Page 32 of Alien's Eternal Mate

I handed the ‘stylus’ back to the woman and moved on to the next Sage in line. He held a flattened disc about the size of a tea saucer in his hand.

“This looks like a gyroscopic balancer for a utility hovercraft. But you’ve probably been using it to heat pots of water, judging from these stains. You’re overloading the circuits when you power it up without being plugged into a hovercraft, by the way.”

I walked past the befuddled Sage and tilted my head to the side as I beheld the next artifact. It looked like a foot long rod with a translucent conical attachment at one end.

“Ah, I’m a bit embarrassed to say what this device functions as, but it creates a potent and variable suction at the conical end. It looks to me like you’ve been using it to clear cobwebs with, but I assure you something more unsavory is usually inserted in that end.”

I turned to Ignio and cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, Ignio? Shall I continue, or will you allow me access to the Sage archives?”

Ignio didn’t have a chance to respond, because the remaining three sages rushed me and demanded I tell them the actual function of their artifacts.

I spent most of the morning and much of the afternoon identifying things for them. The aliens were not stupid. They were, in fact, quite brilliant in the ways they applied the recovered Precursor artifacts.

Even if they used those artifacts in the wrong ways, they still found ways to utilize the technology to improve their lives. I had to admire their ingenuity.

Still, it must have been frustrating to the Sages for me to sweep in and display an uncanny ability to discern the purpose of their trinkets and toys. It didn’t take long before the rumor circulated that somehow Gro had been possessed by the soul of a Precursor.

I didn’t give credence to the rumors, but neither did I deny them. It didn’t matter to me. I wasn’t identifying the artifacts for the Sages to curry favor or to gain power in their society. I only hoped to increase my own knowledge, and more importantly, to find a method of getting back to my own body.

Why go looking for the Precursor technology when the Sages so eagerly put them right into my grasp?

Though I found many interesting artifacts, and some promising leads on further uses for the technology, I did not find anything directly relating to the chamber I’d stumbled into on Luna.

What’s happening to my real body right now? Is Gro inside of my mind? Have I bled out already? What happens if my body dies while I’m not in it? Will I die?

I’d been fighting off the existential panic of my situation ever since I’d woken up in the wrong body. Now my fears and anxieties reared to new life within me, prompted by my lack of progress in finding a way home.

“Enough,” Ignio said, stepping in front of me. “Can’t you see that Gro is exhausted? He’s been here since dawn, and now the sun begins to sink beneath the horizon. Let him be.”

I looked up in surprise to find that he was right. The sun had become a fat red blob on the horizon. I’d literally spent all day messing with artifacts.

“Please, go attend to your lifemate,” he said to me, leading me to the tower’s rear stairwell exit. “And welcome to the Sages, brother.”

He clapped me on the shoulder. I smiled and clapped him back. I’d successfully joined the Sages. I just hoped it would be worth all of the effort involved.

I returned to my home just as the first stars winked into existence overhead. The sky-stone we flew upon had passed into an area of brisk winds, stirring my hair and the thatches on the roof.

Inside, I found Arael sitting before the fire, a meal of alien bread and fungus-based cheese waiting for me. She looked up, arms encircling her knees, brows climbing high on her face.

“I heard you joined the Sages.”

I nodded.

“Then it’s true. What you said to me last night?”

“It’s absolutely true, Arael.”

“And Gro, the real Gro, he’s never coming back?”

The truth was, I did not know what would happen when I reached my own body again. Gro would likely return to his own flesh and blood. Or maybe he would not.

I did know that what Arael needed was comfort. Reassurance. In spite of myself, I wanted her to have it, even at the expense of the truth.

“No. He’s never coming back.”

Her bottom lip quivered, and then she buried her face between her knees and wept. I stood there watching, feeling awkward and foolish and useless.

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