Phil unwound from my shoulders and reached toward Lor, who allowed the vine to curl briefly around his wrist in greeting before Phil returned to me.
“I need to... I should...” Marco seemed unable to complete a thought, his eyes darting between me, Lor, Phil, and the alien backdrop visible through my windows.
“It’s okay,” I said gently. “Take your time. Process. I’ll call again tomorrow, and we can talk more when you’ve had a chance to absorb all this. Just know that I’m safe, I’m happy, and I’ll see you in three weeks.”
“Three weeks,” he repeated mechanically. “Your birthday. Right.”
“Love you, big bro,” I said, meaning it more than ever. “Don’t forget to water Mr. Fronds.”
I ended the call before he could respond, leaning back against Lor’s solid presence with a sigh. “That went about as well as could be expected.”
Lor’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, his thumb tracing the mark at the base of my neck. Our bond mark, now a silvery scar that tingled pleasantly whenever he touched it.
“He cares for you,” Lor observed. “His protectiveness is admirable, if unnecessary now.”
“He’s my only family,” I explained, tilting my head to look up at him. “After our parents died, it was just us against the world. He’s always been overprotective.”
“As he should be,” Lor agreed, bending to press his forehead against mine in the intimate gesture that had become our ritual greeting. “You are precious. Worth protecting.”
The bond between us hummed with contentment—that constant awareness of each other that had only grown stronger over the months. I could feel his satisfaction at finding me safe, his quiet joy at our reunion after just a few hours apart.
Phil slithered across the console to extend new blossoms toward us both—his way of expressing approval. Around us, the treehouse itself seemed to pulse with life, the walls contractingslightly in what I’d come to recognize as the jungle’s version of a hug.
“Home sweet home,” I murmured, taking in the strange, beautiful life I’d stumbled into. An alien warrior who loved me, a sentient jungle that had adopted me, and work I was passionate about that now carried the truth of a universe broader than humanity had ever imagined.
Sure, it wasn’t conventional. But as the twin suns cast their amber glow across our treehouse and Phil curled contentedly around my wrist, I couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.
The jungle whispered around us, its million voices joining in a symphony only I could hear—thanks to our neural connection—and I smiled, replying in the way I’d learned.
Yes, I thought back to it.I’m happy too. This is exactly where I’m meant to be.
EPILOGUE 2
LOR
The security systemrecognized my genetic signature, the metallic door sliding open with a whisper that sounded harsh after months of jungle rustling. I stepped into my Rodinian dwelling—all angular lines and polished surfaces—and felt like a stranger in my own territory. The sterile scent burned my nostrils, devoid of the rich organic compounds that had become as necessary as breathing. My ears flattened slightly, adjusting to the hollow acoustics of the space, while my tail lashed behind me in an instinctive response to unfamiliarity. This had once been my sanctuary, my pride, but now it felt wrong. Empty. Incomplete without Miri’s scent mingling with mine, without her chaotic energy filling the corners.
I moved deeper into the dwelling, my footfalls unnaturally loud against the polished stone floor. The central chamber opened before me—a sweeping space of minimalist Rodinian design with ceiling-high windows overlooking the purple-hued mountains of Tertius. Stark. Beautiful. Cold. My claws extended slightly, clicking against the smooth surfaces as I traced the edge of a console that controlled the dwelling’s environmental systems.
“Activate full spectrum,” I commanded, my voice echoing in the empty space.
The AI complied instantly, filling the room with light calibrated to match the twin suns of GL-7. Better. Still wrong, but better. I continued my inspection, moving with the measured precision that had kept me alive through countless missions. The security perimeter remained intact—motion sensors, heat detection, gravitational anomaly alerts—all functioning at optimal levels. I adjusted each setting, heightening sensitivity in some areas, reducing it in others. Miri had a habit of wandering where she shouldn’t, a trait both endearing and terrifying.
A sound from outside—the whistle of wind through the artificial canyon that housed the elite Legion residences—made my ears twitch, rotating to track the noise. Not a threat. Just unfamiliar. I realized my body remained coiled tight, ready to react to dangers that didn’t exist in this carefully controlled environment. My tail continued its restless movement, sweeping behind me in arcs that betrayed my discomfort. This place felt like a cage now, its perfection sterile and lifeless compared to the vibrant chaos of our jungle home.
I shook my head, forcing myself to focus on preparation rather than discomfort. Miri would arrive soon, and her comfort mattered above all else. I moved to the environmental controls, raising the ambient temperature several degrees. Humans ran cooler than Rodinians; Miri especially seemed perpetually cold outside the jungle’s humid embrace. Next, the lighting—I adjusted it to mimic the golden-green filter of sunlight through the canopy, transforming the harsh Rodinian illumination to something softer, more familiar.
The kitchen unit presented another challenge. I arranged the native fruits I’d collected on my journey here—violet-fleshed zaril, golden bursts of nylian, the rare red-speckled chambi thatreminded me of her favorite Earth fruit, strawberries. The food synthesizer had been programmed with Earth recipes, though the molecular composition was never quite right.
Miri had laughed the first time she’d tasted its attempts at coffee—“Like someone described coffee to an alien who’d never tasted it...which I guess is exactly what happened.”
I moved to the communication console next, my claws tapping delicate commands into the interface. The unit hummed to life, establishing connection to the Terran mate network.
Legion Command had created the system after so many have found their fate mates throughout the years. It allowed all within the Legion collective to connect with others who shared their unique experience.
Miri had been hesitant to join the network initially—“I’m not exactly a joiner, Lor. Besides, what would I even talk about with them? ‘So, how’s your alien husband’s tail working out for you?’”—but had eventually agreed it might be useful.
The doors to the sleeping chamber slid open at my approach. The massive platform that served as our bed dominated the space. It was large enough to accommodate my frame with room for Miri to sprawl in the chaotic sleeping position she preferred.
