Chapter 24 #2
“Correct! We utilize an organic neurological communication similar to your theorized telekinesis. It’s a brain wave all tou’siil are born with, a signature completely unique to my species.
It works like the roots of a huge tree, connecting us all to a single center point.
The more distance from the planet and that center, the higher the strain on our hive.
That’s why only a few tou’siil emissaries are permitted to leave at any given time.
We crave knowledge, but seeking too much of it might destroy the very thing that allows us to retain that knowledge. ”
Celise had that doctor look again, absolutely dazzled by this new information. “Fascinating. Have you attempted to replicate that brain wave? The implications into modern communication could be—”
“Astronomical, yes! Sadly, we can measure it, but technology simply isn’t advanced enough to attempt what we’re able to biologically produce.” Nasra gestured around them. “Although none of us have tested nylarian technology. It’s wholly possible we might find the answer in this station!”
“Were they really that advanced?” Celise breathed.
Nasra bounced again, seemingly thrilled to have found a new scientific partner. “They set the standard for the rest of the galaxy. Their energy shields are in every space station, and Vaesa’s use of isolated biomes—”
Torian cleared her throat.
Both of them glanced at her. Nasra seemed curious, but Celise looked vaguely annoyed.
“What?” her sister demanded.
“You’re acting pretty excited for someone who wasn’t planning to stay,” Torian pointed out. “Or did you just change your mind?”
Celise sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Nasra. Will you permit me a different question?”
“I’d adore it,” Nasra said delightedly, and the sparkle returned to her eyes as she reestablished hive connection. “We’re ready. What would you like to know?”
“Has the hive done any research into the effects of artificially recycled air on human physiology?”
Nasra waited for a moment, listening to something none of them could hear.
Her answer was sheepish. “Ah, no. We’re aware that humanity has abysmal technology when it comes to off-planet habitation.
But recent visits have been focused on documenting humanity and its culture, rather than medical proceedings.
Currently, I’m the only tou’siil sanctioned in this solar system, and my focus was spent on human sociology and psychology. ”
Disappointment settled over Celise’s body like a weighted blanket. “I see.”
The sparkle died from Nasra’s eyes. She seemed to realize she’d just destroyed Celise’s sole hope.
Her words were firm. “I’ll help you research anything you like.
Everything I learn adds pages to the Book.
” She hesitated. “But if you’re looking for a cure for your breathing condition, Dutch will be your best resource.
His species was the first to make contact with humanity.
They’re the ones who terraformed Rhymarra so you’d have a spot to settle. ”
Wait.
“The nylarians terraformed Rhymarra?” Torian’s mind spun.
Celise stared, floundering for a response. Her cheeks colored. “We … ah, we were always told the Confederation of Spacefaring Species terraformed it—and limited us to one planet, just to ensure humans would always be fighting ourselves instead of them.”
It sounded so stupid when Celise said it aloud, facing a tou’siil, surrounded by draics. Torian was beginning to wonder exactly how skewed their information truly was in the colonies. Or on Rhymarra.
Nasra tensed, her gills fluttering, her eyes flat.
Torian hadn’t seen anything but cheerful enthusiasm from the tou’siil, but clearly, this was her limit.
“By the Book, no. That lie only began circulating by human leaders to keep their citizens from questioning why this solar system is so isolated.”
“Then why didn’t the nylarians terraform the other planets?” The gas giants couldn’t be tamed, of course, but there were still a couple terrestrial contenders. If they’d bothered to expand beyond Rhymarra, humanity might have evolved in a different way.
Torian and Celise might have been born planet-side.
Celise might never have been sick at all.
Nasra clearly didn’t need the hive to reference this history, because she continued matter-of-factly: “They tried! But none of the other planets were viable. They offered to map a wormhole to a nearby system and terraform another there, but humanity found out about Verdaan and insisted on their planet, instead.”
Irritation prickled Torian’s skin, too. “Why would we assume that was up for grabs?”
“Greed. Fear. Take your pick.” Nasra frowned. “Either way, it forced the nylarians to retreat to their homeworld and establish protections.”
That made Torian frown. “When we flew into the nebula, something caused interference on our navigation system. Maybe that’s what it was.”
“I don’t know if their protections are still in place. But it’s possible.”
Celise wasn’t ready for a topic change. “Is that behavior why humanity isn’t welcome in the CSS?”
Nasra glanced at her, frowning. “It was considered an act of aggression, which automatically bars access. The CSS deployed several draic starships to protect the nylarians. Rather than fight draic warships, humanity agreed to remain in this solar system, neutral. Some time later, the nylarians vanished.” Nasra tapped her chin, seemingly embarrassed about the next part: “There was a question about whether or not humanity attacked after all, but we found no signs of struggle, and humans by that point didn’t seem to know the nylarians existed anymore. ”
They were standing near enough to the draic festivities that they’d garnered some looks, but no one seemed willing to interrupt them. Zen was eating with a few of his crewmembers, and raised a hand in greeting when Torian caught his gaze—but Dutch was nowhere to be seen.
Celise pinched her brow. “What a wonderful history.”
Nasra giggled. “Sarcasm. If it makes you feel better, I love humanity. All that happened before any of us were alive; I think your species deserves another chance. The hive would be honored to help you research your condition, Celise.” She paused, abashed now, based on the way her tail curled slightly around her ankles.
“Unfortunately, that research would have to happen here—I can’t afford to leave Vaesa with all this.
” She gestured at the draics, at Torian.
Torian held her breath.
Celise glanced between them, then grudgingly said, “If there’s a chance we can cure Halyon’s disease without relocating people to Rhymarra, it would help more folks than my clinic ever could. But … I’d need reassurance that we’d actually make strides. Otherwise, it’ll all be a waste.”
Torian almost protested that it was either decades here, researching the disease, possibly finding a cure—or a few years on Colony 13, fixing minor wounds until Celise physically couldn’t anymore. But before she could point those alternatives out, a cheery voice interrupted.
“Oh, I’m positive we’ll make strides!” Dutch strolled out of one of the nearby apartments. He had a board of lumber in his hands, for some reason, and was clearly struggling with the weight. “Zen, puatic, do you mind?”
Across the party, Zen grumbled something and pushed to his feet, striding over. His wings billowed behind him, and a few of his crew leaned out of the way.
Dutch offered a bright grin. “Be a dear and hold this.”
Zen dutifully took the lumber. “Why?”
“Mostly to see those muscles,” Dutch purred, running his long fingers over Zen’s tensed arms. Zen’s scales tinged darker as he rolled his eyes, but Torian noticed he didn’t move away or set down the board.
Dutch, meanwhile, refocused on Celise. “I’m Sequelta vel Dutch-Ath, the last remaining nylarian. I’m sure Moss or Torian told you of me?”
“You were mentioned.” Celise assessed him, clearly hesitant. Torian could almost hear her inner monologue: He doesn’t look like an ancient alien genius.
Torian snorted, but kept quiet.
Dutch gestured grandly. “I do hope you’ll stay. I’m already retrofitting this townhouse into a proper clinic for you.” He spun back toward the townhouse. Torian peered past him, but the interior looked like—well, like the debris-filled hallways of Colony 4.
“He’s not very good at renovation,” Zen added gruffly. “But he is trying.”