It was a long trip back to Andor. The transport’s passenger compartment was crowded, and he wasn’t in the mood to share his space with anyone. He wanted time alone. Eventually, Thaylak could stand it no longer. He murmured some excuse about needing to find a ‘fresher (they all knew there was one just outside) and left the compartment. The ship was small, and didn’t offer much room for walking, so he settled for a sitting position in a transport booth. No distractions for his thoughts here. He tried to think about his upcoming plan, but if anything was too excited to do so. It shouldn’t be too difficult. He wasn’t sure it would work (they just didn’t know enough about Jashearl), but he’d try. He was almost giddy.
There was sudden movement, and he was joined by another, who seemed surprised to find him there. It was, of all people, the Nasat, C6 Yellow. So much for no distractions. Thaylak yelped (or snapped; he must have sounded irked): “What the Flood are you doing here?!” This was slightly unnerving.
“Hello. Just searching for a little spot to curl up in, go over my inventory...”
“I meant on the ship”.
Sea-Sick blinked at him. “Business back on Andor”.
Of course. He’s not here for you, idiot. He barely knows you. Not everything’s about you.
“Quite a coincidence, then?”
“Ha. There’s a saying among Nasats...” He paused. “Never liked Nasats really, excepting myself of course! Bunch of tremulous grubs, really. But they have their moments, when they stop quivering. One thing they say: “Meeting someone is a mistake; one you’ll inevitably repeat”. Get it? Of course, it sounds nicer in our own language, not this Basic blabber...”
“How does it sound in your language?”
“Ha! I’ll turn off the translator”.
“I didn’t know you could...”
The Nasat tinkled, and pulled a mechanical device from a pouch on his sash. It was blinking with orange lights but was otherwise unimpressive. It also looked far too nondescript to be completely legal, as though there should have been logos which had since been pulled off. Sea-Sick waved it proudly. “Disrupts the translator matrix. Useful if you’re trying not to be understood – ha! Listen”. He threw a switch on it and then opened his mouth. A string of oddly soothing noises emerged. It sounded like bells, clear and fresh. Or like birdsong in the mountains. Something that spoke of renewal, of life. Sea-Sick snapped the switch back.
Thaylak considered the Nasat for a few seconds.
“You’re not supposed to have that device, are you?”
The Nasat tinkled again. “Floor, no!”
Their antennae twitched - Andorian and Nasat in strange combination - and they both left. Thaylak returned to the passenger compartment, having nowhere else to go. He wasn’t in the mood for interruptions, and evidently he wasn’t the only one who wandered. Best to just take his seat and rest. Wandering, he thought darkly, wasn’t an answer to anything. He realized he was growing bitter, and checked his mood. This was a time for joy. He was going to bring life where it wasn’t – where it had once been taken, taken by him. This was redemption. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his rising excitement. He was here, he was doing this. Better make sure he had everything he needed.
Sitting down, he decided to check his credit chip. It took him several minutes of rooting around before he realized Sea-Sick had taken it. He sighed.
...............................
It was cold on Andor, thank Uzaveh. Too cold for Jashearl, though. He found her back in his home mountains, no surprise. The Jashearl embassy was in Eshrilith City, not particularly nearby, but she had evidently found the ice fields regardless. This was the right part too, just as the village road turned into them. She was obviously trying to find the general area, in remembrance. Or maybe it was the exact spot. Those feelers were pretty impressive when it came to sensing. How long had she stood there? How many times had she come? Nothing he’d read on their culture had suggested an answer. This wasn’t a ritual, then; it was just her.
She had the egg sack with her. Helkash, was its name. Or would have been. Would be.
Did she recognise him? How could she? She had been delirious, he an adolescent.
As he approached, she turned to greet him, but without words. She just stared, big black eyes unfathomable, like shadows without anyone to cast them. She made no further move. Waiting for him to leave?
For a long time, he stood there. He tried to talk. Eventually, and as the long silence burrowed into him, churning up memories, he found the courage – or the sheer power of need - to explain. He didn’t even remember most of it, afterwards. He honestly thought he might have forgotten she was there. Blocked her from his mind, most probably, or he couldn’t have bore the shame. But he told her. At least those bits she didn’t already know. What he was expecting he had no idea. Maybe that she’d attack him. Maybe that she’d turn and run, unable to face him. He wouldn’t blame her for that. Instead she just continued to stand there, deep black eyes staring back, unnerving.
Slowly, the inscrutable alien reached out a feeler. Thaylak didn’t move, letting it find a handle on his face, pressing to his temple. There was a brief sense of pressure, and he understood. Its father had given most of himself, and hadn’t enough left to renew it. Who else would offer? She would not ask it. But that was alright, because he’d willingly give it.
He heard her then, in his thoughts. He didn’t think it was telepathic, not truly. Something on a lower level, he couldn’t quite describe it. Alien, he supposed. The “voice” was painful - deeply so - and yet soothingly peaceful. She was a kind soul.
You did nothing wrong.
It was hard for her to understand this, but intellectually she knew it, and, painful as it was, she accepted it. Not knowing if she’d even hear, he replied -
Not intentionally.
This had been harder. His eyes filled with tears. I’m so sorry.
She wanted to know his name. He didn’t even know if sounds would transmit this way, but he tried. She was owed that.
Thaylak.
There wasn’t much to do after this. He placed his hands on the casing; she showed him how. It wasn’t the natural way, but the eggs were versatile things. They could make it work, if he truly committed himself. Life was life, and there was enough overlap to make a conversion. Her feelers found his antennae, and in the similarity of the neural sensors, the match was made. Biology was a wonderful thing, really. The process didn’t take too long, and besides feeling kind of sleepy, Thaylak didn’t feel much in the way of side-effects. He thought of the village instead, and the times he’d spent there. And there was Thelset and Ethtillith, and Rel and Rajiv of course, but how close did he really feel to any of them? Who else was there? His bondmates whom he never saw and hadn’t chosen, his long-dead parents he’d never paid much thought to, a multitude of faces and he hadn’t touched a one. He had a life in there, somewhere. But he had lost track of it some time ago, if he’d ever found a sense of it to begin with. And it wasn’t really his life anymore.
He was done.
He pulled away. He didn’t feel different. Slightly drained, he supposed, but not different like he was sure you were meant to. For a moment he was scared it didn’t work, but one look at the Jashearl confirmed it had. Black eyes like shadows became open to him. There was something else there besides darkness. Acceptance. Gratitude. He supposed that was enough. The egg-sack was throbbing now, like it was the first time. It wasn’t guaranteed an easy hatch, not after this long, but it should begin the process anew. The stalled seed of Jashearl would live. Helkash. He wondered what it meant.
Her eyes stared back at him still. Alien again. Incomprehensible, an endless well of dark. Closed. He felt a lump in his throat, and stood up. There was nothing more to say. Or, more likely, there was - but he had never been good at saying anything. Had he ever truly talked to anyone? He bowed, not knowing if she even understood the gesture. She dropped her feelers in that way they had; she’d understood.
He walked away with tears in his eyes.
.........................
He made it back to the village for Spring Festival. Most of the old crowd were still around, of course. Rel and Thelset were there, at least. He bowed politely to Thelset; she inclined her head in acknowledgement. She was preparing for a minor job in an embassy somewhere, a good starting position but really, she could have looked happier. He considered her, and all the locals, as he walked between the houses and Festival stalls. It was a reasonably nice day, and it was good to breathe in the air of home again. Really, he spent too much time in space. Maybe after his shelthreth duty was done he’d come back permanently, spend his remaining years here. He had to respect every minute now, and he should start living again as soon as possible. He passed a few familiar faces and acknowledged them with commendable cheer. Didn’t Falsharin have a shei now? Maybe he should go see her. He’d see old Rajiv while he was here, of course. The human didn’t have too long left, really. Thaylak thought it best not to mention that neither did he, now. Rajiv had always loved him.
By the estimations he’d made - and, admittedly, these were uncertain, there wasn’t exactly precedent for Andorians - he had six or seven, maybe eight years. Time enough to live a life, if he really put some effort into it this time. And he would live it free of his own disgrace.
As he arrived at the communal hall, he found Rel had matched his speed, for his old friend was waiting outside. He approached Thaylak excitedly. “So, you managed to show up again, after all! Good to see you, good to see you. Look, I don’t want to make a scene, okay, so you just meet me for a drink this evening, yes? I have to go find that old fool Torhf, he still has my communicator...” Thinking about it now, Rel had become a bit obnoxious. Hopefully his bondmates were patient, forgiving types; they might have to put up with it for a long time. Thelset was there too, stepping out from behind Rel, smiling in a teasing fashion. “I hear you were out on the ice fields a couple of days ago. Wasting time again?”
“I was out there”.
“And what were you doing out there?” she prodded. “Vital work?”
Oh, she had to mock. He almost considered being sarcastic, before deciding he couldn’t be bothered. He simply offered her a smile. She might understand one day, if he wanted her too. It was his choice, after all. And if they didn’t understand, that was hardly their fault. She - and Rel, and old Torhf over there moaning to some newcomer, and the rest - they were what they were. He’d just have to live with that. For as long as he could.
He nodded. “Vital work.”
He went to check on Rajiv.
...............
The Thaylak launched in 2390, toward the end of the Andorian year. It was a minor affair, an official but semi-memorable “event”; the first flight by a Jashearl craft built on Andor’s soil. A benchmark for a growing political and economic alliance, one of a string of minor partnerships sprung from the rebuilding efforts. The ambassadors showed up, a few local politicians (or more often their aids representing them), and just a few spectators. The ship made its first flight as planned, lifting off the ground smoothly to polite applause. Rising steadily, it swung into flight position, then kicked in its secondary engines and shot through the clouds.
Helkash watched it, bittersweet.
There's no real sense of a truly realized world, I'm just experimenting. But I like to think I did well enough 
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If I failed to communicate what I was trying to, I'm not too bothered about it; this is how I learn. 
