Page 33 of Alien Healer's Touch

I glanced at the walls, seeing her meaning. The glyphs illuminated in sequences—repeating patterns that forecast the guardian's next movements. If we could anticipate them...

The guardian paused, its form rippling as a new sequence of glyphs activated across the chamber. I studied them quickly, recognizing the pattern from moments earlier.

When it struck, I moved with it rather than against it, turning sideways to slip between two blade-like projections. The maneuver worked—I escaped the corner, rolling to a position near the central crystal.

"It can't improvise," I called to Selene. "It follows the command sequences exactly."

The guardian turned, reorganizing for another attack. I watched the wall patterns, anticipating its next move—a multi-pronged strike from three directions. When it came, I ducked beneath one limb, sidestepped another, and jumped over the third.

But the guardian adapted. Even as I evaded its prescribed attack, parts of its form broke away, forming smaller constructs that skittered across the floor toward Selene.

"Behind you!" I shouted.

Selene spun, backing against the central crystal as the smaller constructs advanced. Her markings flared brilliantly where they touched the crystal's surface, sending ripples of energy through the formation.

The guardian's main form surged toward me again, executing another attack sequence. I dodged by reading the wall patterns, but my divided attention left me vulnerable. A jagged appendage caught my leg, sweeping my feet from under me.

I hit the floor hard, the impact driving breath from my lungs. The guardian loomed over me, its form reconfiguring into a mass of sharp projections aimed at me.

SELENE

The guardian slammed Kavan against the far wall and he crumpled to the floor. My heart stopped—would he rise again? My markings burned beneath my skin, responding to the danger like a silent alarm.

"Kavan!" I stepped forward without thinking.

The guardian swiveled, faceted body reorienting toward me. Something caught my eye—a flicker of light along the chamber walls that matched the rotation of the guardian's crystalline segments.

I stopped. Not from fear, but recognition. The synchronization between movement and wall pattern clicked into place. My diagnostic training recognized it immediately—like how certain diseases present patterns, symptoms connecting to causes. This wasn't random aggression.

"It's not attacking," I called to Kavan as he pushed himself up. I felt his presence behind me—tense, ready, but letting me lead. In that moment, I realized just how much he trusted me, even when his instincts screamed to protect. "It's scanning!"

He paused, golden eyes finding mine across the chamber. "What?"

"Don't fight it!" I moved toward the central console where blue-white light poured from what looked to be an interface. "It's responding to facility parameters, not us."

Kavan backed away from the guardian, movements deliberate. The guardian rotated, its faceted body reorienting, its segments shifting but no longer advancing.

"How can you tell?" He kept his eyes on the construct.

I pointed to the walls where patterns pulsed in sequence with the guardian's movements. "Medical diagnostics—looking for correlations in seemingly unrelated systems." I approached the interface, following instinct. "This isn't autonomous. It's security. A tool."

The geometric structure vibrated, producing harmonics that resonated through my chest. I extended my hands toward the console, palm up, markings tracing from wrist to fingertips.

"What are you doing?" Kavan edged closer.

"Showing it I'm not a threat." The words came naturally, as if some part of me understood this place beyond conscious thought. "This is a medical facility... and I'm marked."

The guardian paused, its posture shifting. The console's blue light intensified, bathing my arms in cool radiance. My silver patterns responded, illuminating with a soft glow that matched the rhythm of the light.

"I think it's working," I said.

Kavan positioned himself beside me. "The guardian appears to be processing your pattern."

I rotated my wrists slowly, watching reactions. When I flattened my palms, the construct retreated. When I curled my fingers, it advanced. "This is rudimentary communication," I explained, testing different positions. "Like teaching a child basic signs."

"Can you tell it we're allies?"

I spread my fingers in a new pattern, following an unexplainable impulse. The guardian folded some facets inward, changing configuration.

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