I never had an impressive physique, and that truth struck without mercy under Donna’s brutal sun. It wasn’t like Earth’s heat; there, the air felt like a burning wall pushing my body to its limits. With the girl still in my arms, I searched for the fragile shade of a twisted tree. The ground around it was a carpet of thorns and sticks, impossible to use as support for her. I sat down and kept her against my chest, protected — and bound to me like a weight I would carry far longer than I had expected.

  When I finally felt my breath return, I called for AX. He emerged from the invisible phase, and his pale-blue glow lit the dimness created by the foliage. Just seeing him brought immediate relief — as if someone had come to share the weight of all that with me.

  But the relief didn’t last. The moment I understood — truly understood — what I had done, a chill ran down my spine. Years studying the Sekvens had been enough to know the gravity of an impulsive act — and yet, I asked:

  “AX, what do I do with her?”

  “She is yours. Her life belongs to you.”

  The sentence fell between us with the weight of a verdict. And as contradictory as it seemed, there was truth there — a deep, almost ritualistic truth. I, a human isolated from the Known Universe, was now bound to the rules that governed their morality.

  That young woman wasn’t my slave. She was my responsibility. My life belonged to the Sekvens; theirs belonged to the entire Universe — and, by direct extension, that fragile life I carried in my arms was now linked to all of us. “To belong” had another meaning among them. It meant care. Commitment. Love.

  And yet, I was human. Capable of failing, shouting, losing control. Capable of hurting without meaning to. The idea struck me like something physical.

  “I chose her… but I’m not alone,” I murmured, more to myself than to AX.

  “You acted like a being of the Known Universe,” he replied.

  That sentence, simple as it was, pierced me with unexpected warmth. For the first time, AX wasn’t describing me as a human — but as one of them.

  “I acted on instinct.”

  “If you did not love her, you would not have taken her for yourself.”

  The word “love” ignited something I did not want to acknowledge.

  I took a breath, turning my gaze to the young woman.

  “AX, can you see how she is?”

  “With limited precision. But enough.”

  He paused — minimal, technical — before continuing:

  “Shoros sent a message: the full studies of Selium DNA are already underway. A regenerative capsule will be dispatched. The case surprised her.”

  I almost laughed. Xerantos never get surprised.

  Later, I would discover: a task force of over a million specialists completed the Selium study in five days. All because that life now belonged to me — and, by extension, to the Sekvens.

  “She’s in pain,” I said. “Sleeping, but still trembling.”

  AX responded without hesitation:

  “She has severe inflammation in the cervical spine, preventing movement. A clot threatens the vision in her left eye. Chronic ear infection, with fifty percent hearing loss. Lack of nutrients, low blood pressure, scarce blood. Scars all over the body, absence of hair, and…”

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  “I get it,” I interrupted, rubbing my forehead. “Good thing your precision is terrible.”

  AX emitted an offended noise.

  “It is not terrible.”

  “We need to go back to the ship. Can you carry two?”

  “Only one. Night is approaching. I suggest that Jazzia performs the rescue under darkness.”

  “Perfect. I… can’t walk anymore.”

  He approached the girl, analyzing her. His voice grew more serious.

  “The bleeding will not stop on its own. Platelets dangerously low. If we do not intervene soon, she will die.”

  “Can you administer first aid?”

  “The regenerator will work for her. Apply it to the neck. I will retrieve the rest. I return in 6.8 seconds.”

  “Wait! And the poison?”

  “You were already immunized. We detected the molecule earlier.”

  Of course. I should have suspected. Xerantos never leave room for chance.

  The regenerator was in the backpack strapped to my back. I tried to reach it by twisting my body without letting her go. She remained unconscious, breathing with difficulty.

  “I will administer the medication,” AX said. “Do you need something to cover the ground?”

  “No… the paste they spread on her turned into glue.”

  “She will need to remain in warm water for half an hour later to remove it.”

  With the regenerator in hand, I applied the translucent gel to the wound on her neck. Her skin absorbed the compound as if it had waited for it her entire life; the bleeding stopped instantly, and the tension in her body eased slightly.

  The temperature dropped. The forest grew silent, as if holding its breath. The odor of the paste covering her was still strong, but soon blended with new scents — damp earth, nocturnal leaves.

  Tariel — still nameless then, yet more alive — began to breathe more deeply. Color returned to her face. Her body relaxed. Her arm moved slightly, seeking comfort.

  She did not wake — but she returned to existence.

  While AX worked, my studious side awakened.

  “What did you administer to her?”

  “Analgesics, anti-inflammatories, water, energy, minerals, and amino acids.”

  “Humans use that?”

  “Selium biology is distinct. I administered only universally safe substances.”

  “How did you deliver them?”

  “Same technology as the ship. Temporal phase manipulation.”

  He explained — phase jumps, energy shortcuts, catastrophic risks. The immense Shoros required to contain all of it. The fourth dimension mastered by the Xerantos.

  I listened, but my eyes were on her.

  Her face — bruised, scraped, aching — now looked simply tired. Human. Alive.

  I touched her cheek with the tip of my fingers. A small gesture. Subtle.

  She opened her eyes.

  And the world narrowed instantly.

  They were no longer opaque. They were intense. Deep. Their color — impossible to name, almost luminous — grabbed me in a silent strike.

  She looked at me, frightened.

  “Don’t be afraid,” I said softly. “I’m here to help. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes…” she murmured, weakly.

  “Are you in pain?”

  “No…”

  “Good. You already know how to say yes and no.”

  I tried to smile. She tried to move, and I held her firmly.

  AX shifted so she could see him.

  “This is AX,” I introduced. “My friend. And now your friend too. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  Sweetheart.

  I only realized afterward — I was speaking like the Sekvens. Sweetening the world with instinctive, automatic affection.

  It took her a few seconds before she answered:

  “Tariel…”

  She hesitated, then whispered:

  “You can’t touch me…”

  “I’ve had you in my arms for three hours,” I said. “I’ve touched your blood, your mouth. And I’m fine.”

  “He is immune,” AX added.

  Tariel relaxed, still cautious. Tears appeared without warning.

  “The pain… stopped,” she confessed. “It hurt… always. Why?”

  She wasn’t asking about medicine. She was asking why someone had saved her.

  I breathed deeply.

  “Because you belong to me,” I said. “But not as a slave.”

  She looked at me as if trying to see who I was inside.

  “That is not something a human would say.”

  “No… not the way I said it. Let’s say I am… different from the humans you met.”

  A strange sound echoed behind us. Tariel stiffened, her chest pressing against mine.

  “A field rat,” AX said.

  “Tariel,” I called, holding her face between my hands. “You’re safe. Nothing will happen to you.”

  “You… were going to eat me…”

  “Breathe. Look at me. Look at him.” I pointed at AX. “We’re not from this world.”

  Finally, she breathed. She cried. A lot. She collapsed against my shoulder, trembling.

  I held her, tightening my embrace gently, feeling my own chest grow heavy.

  “You can cry,” I whispered. “And… if I cry too, ignore it.” My voice broke. “As long as you live, you will never be alone again. I, AX, and the entire Known Universe will care for you.”

  Night enclosed around us. The distant sounds of the field accompanied her crying — and mine.

  As I stroked her shaved head, I tried not to think about the Sekvens. They love. They feel. But they do not know sadness.

  For a moment, I envied that part of them deeply.