Thierry thought I was pulling their leg.
“A trick you pull on gullible off-worlders,” they laughed.
“Zephyr’s just shy with new people,” I explained. “Put out your hand.”
They gave me a look halfway between skeptical and suspicious.
When I dropped the squirtfish in their palm, they pulled their hand back, splattering the contents onto the floor. “Eww. What is that?”
“A treat for Zephyr,” I said.
“Felt like a handful of spit.”
“You’re from Earth, right? I’m told these are something like Earth jellyfish, so I’m snarled that you’re so flipped out.”
Thierry sneered. “We don’t exactly keep jellyfish as pets.”
“It’s not a pet,” I said. “It’s a pet treat.”
“Oooh, I stand corrected then. You sure your swamp dragons are real? I’m wondering if this whole hunt is a hoax.”
“You looked them up on Pedia, didn’t you,” I challenged them.
“Yeah. It’s just a stub. There are zero accounts of one in captivity.”
“They don’t last long out of the swamp. Mostly made out of oils and gasses. That’s what makes them look so cool – gives them the rainbow sheen. It’s a delicate ecosystem. Dad says that with all the terraforming, they’re not long for this world. He’s been trying to convince his bosses to preserve a few acres around the perimeter of the spaceport. He says that Zephyr can’t survive outside the marsh either. At least not in the ethereal state.”
Thierry made a face. “Ethereal? You mean ephemeral or aeriform? Those are both in the description of mist dogs in Galactapedia. The one other part of the description I remember is “possibly imaginary.”
I shrugged. “Pretty hard to verify something that’s invisible and only exists on a single backwater planet. Just because they have no physical aspect doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”
I pointed at the floor where Thierry dropped the squirtfish. “See the treat is gone.”
“It’s called evaporation,” they argued.
“Squirtfish are more substantial than that.”
“Unlike some other creatures,” they added with a cuckoo twirl of their fingers.
I grinned. “We’ll see what you say after the hunt. Let’s go.”
I led them across the fields, around tufts and mounds and hillocks of moss, through the gullies to the edge of Muculent Marsh, where the foetid stench seeped through the pellucid air. The swamp lapped and sucked at the toes of our boots.
I had told Thierry repeatedly not to wander off – that swamp dragons were deadly and would attack unprovoked. And they were only one of the dangers of our Llyrian swamps.
“Keep your hands and feet out of the water. ’Cause they can taste us coming for hundreds of meters in every direction.” I had told them.
But I had to watch my own footing, so I couldn’t keep an eye on them all the time. And when I turned around, Thierry was gone.
I backtracked, climbing up an extra tall mound for a more panoramic view.
I found them, doing exactly what I told them not to, dangling their fingers into the slough.
“Get back from the edge!” I shouted. “There’s a dragon coming at you!”
When Thierry whirled to look for the source of the shout, they lost their footing and fell into the water.
The dragon was one of the biggest I’d seen, arcing like a rainbow as it breached the surface about forty metres out. Colours poured off of it as it opened its maw and spewed a plume of fire that set the algae aflame all around it. When it dived I screamed again. “Get out of the water!”
I slid down the embankment toward Thierry, calling for Zephyr. And that’s when I saw it, sliding through the mist and smoke on the surface between Thierry and the dragon.
When my feet hit the footpath, I reached out and Thierry grabbed my arm, pulling themself out of the muck. What they couldn’t see behind them was Zephyr churning through the waves, driving the monster ever so slightly off course, buying us precious seconds as my visitor and I crawled up the slope, flames at our feet. As we reached the top of the hillock, I turned and flopped onto the moss. Thierry dropped down beside me, leaning back on their elbows.
Raised essentially in isolation, I never had any real friends. Didn’t even really see my dad much. For all their androgyny, Thierry was attractive to say the least. But at the moment, I was more focused on how infuriating they were. “You didn’t see it, did you?”
They shook their head, icy blue eyes seeming to go out of focus as they stared into the clear ever-twilit sky. “I’m reviewing the footage my drones captured,” they said, “and can’t see what threw it off course before it reached me.”
“Zephyr,” I said. “Zephyr threw it off course.”
“I have no reason to argue,” Thierry nodded. “But I seem to be missing half my drones.”
I’d never had a guest from Thierry’s privileged class before. Their insect-sized devices could not be protected from the creatures in the swamp.
“Why don’t we just stay here?” Thierry proposed. “It’s a beautiful day.”
They split the front seam of their thin purple jumper with a long slim finger and nibbled on their fingertip with perfect teeth. I had been masturbating for several years and had once tried using my savings to hire a sex-bot from the spaceport. My account had locked up autonomously and informed me that it could not fund my adventure. Being seventeen and pretty much independent for years, I was surprised and offended. But when Dad came home, I couldn’t work up the nerve to talk to him about it.
Thierry rose up on their elbows again and touched my face. “There are more fun things to do than chase dragons.”
I let them draw me into a kiss and felt their tongue slide across my lower lip and almost changed my mind. I pulled away in a bit of a panic.
“You’ve never been with anyone before have you?” Thierry said.
I shook my head, breathing intently through my nose. “But this isn’t the time or place. It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s a beautiful day. We’re out of harm’s reach…” they protested.
“We’re not,” I said firmly. “And besides, we’re here for a purpose. Your parents are on the Board at the spaceport. Grandfathered in. Just like you will be in a couple of years.”
“Somebody’s done their homework,” Thierry smiled and my resolve wavered yet again. Unfastened, the nanoprene fabric had shrunk back, entirely exposing one budding breast. When I had asked them in school how old they were, they said, “8631 years.”
“Most of that in lockstep hibernation,” I had responded. “How old are you really?”
“Physically? Sixteen. I was fourteen when we boarded.”
“You age during hibernation?” This was something I did not know. 8,000 years was a long haul. I’d never known anyone who was under for that long.
“They pulled me out three times,” they said.
“For testing?” I surmised.
They nodded. “Partly. Once during course correction. One of my parents is a crewmember. They said they missed me. Needed to see me. It was nice. The memory is quite vivid. The second time was called a mental health break. At least that’s what Lassa called it. No-one had told me about those before we left. Lassa said it was a recent innovation. They said, “Social interaction is an instinct we can lose.” They said they wanted to keep those skills primed. Lassa was a navigator. They had been awake for three years on rotation. They let me stay up for eight months. Showed me how lovely sex can be.”
My heart was pounding in my chest. This was the last thing I expected when I’d talked Thierry into coming to the swamp with me. I’d thought they were as interested in xenobiology and conservation as I was. But as the conversation turned, I recalled Thierry’s fascination with the fact that I was born on Llyria – that I was seventeen in every sense; mentally, physically, everything. And that I was sexually unmodified and considered myself male. Thinking back to the moment I had shared that revelation, I could almost read the excitement on their face. It all made me feel so naïve – so manipulated. Much like Thierry had clearly been upon the ship.
“I need to save the swamp,” I said. “With the port expanding, it’s due to be terraformed next year. Zephyr won’t survive. Neither will the dragons. Dad told me that they were critically endangered. You said you could help me save them.”
“I said no such thing,” said Thierry, glancing at the horizon with an ennui that seemed almost rehearsed.
“You implied it then,” I insisted. “said your “Y” parent had been appointed district administrator. Said they had the authority to make that sort of decision.”
Thierry shrugged. “I don’t really know them that well. We’ve only spent eleven months together. They weren’t all that interested in parenting.”
“Then why did you come out here with me?” I asked.
Thierry smiled with a calculated coyness and drew me down for a kiss.
At first, I was angry about being played for a fool. I felt certain at that moment that Thierry had no intention of doing anything for me beyond claiming my virginity. And their lips were so warm and yielding, their touch was so tender and confident that I almost came in my pants when they touched me down there. As I pulled back, breath hitching, I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye. Not much more than a ripple really – but still, far more familiar to me, and more recognizable, than the person who reclined beneath me.
“What?” asked Thierry, looking down. I suspect it was already too late to stop the process that had already begun. Like a thin layer of jelly, Zephyr moved up from the torso, coating the exposed skin on Thierry’s chest, neck, and face. With a momentary look of realization and panic, Thierry opened their mouth to scream. Nothing came out. But something went in. Like water going down a drain or being absorbed by a rag. The glistening, rippling visage of my mist-dog vanished. And Thierry’s eyes reopened with a newfound sense of zest and playfulness.
“You know,” they said. “We’re not nearly as endangered as you might think.” They sat up, awkwardly as I pulled back. They laughed, “You should see the look on your face.”
“But you just…”
“It will be fine. At least, once I get used to controlling this clumsy anatomy. But whatever happens, I should be in a good position to get those laws changed. You can consider your mission accomplished.”
“What if they catch you and figure it out?”
“No one has before now,” said my friend. “Besides, Thierry admitted that their parent hardly knows them.”
As astonished and horrified as I was, I knew and liked this being in front of me now much more than I had cared for Thierry or probably ever could. “Have you always been able to do this? Is it permanent? Could you have done this to me? What happens if you leave the body the same way you entered?”
Zephyr/Thierry laughed again. “I’ll answer all your questions while we walk back to the habitat.”
I guided their slide down the steep hillock, and they put an arm over my shoulder as they took their surprisingly confident first steps.
As we began the slow trek home, it began addressing my questions. “The spaceport is a big place and we have lived among you for a very long time. Grown up with you, you might say. And yes. I could have done this to you at any time. But I chose not to. I like you a great deal. So, I protected you instead, from others who may have had the inclination….”
I glanced back over my shoulder as we walked, staring into the glowing, ever shifting translucence of the swamp. This wasn’t going at all the way I’d planned.
At the moment, that seemed like a very good thing indeed.
The End
About the Author
Dale L. Sproule has over 70 published stories and poems plus two collections-Psychedelia Gothique and Psychedelia Noir and one Novel-Remapping the Human Template. A second novel-In the Dominion of the Executrix- will be published early in 2025
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