Chapter Three
Vel'aan
The human—Alex—moves through the water with more confidence than I expected. Not graceful, certainly not efficient, but there's a determination in his movements that suggests he'd follow me into the deep trenches if I asked.
I shouldn't have brought him here. This is my sanctuary, my place of solitude where no one has followed me in ten years. But he looked at me on that platform with such certainty, such directness, and said he trusted me, and my resolve crumbled like sand.
Now he's here, in my water, wearing almost nothing, and I don't know what to do with any of it.
I dive down to check the zhik'ra beneath us, letting the familiar motion calm my racing heart. When I surface, Alex is right there, treading water, waiting.
"This is incredible," he says, pushing wet hair from his eyes. The water makes his skin glisten in a way that shouldn't be as fascinating as it is. "How deep does it go?"
"Approximately forty meters in this section," I manage, trying to sound professional. Agricultural. Detached. "The zhik'ra forests extend for three kilometers."
"Show me your favorite spot."
The request is so simple, so direct. No Nereidan would ask such a personal question within minutes of meeting. But Alex looks at me expectantly, and I find myself nodding.
"This way. Can you swim distance?"
"I'll manage."
I lead him toward the older growth, swimming slowly so he can keep pace. These are my meditation spaces, where I go when the memories become too heavy. No one else tends this section—it's not profitable enough for the effort required—but I maintain it anyway.
I dive briefly to examine a cluster of juvenile fish, then surface near Alex. He's watching the spot where I disappeared, and when I emerge, he smiles.
"Purple fish," he says. "Saw them when I went under for a second. They're beautiful."
"They feed on microorganisms that grow on the zhik'ra." I'm treading water beside him, careful to maintain distance. "The ecosystem is quite complex."
"You love it here." Not a question.
"It's peaceful."
"That's not what I mean." He moves closer, and I have to concentrate on keeping my bioluminescence controlled. "This place matters to you."
How does he see that? We've known each other for less than an hour, and he reads me like we've shared years.
"I've tended this section for a decade," I say carefully.
"Since you saved me."
The words hang between us. I want to correct him, to explain it was an accident, that I didn't save him so much as fail to kill him, but his expression stops me. There's no doubt there, no uncertainty.
"Why did you approach me?" I ask, needing to change the subject. "On the platform, I mean."
Alex laughs—a short, sharp sound. "Because I knew someone was listening. The Council was being too careful with their words. Someone was there."
"How could you know that?"
"I didn't know. I hoped." He's treading water facing me now, those intense eyes focused completely on my face. "Ten years of hoping, and then you showed up looking guilty and beautiful, and I knew."
Beautiful? The word short-circuits something in my brain. No one has called me beautiful. Efficient, yes. Competent, certainly. But beautiful?
"You don't know me," I manage.
"I know you stayed with me for three days when you didn't understand what was happening. I know you played music to try to comfort me. I know you sang to me." His voice is so certain, so warm. "That's enough to start with."
My skin flares with uncontrolled bioluminescence. I dive under to hide it, swimming down to the deeper zhik'ra, letting the cool water at depth calm my skin. When I surface farther away, Alex has followed, though he's breathing harder from the effort.
"There's a resting platform near here," I say, noting his fatigue. "Old harvest equipment. You could stand."
"Thank god," he gasps, following me to a submerged platform about chest-deep for him. He stands, catching his breath, while I continue treading water nearby.
"Better?"
"Much." He's still breathing hard, but smiling. "I'm not exactly an Olympic swimmer."
I don't know what Olympic means, but I understand he's not a strong swimmer. "We should go back."
"No." The word comes out sharp, immediate. "Please. I just need a minute."
We stay there, him standing on the platform, me swimming lazy circles nearby. The silence should be awkward, but somehow it's not.
"You really thought you hurt me," he says suddenly. "All these years."
I stop swimming, treading water to face him. "You were in distress. Severe distress."
"I was detoxing. Getting the drugs out of my system." He runs a hand through his wet hair, a gesture that seems to indicate frustration. "But you didn't know that. You just saw a kid in pain."
"Yes."
"And you stayed with me anyway."
"Of course."
He looks at me with an expression I can't interpret. "Of course. Like it was obvious. Like anyone would have done the same."
"Anyone would have—"
"No," he interrupts. "They wouldn't have. You could have just... left me in containment and ignored me. But you didn't. You stayed. You tried to help."
I don't know how to respond to that. It hadn't occurred to me to abandon him, even when I didn't understand what was happening.
"I don't understand you," I say finally. "Your directness. The way you look at me. Nothing about you makes sense."
"What doesn't make sense?"
"You should be angry. Or frightened. Or at minimum, confused. Instead you're..." I gesture helplessly at him.
"Grateful? Attracted to you? Glad to be here?" He grins. "Yeah, I can see how that might be confusing."
"Attracted?" The word comes out as almost a squeak, and my bioluminescence flares again, gold spiraling across my chest before I can control it.
"Vel'aan." His voice is patient, amused even. "I've thought about you for ten years. The alien who kept me safe. And now you're here, and you're gorgeous and kind and so obviously good, and you're surprised I'm attracted to you?"
"I'm a zhik'ra farmer," I say weakly.
"And?"
"I'm not... I haven't... I don't know how to do this."
"Do what?"
"Whatever this is." I gesture between us, sending droplets flying.
Alex is quiet for a moment, studying me. Then: "How about we start with you showing me more of the forest? No pressure, no expectations. Just... show me what you love about this place."
The offer is so simple, so free of demands, that I find myself relaxing slightly. This I can do.
"The deeper sections have bioluminescent variants," I hear myself saying. "They're quite beautiful at depth, though you wouldn't be able to see them properly."
"Show me what I can see."
So I do. I dive down and bring up samples—different types of zhik'ra, the creatures that live among them, shells from the bottom. Each time I surface, Alex examines what I've brought with genuine interest, asking questions that show he's actually listening.
"How do you harvest it?" he asks, running his hand along a mature stalk I've brought up.
"Carefully. If you damage the holdfast, the entire plant dies. But if you cut correctly, it regrows stronger."
"That's fascinating. So it's almost symbiotic? You need it, but cutting it correctly helps it grow?"
"Yes, exactly." I'm surprised he understands so quickly. "The harvest stimulates new growth patterns."
We float there, him standing on the submerged platform while I tread water, explaining more than anyone has ever wanted to know about zhik'ra cultivation.
It's easier than addressing the other thing—the way he looks at me, the way my skin responds to his presence, the word "attracted" still echoing in my mind.
A shadow passes overhead. Storm clouds, gathering fast. The weather changes quickly here, one of the challenges of coastal cultivation.
"Storm coming," I observe, watching the darkening sky.
"Bad?"
"Could be. These coastal storms can be severe."
"Should we go?"
I should say yes. Should escort him back to the platform, return him to safety, never see him again. It would be simpler, better for my equilibrium.
Instead: "There's a shelter. For severe weather. We could wait it out."
Alex's smile is brilliant, relieved. "Yeah? That would be good. I'm not ready to leave yet."
Not ready to leave. He wants to stay. With me.
"It's small," I warn. "Designed for one farmer. It will be... close."
"I don't mind close," he says, and something in his tone makes my skin flare again.
I dive down to activate the shelter release, using the moment underwater to try to calm my bioluminescence. The emergency shelter is meant for solitary waiting, not... whatever this is.
The structure rises from the sea floor, breaking the surface just as the first drops of rain begin to fall. I help Alex climb onto the platform—his hand is warm in mine for just a moment—and key in the descent sequence.
"We're going under?" he asks, but there's no fear in his voice, just curiosity.
"It's safer below during storms. The structure can withstand the pressure changes."
The shelter descends, water rising up the transparent walls until we're fully submerged.
The interior is basic—emergency supplies, a single resting platform, communication equipment that hasn't been updated in years.
Through the transparent walls, we can see the zhik'ra forest beginning to sway as the storm builds above.
Alex stands in the center, turning slowly, taking it all in. "This is incredible. We're underwater but dry. I can see everything."
His minimal clothing clings to his skin. Water droplets trace paths down his chest, and I have to look away before my bioluminescence betrays me again. The space is so small that we're only an arm's length apart no matter where we stand.
"How long do storms usually last?" he asks.
"Several hours, typically. Sometimes longer."
He smiles, and there's something in that expression that makes my heart race. "Good. That gives us time to actually talk. Without me drowning."
I sink onto the resting platform, suddenly very aware that we're trapped here together. "I don't know how to talk to you."
"Sure you do. You're doing it right now."
"That's not what I mean." I pull my legs up, wrapping my arms around them, trying to make myself smaller in the limited space. "You're so direct. You say things that no Nereidan would ever say. You look at me like..." I trail off.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm worth looking at."
Alex sits on the platform too, careful to leave space between us, though in here that's still quite close. "Vel'aan, you saved my life. Even if you don't see it that way, that's what happened. You're absolutely worth looking at."
"I was just trying to keep you stable—"
"Exactly. You tried. You cared enough to try." He leans back against the shelter wall, and I try not to notice the way his body stretches. "Tell me about the zhik'ra. Why did you start farming?"
I consider how to explain. "It seemed... safer. No assessments. No possibility of making mistakes that could hurt someone. Just plants."
"But you love it," he says. "I can see it when you talk about them. This isn't just hiding. You actually care about the forests."
"They're predictable," I say. "They grow or they don't. They thrive or they need adjustment. There's no... confusion."
"Like there is with people?"
"Like there is with you," I correct, then immediately regret being so direct.
But Alex just smiles. "I confuse you?"
"Everything about you confuses me."
"Good," he says. "That means you're thinking about me."
My bioluminescence flares before I can stop it, gold racing up my arms. Alex watches, fascinated.
"Does it always do that?" he asks. "The glowing?"
"It's involuntary," I explain, embarrassed. "Emotional or physical responses trigger bioluminescent reactions."
"So when you glow gold like that...?"
I look away. "I should check the storm progress."
"Vel'aan."
"It's complex. Different patterns mean different things."
"And gold means?"
I stand, moving to the communication panel to check weather data I don't actually need. "The storm will last approximately four hours."
"You're deflecting."
"Yes."
He laughs, and the sound fills the small space. "At least you're honest about it."
Outside, the storm is building in earnest. The zhik'ra forest bends and sways, and occasional debris floats past our transparent walls. But inside, we're safe, dry, and very much alone.
"Tell me about Earth," I say, desperate to change the subject from my revealing bioluminescence. "What is it like?"
"Complicated," Alex says. "Beautiful and terrible and messy. Nothing like here."
"How so?"
He settles back, getting comfortable, and starts talking. About cities and seasons, about technology that breaks and gets fixed, about billions of humans all living different lives. His voice is soothing, and I find myself relaxing as he talks, letting his words wash over me.
The storm rages above, but down here in our small shelter, I'm beginning to feel something I haven't felt in ten years.
Not quite peace. Not quite safety.
But maybe, possibly, the beginning of connection.