Page 50 of Alien Healer's Touch

I placed my hand beside his on the cool surface. Where our hands rested, the door's markings began to show faint light - silver and gold spreading outward in synchronous waves.

A seam appeared down the center of the door, widening with a soft hissing sound. Beyond lay a chamber unlike the weathered ruins—pristine, as though sealed away from time itself.

"After you," Kavan said softly.

We stepped through together. The moment we crossed the threshold, the door sealed behind us with a decisive click.

KAVAN

The chamber illuminated gradually, revealing equipment and furnishings in perfect preservation. In its center stood a figure—an armored shape reminiscent of the guardian from the medical facility, but larger, more elaborately designed, its crystalline structure spiderwebbed with fine fractures. Its central core pulsed erratically, flickering between a dull, sickly yellow and an angry red.

The core pulsed once, twice, emitting a harsh, grating sound like stone grinding against metal. Then it moved toward us with jerky, unpredictable purpose, weapon appendages extending. One arm hung at an unnatural angle.

The guardian's arms struck without warning, whipping across my chest. I shoved Selene aside, the blow missing her but catching me hard enough to crack a rib. Blue-white light flared through the chamber as the automaton pivoted on its central axis, its movements accompanied by a high-pitched mechanical wail.

"Get back!" My tail lashed out, steadying me against the wall. This guardian bore no resemblance to our earlier sentinel. Where that one moved with purpose, this one jerked and twitched, its crystalline form pulsing with unstable energy.

"It's damaged," Selene pressed herself against the chamber wall. "Look at the fractures along its torso."

I noted the spiderweb of cracks across its crystalline body. "The facility's deterioration has affected its programming."

The automaton's head rotated a full circle with a shower of internal sparks. The harsh, grating sound emerged again—nothing like the melodic tones of the previous guardian. A projectile of crystalline energy suddenly shot from one appendage, missing us wildly and striking the far wall, leaving a scorched crater in the ancient metal.

"We come seeking knowledge," I said in the formal Nyxari dialect reserved for sacred spaces, hoping the ancient language might penetrate its corrupted programming. "We bear the markings of healers."

The guardian answered with another wild swing. I ducked, feeling air displace above my head where I'd stood just moments before. "It's not recognizing standard protocols," I called to Selene.

She circled to my right, maintaining distance from the automaton. "Maybe it operates on a different system? The other one responded to our combined markings."

I reached for her hand, our markings illuminating at contact, but the guardian grew more agitated, its movements more erratic, its core flashing rapidly between yellow and red.

"Down!" Another energy bolt sizzled past, striking a control panel that erupted in sparks. Selene rolled to her feet with surprising agility. "This isn't working. We need to try something else."

The automaton lurched forward, jerky but alarmingly fast. I spun away from another blow, my tail whipping around for balance as I positioned myself between the guardian and Selene. "This system must predate the unified protocols," I said, recalling ancient texts. "Before the Great Division, different facilities operated independently."

"What about medical terminology?" Selene shouted over the guardian's mechanical wailing. "If it's a medical facility, it might respond to healer language!"

The thought struck me like lightning. "Of course!" I straightened and called out in the most ancient dialect I knew, words passed through generations of healers: "Tivarai nyxl'uran val'ekath!"

The guardian paused mid-movement, its wailing subsiding momentarily to a low, grating hum.

"What did you say?" Selene whispered.

"I declared us as adepts of the healing arts, coming to serve the wounded."

The automaton's erratic movements slowed, though its core still pulsed with unstable red light. It rotated toward me, head tilting at an unnatural angle.

"Syvaris ekath'ulan?" it rasped, the ancient term for healer credentials distorted by damage.

"It wants proof," I translated. "We need to demonstrate our healing abilities."

She squeezed my hand. "How?"

"A diagnostic ritual. The oldest one I know." I positioned myself before the guardian, drawing Selene beside me. "Follow my movements."

I began the ancient ritual, hands moving in patterns that predated even my people's written history. Selene mirrored me with remarkable precision, our connection allowing her to anticipate my movements.

"Revarin sylex," I intoned. "Healer's oath." The guardian's erratic movements calmed further as it observed us. Its core shifted from angry red to a cautious, flickering orange.

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