Talk to Creature

“Why are you following me?” you ask. “And why did you help me back in the cargo hold.”

A long moment of silence follows. You’re not sure if the creature is going to attack or flee . . . or if it can even understand you.

You turn your hands palm-up, in what you hope is a peaceful gesture. “Look, I don’t want to fight. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”

The creature’s hands relax, and you feel a slight sense of relief. Now, if you can just— The gold visor shimmers and clears, and you recoil as you see what’s beneath. It’s a face. Or rather, something trying to be a face and failing miserably.

Black eyes devoid of any white. A brow that is too heavy. Cheeks that are too hollow. A mouth that is too wide, and lips that are both too thin and too hard. Teeth that come to razor points. The skin is a human color, but it has a rubbery appearance, as if it’s more resilient than the real thing, and instead of hair . . . instead of hair, ridges of a bony, plate-like material that transition into what appears to be tentacles of some kind (although you can’t be entirely sure, as the back of the helmet blocks your view).

There’s something deeply unsettling about the face. It’s fallen into the uncanniest part of an uncanny valley. Every twitch and motion of its muscles feel like a bad copy of the real thing, as if it’s merely pretending to be human while falling far, far short.

The back of your neck crawls, and you feel an almost physical aversion. But you hold your ground. There’s a major mystery here, and you need answers.

You’d prefer to avoid getting eaten, though. “What—”

The creature’s lips contort, and a voice emanates from within. “Kvarau here: I think you need help, two-form.”

You blink, wondering if you’re imagining what you just heard. “The . . . Kvarau? Is that really you?”

The creature—the Jelly—cocks its head. “Kvarau here: The death of Umesh is of great concern to the Arms. The great and mighty Lphet decided it was important to be able to scent among your shoals without attracting unnecessary attention. So, this form was grown for me, and I was transferred into it.”

You put a hand to your head, trying to understand. “You’re saying you had your brain cut out and put in that body?”

“No two-form. My thoughts and memories were transferred to this form, and my previous form was recycled.”

“That’s . . .” Horrifying. You bite back the word. “So you’ve been following me.”

Another odd movement of Kvarau’s head. “Kvarau here: After you were attacked in the storage cave, it seemed good to stay close to you. It would not be good for two-forms or Wranaui if you were killed.”

Or me. “Okay . . . look, you don’t need to say your name every time you talk. We’re not using scent here, and it makes you stand out. And you can call us humans, you know, not just two-forms.”

If anything, the Jelly looks even more uncomfortable in its new skin. Its mouth twists as if it’s chewing on a bit of gristle. “Kv— Kv— That is not easy . . . human.”

“Uh-huh.” You glance around the chamber, at the giant bamboo-like stalks and the leaves rustling overhead. Not for the first time that day, you wonder how the hell you’ve gotten yourself into this situation. Were you going to trust the Jelly? It had saved your life, after all, and you could use the backup.

Kvarau points toward the room you’ve come from. “Kv— . . . Why have you decided not to follow the ones you hunt, human?”

“What do you mean?”

“Their scent leads that direction, human.”

“You can smell them?”

Another insectile tilt of the Jelly’s head. “You cannot?”

Apparently the alien’s strange, humanish body has some distinctly non-human abilities. You gesture toward the vine-clotted exit. “Not as well as you, it seems. Lead the way.”

Kvarau makes a clicking sound, as if satisfied, and with its peculiar, halting gait, heads out of the room.