shrugged again, but his eyes never left mine. “To the morph, it is different,” he added simply. “To the morph, you own me. This is not a legal thing... but it is more true for that, not less, Dakota.”
I swallowed, unsure what to say to that.
Looking between his eyes, I studied the serious expression there, without really understanding it. Despite what he’d said, I didn’t see any resentment in his face, or hear it in his words, like when he spoke about Yaffa owning him earlier. If anything, I saw gratitude shimmering in the background... perhaps more than gratitude. That desire edged into his expression again, too, and even around how he held his body.
I felt some part of me responding to it, in spite of myself. I shifted my seat on the wet tile, wincing a little at my own reaction.
“What does that actually mean, Nik?” I said finally, my voice careful.
Nihkil closed my fingers around the cord, his movements dexterous, strangely gentle.
