Fragile Orbits

The med bay doors slid open with a wheezing hydraulic sound that seemed to mock their hesitation. Vex’lar’s crystalline exoskeleton refracted the harsh blue lights in geometric patterns across Eliana’s face. She squeezed his appendage—not hand, never hand—careful not to apply pressure where his lattice grew thinnest.

“The doctor will think we’re fools,” she whispered.

Vex’lar’s voice came as it always did, through the resonant vibration of specialized membranes. “Better fools than mourners.”

Dr. Sharn was a Combine creation—a being assembled from genetic material of twelve species, designed for interstellar medicine. The irony wasn’t lost on Eliana that they were consulting something that had never evolved naturally about how to merge their own incompatible biologies.

“You’ve waited three years,” Sharn said without preamble, multiple pupils dilating within amber irises. “Most interspecies pairs don’t make it past six months before curiosity or lust gets the better of them. Usually with catastrophic results.” The doctor’s six-fingered hands flicked through holographic displays of their medical histories.

“We’ve been careful,” Eliana said.

“Careful is for bureaucrats and cowards,” Sharn replied. “What you’ve been is terrified.”

Vex’lar’s crystalline form shifted hues slightly, betraying emotion in the way of his kind. “I would shatter her bones. She would dissolve my outer membranes. These are not paranoid fantasies, Doctor.”

Sharn made a sound that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t been so mechanical. “You think you’re the first? Every cycle brings another pair of cosmic fools who believe their love is worth transcending biological incompatibility.”

The doctor pushed away from the diagnostic panel, hovering on gravitic implants. “The Corporation charges exorbitantly for interspecies modification permits. They prefer neat categories, tidy taxonomies. Keeps the paperwork manageable.”

“We have credits,” Vex’lar said.

“Credits.” Sharn spat the word. “What you need isn’t for sale through official channels.”

From beneath the medical console, Sharn produced an object that resembled a chrome scarab beetle. It pulsed with internal bioluminescence.

“This is a Concordance device. Illegal in sixteen systems, including this one. It creates a quantum field that harmonizes incompatible physiologies for up to eight hours.”

Eliana stared at the device. “Side effects?”

“Addiction is possible. Neural imprinting. Occasional spontaneous cellular revision. Nothing permanent. Usually.”

“Usually isn’t good enough,” Vex’lar said, colors shifting to troubled amber.

“Then leave.” Sharn’s multiple pupils contracted to pinpoints. “Continue your sterile orbit around each other, never touching, never knowing. The universe is cruelly designed, but occasionally we find ways to cheat it. Your choice.”

Eliana reached for the device the same moment Vex’lar did, their incompatible appendages meeting above the gleaming scarab.

“We’ll take it,” they said in unison.

Dr. Sharn’s face contorted into what might have been a smile. “Of course you will. That’s what all the fools say. Perhaps you’ll be among the lucky ones who survive the experience with your minds intact.”

As they left the med bay, the scarab device nestled in a containment box, Eliana looked up at Vex’lar. “Are we making a mistake?”

Through the corridors of the ancient freighter, distant warning klaxons sounded—routine mechanical failures announcing themselves to an indifferent crew.

“Yes,” Vex’lar said, his crystalline form briefly pulsing with deep violet light. “But some mistakes are worth making. Some boundaries are worth breaking.”

They returned to their quarters, cradling between them a technological abomination that promised either transcendent union or mutual destruction. In a universe where species were never meant to love across biological divides, their rebellion was both intimate and cosmic.

After three years of careful orbits around each other’s fragile forms, they were ready to risk a collision.