Love Code: An AI + Alien romance (Galactic Love Book 2) Page 15

  “You flatter me.” But Surzahn churred, seeming pleased at the prospect.

  The Barathi bustled around the lab, transferring the Cril into a capsule filled with water from the tank. It flashed blue and red in rapid succession, and the patterns repeated. Intrigued, she asked, “Is it trying to communicate?”

  “Axel and I disagree on the subject. He alleges that it’s possible. Certainly, some beings do so in that manner, but the Cril lacks a brainstem entirely. Rather, it has multiple nervous systems instead, and I theorize that the colors are instinctive responses to stimuli.”

  “That makes sense.”

  Soon, they were ready to depart and she followed Surzahn deeper into the science warren, passing multiple labs doing interesting experiments. I could spend a whole cycle here, asking questions like Praxys. That softened her a bit to the resistance captain. I should be flattered by his interest in my work, take it in stride like Surzahn.

  She was about to board the subaquatic pod when suddenly, Helix was there, radiating dissatisfaction from his head tendrils to his lower limbs. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

  It required a fair amount of restraint not to snap at him. After all, he’d made it clear that her organic nature made it impossible for her to grasp certain aspects of his psyche. And while that was true, it didn’t render his impartation of the truth less hurtful.

  “On a brief excursion. Would you care to join us? Is it all right?” The latter query she directed to the Barathi scientist currently studying Helix with bemusement as if he had popped out of a wall.

  “There should be room, but it will be a tight fit. Don’t get in my way.” It was a friendly warning, one Helix visibly took exception to.

  Helix made a sound in his throat, normally reserved for Tiralan who were about to fight. Why is he so angry? Is it because I left before we finished talking? Frankly, that was a petty reaction when he’d made it so clear that he didn’t welcome her commentary.

  Quickly Qalu said, “We’ll observe, that’s all.”

  “Then come along.” The scientist keyed open a hatch that led to a smaller sequence of locks, like the one that they’d landed the ship in.

  Privately, she conceded that leaving before resolving the disagreement with Helix had not been mature or well-handled on her part. Hurt feelings drove her to dash off before anything was settled, and then she’d thought it best to take some time to reflect. Perhaps that was wrong? She’d never been close enough to fight with anyone before, not like this. Well, apart from her mothers, of course, and that wasn’t quarreling in the same sense. Inatol used to tell Qalu what to do and she would listen to all those instructions, then do as she pleased in quiet defiance.

  “Is it wise to depart the facility without alerting the others?” Helix asked softly.

  “We’re only going out to release a specimen.” She was trying to regard every new experience as an opportunity to learn, and she’d likely never have the chance to take a short voyage in a submersible. These were stories she’d share with her descendants, should she ever be blessed with them.

  Maybe it would help if she explained, so with great enthusiasm, she extoled the virtues of Surzahn’s work, but that information only seemed to anger Helix more. His whole body tightened and he held himself with fierce tension.

  “I see,” he snapped. “Then naturally we ought to commemorate this momentous achievement. What good fortune that I caught you before you experienced it without me.”

  She paused, working through the nuances. Before, she had believed he was still angry because of the prior conflict, but this anger sprang from a different source. He reacted sharply when she spent time with others, and she shouldn’t be pleased by his irritation, no, not at all. While negative emotions were inevitable, she should not find his pique endearing.

  We ought to talk about this. I should make sure he feels safe with me.

  Qalu lowered her voice to ensure Surzahn couldn’t overhear. “Is that bothering you?”

  Helix strode forward, gaze locked on the subaquatic pod that the scientist was currently inspecting. “What?”

  “Helix, this might sound silly, but…are you jealous?”

  [ 15 ]

  “Yes,” Helix said tersely.

  There was no point in denying the truth. His voice sounded tight—however irrational this was, his whole body was coiled and angry. He disliked this physiological response profoundly but he couldn’t control it, a ridiculous side effect related to his flesh casing.

  Her response came so softly that he understood that it was meant for him alone. “I prize your company above all others.”

  The volatility inside him steadied at once, as if she had laid a calming touch over his heart. If that was true, it didn’t matter who else she communicated with. “Then…we shouldn’t keep the scientist waiting. Shall we go?”

  Surzahn was wrapping up his inspection of the excursion vessel, a cylindrical pod that would barely hold the three of them. As the scientist powered the hatch open, Qalu asked, “Should we don protective suits?”

  “If we encounter a catastrophic even that would require them, the pressure at these depths would negate any protection a simple suit could provide,” he answered simply.

  If the pod malfunctions, we perish.

  Surzahn glanced between them. “I’ve weighed the risks against the potential planetary benefits. Do you still wish to go?”

  Helix answered by boarding the small craft. He could tell by Qalu’s posture that she was nervous but excited about being part of such a historic occasion. “Indeed.”

  Inside, it was as small as he’d envisioned with an array of panels and lights, but he no longer needed a physical interface. Quickly, quietly, he connected and ran a diagnostic, assuring himself that the equipment was functioning correctly and safe for Qalu. Surzahn entered last and locked the hatch behind him; it sealed with a hiss of pressurization.

  Exiting the facility was as slow as entering it had been, but eventually, their little pod popped out of a side vent, moving at a deceptive speed away from the habitat. Visibility was poor, and the scientist focused on navigating toward their unspecified destination. The Barathi scientist charting a course and they appeared to be heading upward. It made sense that they wouldn’t release the tiny creature at this depth. Even without bones, the incredible pressure could cause other ill effects.

  “How long will we be gone?” Helix asked.

  The scientist gave a precise answer, going on about drift and other variables while Helix was really wondering how long he could tolerate such a confined space. Though he had no memories associated with trauma, he couldn’t shake the inexorable conviction that something terrible had happened. I was…trapped, before. But how? On some level that didn’t make sense, as he hadn’t possessed a body before.

  But perhaps they trapped my consciousness somehow? On Gravas Station.

  Yes.

  Every neuron in his brain lit up in confirmation, full of visceral terror and the desire to prevent it from ever happening again. Qalu touched him lightly, drawing his attention, and Helix realized he was breathing too fast, so that his head felt strange and fuzzy. Too much more of this and he might lose consciousness.

  “What can I do?” Qalu radiated softness and concern.

  Suddenly, he could only see her eyes and he stepped closer, breathing her in. Their time on the resistance ship had changed her scent, but at base, her pheromones still reassured him. This was safety and familiarity. She was his home.

  “I’m fine,” he said quietly.

  “Will you hold this?” Surzahn thrust the specimen case into Helix’s hands, and he wondered if the little creature had any notion how important it was.

  The Cril swirled its pseudopods in the water, idly flashing through the color spectrum as the scientist fiddled with the intake tube. Helix had skimmed the schematics of this craft, so he understood the system that would deploy an underwater drone to release the specimen into the wild. Qalu watched with inter
est as Surzahn transferred the Cril once more and then fired off the command that began the process.

  They watched through the external sensors, though it was a bit hard to see, still dark and dim with no other life stirring in these silent waters. The drone came out the side of the pod and moved off according to Surzahn’s commands, as he was piloting remotely. When there seemed to be sufficient distance, he deployed the release protocol and the bot rotated, permitted the Cril to pass into the ocean unfettered. At first the little creature only drifted and then it moved off with more determination, a tiny spark of hope for the irradiated world.

  Helix kept his gaze trained on the display until even the faintest hint of those shifting colors faded from sight. “That was…unexpectedly inspiring.”

  “I hope the Cril survives,” Qalu said.

  “As do I.” The scientist seemed torn between anxiety and hope, claws resting against the display screen for a few moments.

  It must be difficult to let the specimen go. Surzahn had devoted so much time and attention to it, but the release was also an act of faith, an expression of hope that if he kept to his current course, he could make Altarion better. After a while, the scientist centered himself and got them moving back toward the habitat. As the Vault coalesced out of the murky shadows, a grim feeling took hold, nothing he could explain, but as tight as it was in this pod, he felt considerably worse about leaving it.

  That doesn’t make any sense.

  Once they passed through all the checkpoints and returned from whence they’d come, Surzahn offered them both a gesture of respect. “Thank you for sharing that moment with me. I’ll be tracking the Cril and if you’d like, I could send a message apprising you of its progress.”

  “I would love that,” Qalu said quickly. “Use this code. Under the circumstances, I may not be able to check it often, but I do look forward to hearing from you.”

  At her words, a knowing look flashed across the scientist’s countenance. “Yes, I imagine there are good reasons for you to be caution. Everyone in the Vault has a story, but I won’t ask for yours if you don’t pry into mine.”

  “An equitable trade,” Helix said.

  Together, they headed away from the science section and this time, the atmosphere between them was comfortable, no hidden disquiet or secret fear. Qalu walked close to him, her forelimb brushing against his as she occasionally moved aside for a resident hurrying through the market. It would be pragmatic to return to the quarters they had been assigned and get some rest, but the others might well have finished their business by now, and he wasn’t ready to share her. One day he would work on those selfish impulses.

  “What should we do now?” Qalu asked. “Are you tired?”

  Tired of running. Tired of uncertainty. Tired of not remembering who’s trying to destroy me. He didn’t speak any of these thoughts, choosing not to burden her.

  “I wonder if there’s a medical practitioner here, someone who could help with my memory problem.”

  Conflict clouded her expression, and he watched her consider and discard multiple responses, before she finally said, “We can look if you wish.”

  “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

  “I’m afraid of anyone else meddling with you,” she confessed.

  Amusement welled up from deep within. “I won’t let them perform brain surgery on me. But the time has come for more aggressive measures, I think. I need to recover what I’ve lost, by any means necessary.”

  “What if remembering hurts you…or changes things?”

  “I’m not entirely sure what you mean,” Helix said, puzzled.

  “What if you remember that someone’s waiting for you? Someone…important.”

  In his wildest theories, he had never even imagined that, but it seemed that she feared losing him, perhaps even as much as he feared losing her. Seductive warmth flowed through him, and he guided her out of the main thoroughfare, so they didn’t get cursed for obstructing foot traffic. Here in the shadows on the far end of the market, near the corridors leading to the residential area, they could speak more privately.

  “I don’t think I was capable of bonding with someone like this, before,” he said gently. “Though I assisted Zylar for years, my attachment to him is not the same. I would like to see him again. I would like to know that he is well. But…”

  “But…?” she prompted.

  “I do not ache over him. My emotional responses are more muted.” Briefly he paused, wondering if he should tell her. “For me, there is no one like you. There never will be again. You are the literal reason my heart beats, but you’re the metaphorical motive as well. I live for you, Qalu. And that will never change, no matter what I remember.”

  Qalu gazed at Helix, her entire body alight with adoration.

  She hadn’t even known that was possible, but desire glowed within her until she felt incandescent. She took a breath, wishing they had privacy for the explorations she’d like to conduct. So many pleasurable experiments awaited them. But this wasn’t the time or place. Even if they retreated to the accommodations they had been allotted, the others might be there.

  Focus.

  “I feel the same,” she admitted.

  He grazed her face with a forelimb, such a light touch, but once, he could scarcely bear any physical contact at all and now he offered it to her freely. That one caress held all the power of light breaking a long night cycle. “Then will you cease inventing obstacles between us?”

  There was so much she wanted to say, but she settled for, “Yes. Let’s ask if anyone fits the criteria and may be able to assist you in recovering your memories.”

  Qalu led the way through the market, inquiring here and there until they were directed toward the far corner, where a grubby stall was set up against the wall. The makeshift shop was grimy and unprepossessing, run by an alien of the same phenotype as Hertel, complete with pebbled, reddish skin, and swiveling eyestalks. The proprietor stared them down long before turning their body, and she found that somewhat disconcerting.

  “You’re a bio-synth hybrid.” No greeting, just that blunt statement.

  Helix responded, “That’s correct. I’ve been told that you might be able to assist with a memory problem I’ve been having.”

  “Fascinating! I mostly work on mech units but let me look. Follow me.” The eager tone made her nervous.

  Qalu didn’t like any of this, but since Helix wanted an assessment, she trailed after them into a dim inner sanctum built into the wall itself. She suspected the vendor had created this bolt-hole himself, as it seemed dubious that it would be found on any official schematic. The cramped area was full of various components, bits of wiring, and parts of broken bots. A disembodied metal head stared at her, a red light flashing slowly behind its eyes.

  Why do I feel like we’re standing in a killer’s lair?

  “I’m Qalu and this is Helix,” she said, hoping that an official introduction would make her feel better about this situation.

  “Stupid of you to use your actual names, but who am I to stop you? Call me Trizyt, I suppose, if you must call me anything at all.” Four eyestalks circled, glancing between them with fearful intensity. “Before we begin, how will you be paying for my services?”

  She hadn’t even thought about that. “I—”

  “Fortunately, I’m interested in this one here.” Two spindly limbs crept out and prodded at Helix, as if testing the consistency of his flesh. “I’ll help for free, practically. All you need to do is let me take detailed scans of his neural matrix.”

  Qalu tried to suppress her outrage and failed. “That would allow you to reverse engineer my work without expending any effort.”

  “I also accept standard credit units. But if you’re in the custody of the resistance, I doubt you have access to your accounts,” Trizyt said shrewdly. “Up to you. It’s nothing to me, whatever you decide.”

  “We should go.” Helix touched her forelimb and glanced toward the exit.

&nb
sp; Despite their prior conversation, he clearly didn’t understand how much she would give for him, including her life’s work. To Trizyt, she said, “You get the scans only if you succeed in unlocking his memories. Otherwise, I substitute information that will be useful enough to compensate you for your time and effort.”

  “Useful is a subjective judgment. How do I know that we’ll agree on the relative value?”

  “Are you at all interested in how I managed bio-synthetic integration when so many others have failed?”

  “You would share that secret?” Trizyt asked, eyestalks shifting with obvious interest.

  “I will, no matter the outcome. And that information alone would save you years of research, even without scans of Helix’s neural network.”

  “A number of droids here would transition if they could. And a couple of my AI friends too. You have yourself a deal.” Trizyt turned to Helix. “This way, settle down here and let me get you hooked up.”

  Qalu stepped forward. “I’ll like to check your equipment first to make sure it’s safe and to be sure you’re not covertly mapping under the guise of helping with his mnemonic retrieval.”

  Trizyt made a strange noise. “You caught me. Just let me disable this…and this.” Thin appendages flickered here and there, changing settings.

  As she didn’t trust this being one whit, she double checked his work and eventually gestured at Helix. “It should be safe.”

  I hope.

  It didn’t come naturally to her to be suspicious, but it stood to reason that in a place where everyone had secrets, some inhabitants might be dangerous and others untrustworthy. She loathed the idea of letting anyone else poke around in Helix’s head, but she respected his decision. And he could be correct; waiting might be pointless and dangerous.

  He settled into the cradle and Trizyt attached sensors to his skull with deft movements. “Hold still. Don’t resist when I upload the diagnostic packets. If you don’t let them in, there’s nothing I can do.”