Chapter Text
Thia learned several things during her time in the vulture’s nest.
She observed that the vulture demonstrated greater intelligence through its tool use to paralyze its prey, a fascinating creature, one of the prime examples of the adaptability of Genna’s predators, truly impressive, and compared to the Kalisk, it was superior in its hunting strategy; it expended less energy to hunt and—but that wasn’t the most important thing.
The feelings Weyland-Yutani gave her, part of an enhanced “sensitivity” as they called it, could evolve, just as the animals she was sent to study.
In the vulture’s nest, Thia learned she could feel lonely. That emotion led to frustration with her situation, which in turn led to hopelessness. Her programming, those core subroutines running in the back of her internal processor, knew that these emotions weren’t logical or useful. Survival, as evidenced in the vibrant, deadly ecosystem here, could not be marred by feeling. Eat or be eaten, as the human saying goes.
The minutes turned into hours and then into days, and Thia watched the moons pass across the sky, cataloguing all the constellations. That information was unnecessary, but it’s a habit for her. She had other habits in the lab: talking to herself occasionally as she studied samples, arranging her workstation in a specific way that Tessa said had no benefit, dimming the lights in her habitation unit at night so she could see the stars outside her window.
Thia knew early on in her assignment on Genna that she was different, that the male-designated synthetics didn’t understand what she and Tessa could; they didn’t think deeply or question anything.
But Thia is also different than Tessa. She would draw detailed illustrations of their plant samples, and when Tessa pointed out that it was unnecessary because they already had visual documentation, Thia had no explanation for it other than that it was something she enjoyed doing. The other synthetics operated solely for the mission, never straying from their base programming, always in service to Weyland-Yutani. Tessa, despite her sensitivity, was more similar to them in ways than she was to Thia.
Tessa, who she thought of as she watched the vulture feed day after day. She told herself Tessa would rescue her. But she never came.
Dek did.
Now, as she faces him in the aftermath of the battle, covered in ash and surrounded by the remains of the Kalisk, Thia feels something new.
She recognizes her affection for him because she felt it for Tessa. But there’s something else there. The only thing she can compare it to is the joy she experienced when she made a groundbreaking discovery, or when she first saw Tessa on the transport, before she knew that Dek was captured. But it’s also…different. Thia has no vocabulary in her database for it. It’s something she’ll analyze later.
Dek moves first, efficient as always. He picks Tessa’s head up, and Thia has to turn away at the sight.
This must be grief, this aching pain, the sensation of being torn apart again—a part of her lost forever, unable to be fixed. And for the first time, Thia wishes she didn’t feel anything at all.
Bud shuffles over to sit at her feet, lightly tapping on her shoe to get her attention. She crouches down and strokes the young Kalisk’s head. “I’m sorry about your mother,” she says.
Bud closes her eyes and leans into Thia’s touch.
Now they are all grieving.
***********
Thia leads them through the base. “Since we’ve broken all the synthetics, I have a few things I need to do,” she tells Dek.
Weyland-Yutani is expecting the Kalisk, and when they realize what’s happened here, they’ll return in full force. They have to be gone before then.
“Didn’t break the tools,” Dek huffs, kicking aside a synthetic body. “I killed them.”
Bud runs beside him. She favors him now. Maybe if Thia gives her a head bump, it’ll even the score.
“Technically, synthetics can’t die because we’re not alive in the same sense as humans,” she replies. “We can be decommissioned, which involves—”
“Thia,” Dek cuts her off.
She enjoys the way he says her name, even though right now it’s in an exasperated tone. There’s that feeling again, more of a physical sensation, actually, now that she can process it more thoroughly in the moment. It’s warm, and it spreads throughout her tactile sensors until she feels as if she’s been lying in the sun.
Dek isn’t paying attention anymore, too focused on navigating the synthetic bodies strewn around. They all did a lot of damage. Thia’s proud of their little clan.
When they reach the closest habitation unit, she uses the retinal scanner to open the door. “We can clean up here,” she explains as she steps inside.
Dek follows with the slow, cautious steps he uses when he’s wary of his environment. Bud paces outside.
“Want to clean up?” Thia asks her. She chirps a negative.
The unit is smaller than the one Thia lived in, furnished only with a desk, a storage box, and a cot. It’s not meant for more than one body, and she has to squeeze past Dek to get to the washroom.
She pulls the handle on the wall next to the door, and the laundry compartment slides out. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been looking forward to washing all this gunk off,” she says.
Dek doesn’t comment as he watches her lift the lid of the compartment. When she begins unzipping her top, he makes a choked sound and turns away.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Thia says quickly. Humans are particular about nudity, and what she knows of the yautja, some clans are similar; their disrobing and armor removal is typically done in private due to their belief that being naked exposes their weak spots and leaves them vulnerable.
Thia stifles her natural inclination to tell Dek this. Sometimes it’s entertaining to annoy him with her information dumps, but for some reason she can’t identify, their current situation leaves her acutely aware of every word she says and every movement she makes.
“I’ll, um…” she falters for a bit. There’s a strange drag in her processing speed. “I’ll shower first.”
Dek grunts, still facing away.
Thia doesn’t take as long as she usually would—cleanliness is important when working in the lab—because knowing that Dek is outside the door while she’s naked makes the sensors on her skin feel like they’ve caught an electric surge.
After the dryers power off, she steps out of the shower.
Dek hasn’t moved.
If he turned around now, he would see her naked. Her stomach actuators flex at the thought. She’s concerned by the rapid acceleration of unusual sensations around Dek. Maybe the plasma explosion that killed the Kalisk distorted her internal processor?
She opens the laundry compartment and dresses in her freshly sanitized clothes. “I'm finished.”
Dek glances over his shoulder, giving her a once-over before turning around. With her legs reattached, she no longer has to crane her neck to look at him or wait on the ground until he picks her up. It’s a change she’s still adjusting to. She can tell it’s the same for Dek as he gives her another once-over.
“You can put your clothes in this compartment here. It’ll clean them,” Thia says. She explains how the shower and dryer functions work, and he nods. He sets Tessa’s head down and starts to unstrap the bone bison armor.
Thia’s curiosity overrides any consideration about privacy—she hasn’t had a chance to admire Dek’s creations. She reaches out to touch the rigid material, and he pauses, tilting his head at her.
“Can I see?” she asks.
He straightens his posture. “Yes,” he says. He finishes unstrapping the armor, glancing at her after setting his improvised weapons on the table until he’s wearing only his black tunic.
Thia runs her fingers over the handle of his makeshift razor grass whip. Each item shows how much he observed and learned during his journey on Genna, how he not only adapted but grew. Wolf, he called himself.
“You’re different than the other yautja,” she says. She pointed it out before, but she’s not talking about his size this time. “I think you’re better for it.”
Dek’s upper mandibles quirk up in response, an expression Thia hasn’t witnessed before, and she’s already categorized them all to understand him better. Most of the time they traveled together, he’s been either angry, frustrated, or confused. She does recognize the sound of his satisfaction, that deep rumble in his chest.
“You’re different too, Thia,” Dek says. “Better.”
His eyes soften just as they did when he first said her name. When he came back for her. Their gold coloring reminds her of her favorite flower on Genna, small and delicate and full of poison. She kept one at her work station because she thought it was beautiful.
Thia suddenly becomes aware of their proximity in the cramped quarters. It's not the first time she's been close enough to see the green in his eyes, but unlike before, he doesn't get upset and move away. His mandibles curl together as he studies her face intently, like he's made his own catalog of her expressions and he’s adding this one to it.
She isn't sure how long they would've stood there observing each other if it wasn't for the acrid stench of synthetic blood and dried Kalisk flesh overwhelming her nasal receptors. She takes a step back.
“Your turn,” she says, forcing her voice to sound steadier than she feels. She didn't know it was possible to become disoriented without even moving.
Dek nods, waiting for her to turn away before he finishes undressing.
Thia wonders what he looks like naked—her knowledge in that aspect of yautja is lacking, so it’s only natural, really, to want to look. What doesn’t seem natural is the return of that tightness in her stomach, how her artificial breathing mechanism speeds up.
She should probably run some diagnostics.
**********
While Dek retrieves his weapons and armor, she takes the opportunity.
The results don’t make sense.
ALL VITAL FUNCTIONS NORMAL
OPERATING PERFORMANCE AT 98.97%
PROCESSING SPEED AT MAXIMUM EFFICIENCY
NO LOGGED ERRORS
Thia chews on her lip as she tries to understand what this means.
“Are you done?” Dek shouts from outside the medbay.
She rolls her eyes at his impatience. “Almost,” she calls back.
She erases the diagnostics and gets to work repairing the wounds on her face and the remaining damage to her torso. The reattachment left a deep scar that would fully heal with an intensive repair cycle, but they don’t have time for that.
When she’s finished, she finds Dek outside the medbay with Bud at his side as he crouches down to rifle through a large bag. He’s wearing his usual armor beneath the bone bison chest piece, and he brought a SP-18 pistol with a strap attached, which Thia assumes is for her.
“The tools stole my brother’s weapons from his ship,” Dek says. He hands Thia the pistol, and once she wraps it across her torso, he gives her the dual-bladed shuriken she used to kill the vulture.
“Made for throwing,” he says, quirking both mandibles out slightly. “Not stabbing.”
Thia realizes it’s an expression of humor, a smile. Another addition to her catalog. She smiles back, satisfied that she’s successfully categorized the movement and happy with their new dynamic. “Thank you, Dek,” she says.
He grunts and resumes arranging the items in the bag. Thia watches him, thinking about how far they’ve come. She’s about to tell him this, how much she appreciates him, and that she’s so excited for their future together, but then he pulls out a small dagger from the bag and remains motionless as he holds it in his hand.
Bud chirps softly and nudges Dek’s arm with her head. He tightens his grip on the dagger and closes his eyes, lost in whatever memory it’s brought to the surface. The moment is short—Dek doesn’t let himself linger in his grief. Even with that, he’s efficient.
He puts the dagger away and pats Bud’s head before standing up and slinging the bag over his back. “We will return to my brother’s ship,” he says.
He starts walking, and Thia and Bud take their places beside him.
“So what’s the plan after that?” she asks as they leave the base. Dek is leading them west towards the valley where his brother’s ship is, away from the main route Weyland-Yutani uses for its transport vehicles.
“Training,” Dek replies.
Thia only realizes she automatically synced her footsteps to his when he slows his pace to let Bud catch up. Humans call it mirroring, a fascinating phenomenon that she hasn’t experienced before. How remarkable that one’s body can act without conscious thought, simply by being drawn to someone else. Her time with Dek has given her so many discoveries, more than she could have ever anticipated.
“Train for what?”
“My revenge,” Dek responds without looking at her. “I will return home with my trophy and avenge Kwei.”
While Thia appreciates his tenacity, she sees the inherent risks. She must be a wolf now, too. She will protect him and watch his back when his single-minded focus pushes aside caution.
“I can help you train,” she offers. “I was designated for research, but all the synthetics sent here have combat protocols. It didn’t help us with the Kalisk, obviously, but it was useful last night.” She pats her thigh. “Extremely useful.”
Dek follows the movement of her hand, and curiously, his eyes linger on her legs. It’s not the same amount of time as in the habitation unit, but Thia marks it as an unusual response anyway.
Dek looks away to focus on his path. The terrain steepens as they approach the valley, and they have to walk carefully as they climb over rocks and navigate dense brush.
Thia fills the silence by describing the vegetation and the herbivores that feed on them. Dek lets her ramble while Bud warbles occasionally.
She stops talking when they reach the valley's forest. The trio look at each other in silent acknowledgement of the potential danger they’re about to face. There are other threats here besides luna bugs and carnivorous vines.
“Stay close,” Dek says to Bud.
He turns to Thia, and she gives him a smile and a thumbs-up. “I’m ready.”