Solace

Something cool and very soft stroked at his cheek.
       He sighed and nestled a little more closely into the warm, feather-soft material enveloping him.
       Sooo good... where had kaachan found such wonderful bedding fabric...?
       A thin, rough hand gently stroked his hair back from his temple, and he cracked open one eye. Immediately jerking upright, wide-eyed with fright, at the sight of the creature seated beside him.
       "Y... you're not kaachan..."
       He raised a shaking hand to his forehead. Wait a minute... that's not right...
       Kaachan was dead. Along with the rest of his family, and most of his species... his memory came flooding back, and he sank his head into his hands, trying to force down his panic.
       Where the hell was he? Not in the pod - that much was obvious. Had Furiizaa captured him? Well, unless this was some new torture the changeling had dreamt up - let him think he'd escaped, lull him into a false sense of security and comfort and then tear it all away again - he wasn't on the Ice Lord's ship.
       He swallowed and tried to force his memory to work. He'd left Namek in a pod, heading for Hlavial. He knew nothing about the planet, except that it was still independent and possessed a high level of civilisation and technological sophistication. But he'd had no idea what the inhabitants looked like.
       Right. He knew that much. Presumably he'd made it to the planet.
       Raising his head and gazing at the creature still sitting patiently by his side, he smiled wryly. Don't know what the inhabitants look like? Well, if this was Hlavial, he did now!
       He had no idea what gender it was. He only knew that it was exquisite, humanoid, with long, fragile arms and legs, large pointed ears and big luminous silver eyes. Its skin was a rich copper colour, and the soft downy fluff covering its scalp, shoulders and breast was the most beautiful shade of silvery grey. It tipped its head to one side, blinking, then smiled.
       "Hello. Glad you are waking."
       The voice was low and breathy, very attractive. He chuckled.
       "You speak my language."
       "Learned from your little ship. Not well, yet, but will improve."
       "It sounds just fine to me. As long as we can understand each other I'm not going to worry about grammar and syntax!"
       "Hungry, you are?"
       He thought about it for a moment, and realised that he was. But then, cryostasis nearly always left him feeling debilitated and famished. He nodded, and the creature uncurled itself and stood, balanced delicately on long, taloned, avian toes.
       "Food I will fetch for you."
       "Thank you." As the being turned, he raised a hand and placed it on his own chest.
       "I'm Zaabon."
       "Tlillit'cha."
       He bowed his head slightly.
       "I'm pleased to meet you, Tlillit'cha."

Tlillit'cha was solicitous, almost motherly, insisting he rest, allowing him to do nothing for himself for five local days. Zaabon was uneasy about it, but had to admit even to himself that he felt weak and frail, an after-effect of Vejiita's pounding, perhaps: he didn't like the feeling at all, but for the moment had no choice but to put up with it.
       But there was something wonderfully luxurious, soothing, about being cared for so devotedly. Tlillit'cha let him sleep when he wanted - which was a lot in the first couple of days - fed him unidentifiable but very tasty meals, and responded quietly when he had the energy to speak. But by the fifth day he was feeling a lot stronger and beginning to take more of an interest in his surroundings. The little alien was happy to answer his questions.
       "Tlillit'cha? How did I come to be here?"
       "Little ship fell to the ground: you were inside it. I offered to care for you."
       Zaabon bowed his head. "I appreciate it. Thank you. But why?"
       The little being averted its eyes.
       "Find you beautiful, I do."
       Zaabon stared, lips parted, then frowned. He didn't like the sound of that - or the implications...
       "And that's why you're looking after me?"
       Tlillit'cha nodded, still refusing to look at his guest.
       "And what sort of - recompense are you expecting?"
       ... not sex... please don't say sex... I don't want to have to go through that ever again...
       Tlillit'cha smiled brightly, meeting Zaabon's eyes at last.
       "No payment, Zaabon. Is enough to have you with me, if just for a small while."
       Not sure he believed his delicate little host, still Zaabon was in no position to do anything about it. He nodded slightly.
       "I see. When can I leave?"
       Tlillit'cha's face fell. "Leave me?"
       "Leave this dwelling. I would like to see more of your - world." Zaabon frowned to himself, realising he didn't even know in what kind of colonies or conurbations the natives lived. Tlillit'cha brightened up.
       "Ah. Clothes I will get for you. Then we may walk about."

Tlillit'cha's idea of suitable clothing made Zaabon feel more like some exotic bird of paradise than anything else. Tight - very tight - brief, skimpy bodysuit in some sort of deep blue shimmering fabric that left the sides of his body, and most of his backside, bare. The deep V neckline was edged with what appeared to be silver beetle wingcases interspersed with pale blue feathers: the wide flowing sleeves of the rib-length, silver-grey diaphanous overshirt were cinched at the cuff by close-fitting silver bangles. Tlillit'cha insisted on plaiting strings of tiny, glittering gemstones into his hair, and replacing his old earrings with long strands of the same jewels (he'd lost his headband somewhere in his flight from Furiizaa - and didn't bother replacing it. It reminded him too much of his days under the Ice Lord). There was no footwear, but Tlillit'cha assured him he wouldn't need any.
       Once Tlillit'cha had finished his ministrations, he led Zaabon to a 3-D mirror.
       And Zaabon stared at himself, blinking, thoroughly startled.
       He looked... stunning. He'd lost weight during cryostasis (he made a mental note to himself to get back into training before he lost muscle tone and started getting flabby!) - his cheekbones and hipbones were more prominent, his waist and hips leaner, his eyes seemed larger and had lost that haunted look he'd seen far too often in his last days with the changeling. The gouges on his shoulders from that ugly, painful body-armour had healed, leaving only the finest silvery scars behind. His legs and arms were slimmer, his wrists more delicate - and his nails had grown: his hands looked elegant, now, making his habitually graceful movements even more striking...

He wasn't at all sure he liked the changes. This - was not the self he'd grown up with.
       This wasn't even the self he would have become, back home, had the Cold Empire never discovered his world. This was - something else entirely. Something quite dangerous, too. The thought of how Furiizaa's men would have reacted on seeing him like this made his heart jump unevenly. He swallowed, hard, and debated ripping the finery off and demanding something dull and inconspicuous and all-enveloping.
       Then he caught sight of Tlillit'cha in the mirror. The little being was gazing at him, a small, proud smile on his lips - and Zaabon was almost irresistibly reminded of Zarakyu. He looked at himself again.
       Yes, his brother - his beauty-loving, sensitive, artistic little brother - would have approved.
       He sighed, and for the sake of that insight let Tlillit'cha lead him from the habitat. Reluctantly, and cringing inside...
       He needn't have worried. He towered over most of the city's inhabitants, but this didn't seem to bother anyone, and the looks he attracted were admiring and appreciative, not lustful. Which in itself made him very anxious for a long time, it was so unusual. But Tlillit'cha led him through the sauntering crowd, greeting colleagues and acquaintances (at least, that's what Zaabon assumed they were) in his own tongue, introducing Zaabon - with an apology that not many of his people had learned to speak the alien language yet - and then walking leisurely onwards, allowing his guest to soak up the atmosphere of what was an intriguing and attractive place.
       At home, the cities had been built underground, and were warm and comfortable but practical places. On Furiizaa's gloomy, ugly little world everything was functional, grey, cold, depressing. Everywhere else he'd ever been he'd spent most of his time either killing at Furiizaa's command or onboard the changeling's ship - often in a tank. But this...
       This was beautiful. And vibrant. It hummed with life. Despite everything, in a short space of time he forgot what he was (almost) wearing, forgot that he was a fugitive, even managed to deliberately forget what had gone before, at least for a little while. He couldn't make out the purpose of most of the buildings they passed, but it didn't matter. This was a happy place.
       And his host had been quite correct. All the inhabitants went barefoot - and the walkways had been designed accordingly, gently yielding, smooth or cool or velvety or delightfully ticklish underfoot, to stimulate and pleasure those using them.
       It was perhaps all a bit much for Zaabon. His body revelling in the sensory pleasure a simple walk in this city could bring, for a little while he simply followed his host, wrapped up in the colours, scents, sounds and tactile impressions about him...
       Until finally Tlillit'cha led him into what was obviously some sort of eatery, and moments later he was presented with a hot, sweet beverage and a slab of something light, crumbly, warm and altogether delicious to eat. Sighing, and suddenly realising how exhausted he felt, he leaned back in his seat and smiled at Tlillit'cha.
       "Thank you."
       The little being inclined his head. "Very welcome you are. Glad I am you like my home." He frowned. "But tired you are. We must be home-going - rest you need."

By the time they arrived back at the habitat Zaabon was bone-weary and could hardly keep his eyes open, and was perfectly happy for Tlillit'cha to peel off his clothing and help him into the bed.
       He dreamed...

"Zaabon...?"
       He wrenched awake, gasping, eyes wild, to find Tlillit'cha at his side, gently holding his wrist. The silver eyes were wide, alarmed.
       "Zaabon? Bad dream it was. I am here."
       Zaabon sobbed once, trying to catch his breath, quell the hammering of his heart.
       "...sorry... I'm sorry..."
       Tlillit'cha sat on the bed, facing him, and tentatively wrapped thin, fragile arms around his shoulders.
       "Can I help?"
       Zaabon rested his forehead against the narrow shoulder, ashamed of his lack of control but for once content just to let someone else comfort him. Tlillit'cha gently stroked his hair, the rhythmic motion calming his trembling guest. Finally Zaabon pulled back, gazing into the little alien's face.
       "I'm sorry."
       "Not apologise. Feel better?"
       Zaabon nodded.
       "You need a drink? Food?"
       "No. Thank you. I'm sorry I woke you."
       The thin lips smiled. "Was already awake. Can you sleep again, now? Or rather stay wakeful, maybe talk?"
       Zaabon shook his head. "I'm tired. I'd like to try to sleep again."
       Tlillit'cha nodded, releasing his hold and gently pushing Zaabon back onto the bed.
       "Near I will be, if you dream again."
       Remarkably calmed by that knowledge, Zaabon dozed off. The rest of his sleep was deep, and he didn't remember his dreams.

"Tlillit'cha, what's outside the city?"
       It was several days later, and Zaabon was fast recovering his normal strength and stamina. The little alien glanced up at him.
       "Outside. Natural things. Big country. You would like to see?"
       He grinned and nodded.
       "Very much."
       Tlillit'cha inclined his head, then rose and gestured to the clothing storage cupboard.
       "If you will dress, I will take you there..."

They left the city by a large entryway in a high wall - and immediately stepped into a lush riot of colour. Huge trees grew right up against the wall, which Tlillit'cha said encircled the city, keeping the jungle more or less at bay: huge deep purple and light blue fronds arched over their heads, while the ground below was a carpet of minute turquoise flowers that released a fresh, herbal fragrance when bruised. Zaabon stood for a moment, gazing in fascination.
       "Is there a pathway?"
       Tlillit'cha inclined his head. "No. Not needed."
       Zaabon frowned. "How do you travel?" He caught himself. "I mean, do you travel at all?"
       "Yes. Passageways underground. Connect the cities to each other."
       "You don't fly?"
       The little alien shrugged. "No need."
       Zaabon's face lit up in a slow smile. "So you've never seen your world from above?"
       "Have seen picture. Satellites we have, for weather warnings, and to communicate, and to see into space."
       "I see." He turned his attention briefly inwards: he was steadily recovering ki and a short flight wouldn't tire him too much. "Would you like to see it with your own eyes?"
       Tlillit'cha blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Zaabon held out his arms - and the little alien stepped into them with alacrity. Zaabon rose smoothly from the ground, avoiding branches with ease and chuckling as Tlillit'cha let out an alarmed squawk, wrapping his arms tightly around his guest.
       "Zaabon flies?!"
       "Don't worry - I won't drop you. Relax and look."
       Within moments they'd breached the canopy. Above, the sky was a hot bright blue, the single sun blazing fiercely - but the wind was cool, and boisterous, gusting just enough to require Zaabon to keep his wits about him. Tlillit'cha was overawed.
       "Look..." he whispered, pointing over Zaabon's shoulder.
       Behind and below him was a fantastic concoction of graceful spires and towers, domes and arches, all a softly-gleaming silver under the faint haze of the force-shield encompassing the city. It was extraordinarily beautiful.
       Zaabon soared higher, suspended between the bright sky above and the infinite shades of purple and blue below him. The jungle stretched to the horizon, unbroken except for the city and a series of thinner patches that he suspected were the courses of rivers.
       So rich. So beautiful.
       Furiizaa must never find this place...
       But something was wrong, something was nagging at him. He couldn't quite place what it was.
       "Zaabon?" Tlillit'cha was frowning, gazing at his guest anxiously. "You are sad?"
       He sighed, then realised he was tiring. "No. But we should get back. Hold tight." He dropped gently down to land at the entrance and lowered Tlillit'cha to his feet. The alien held onto him for a little longer than was absolutely necessary.
       "Thank you. Wonderful it was."
       Zaabon smiled. "You're welcome." He hesitated for a moment, then;
       "Tlillit'cha, I'd like to see my pod - my little ship. Can you take me there?"
       "But yes. Now? Are you not too tired?"
       "I'll be fine."
       Tlillit'cha ushered him back into the city.

There were elevated moving walkways for beings in a hurry, and Tlillit'cha led Zaabon to one of them, gesturing for him to step on and hold one of the small upright columns studding the surface - to help him balance, as he soon found out. It was a smooth ride, but sections of the track were somewhat steep...
       Zaabon estimated they'd crossed half the city before Tlillit'cha indicated they should leave the walkway: the pair walked down a ramp into what seemed to be some sort of research facility - at any rate there was a lot of purposeful activity going on in and around a variety of what appeared to be laboratories. Tlillit'cha stopped at one and beckoned Zaabon inside. Once there he stood and stared, dismayed.
       The pod was in a sorry state. When Tlillit'cha had said it fell to the ground, apparently he'd meant it literally: the hull was badly cracked in a number of place. A closer inspection revealed deep burned scoring along the upper surface, as well. At a guess, the pod had been caught in a meteor shower...
       ... which could have knocked it off course. He climbed in hurriedly, relieved to find the navigational computer still operational. He called up the specs for Hlavial, holding his breath...
       Hlavial was a binary system. This world had just one sun. Which meant he was not where he'd intended to be.
       That was what had troubled him, above the city. He glanced at Tlillit'cha.
       "I need to know your world's galactic co-ordinates."
       Tlillit'cha inclined his head, then spoke to one of the beings working at a bank of computers against one wall. The alien nodded, and as Zaabon walked towards the monitor, called up the required schematic hologram.
       Zaabon stared, his heart sinking.
       He had absolutely no idea where he was.
       Taking a deep breath, he gripped the edge of the console, fighting down panic.
       ... stop it! Think, dammit - you can work this out...
       He quickly returned to the pod, checking the cryostasis duration counter. It was no longer in operation: it had probably been damaged when the pod crashed, but prior to that it showed he'd been in stasis for -
       Three years???
       Hlavial was only half a year distant from Namek by pod.
       Back at the console, he forced himself to concentrate. This world - Gratl'ff, Tlillit'cha supplied when he asked - was on the galactic rim, like Hlavial. Pods travelled at a set speed once they'd achieved maximum velocity: given time elapsed and speed of travel the computer should be able to work out where he was in relation to the worlds with which he was familiar. If he could locate the Cold Empire's homespace, he should be able to find his way back to his own part of the galaxy -
       - except that his pod was no longer spaceworthy.
       He slumped onto a seat and buried his face in his hands. Tlillit'cha laid a hand on his shoulder.
       "Zaabon? What is it?"
       He gazed up at the little alien, defeat in his eyes.
       "I'm marooned. Unless..." a small spark of hope "... you can repair my pod?"
       Tlillit'cha passed the question on to the operator - who shook his head. Zaabon's heart sank again.
       "Alas, not. We have not the right materials."
       Zaabon nodded, fatalistically. Well, there were worse places to live out your life...
       "But supply you with one of our ships we can."
       His head shot up, eyes wide with barely-concealed hope.
       "What?"
       "Ships we have. Been trading with other worlds for many ages. Our ships a little better than yours. Will make one for you."
       He stared disbelievingly.
       "You'd do that?"
       Tlillit'cha grinned. "Why not?"
       "I... have no way to pay you. Nothing to trade."
       The little alien's eyes twinkled.
       "Oh, but Zaabon has the perfect thing to trade..."

Soft music played in the background, complex, flutingly sweet, soothing and stimulating at the same time. Zaabon lay absolutely still on the bed, naked, hair loose about him, arms stretched gracefully above his head, one hip raised, his legs draped elegantly against the soft black cover...
       It was beginning to get uncomfortable.
       "Tlillit'cha, can I move yet?"
       The little alien poked his head around the electronic canvas he was working on, his expression preoccupied. "Moments only, Zaabon..."
       Zaabon sighed. Dedicated, single-minded... No wonder Tlillit'cha had reminded him of Zarakyu.
       The little alien was an artist - a famous one, he'd discovered. When they'd arrived back at the habitat, he'd shown his guest his latest series of works - all of Zaabon, mostly done while he'd been sleeping. There were simple drawings, a sequence of complex kinetic graphicworks, and something the alien called a 'touchsculpture', which appeared to be an accurate, full-sized, realistic image of a naked Zaabon; which, when touched, metamorphosed into the same image but comprised of water, or mist, or cold fire - even a shimmering galaxy, which Zaabon found somehow amusing. The transformations were random, and lasted until the sculpture was touched again. Tlillit'cha was pleased with it. Apparently it was to grace the foyer of a new gallery of work from aspiring new artists - a gallery that the little alien had designed and funded himself.
       He'd asked Zaabon to pose for another series of works, just while his ship was being built and customised - and Zaabon could hardly say no, although there were times (and poses) that had him in such discomfort he almost pined for a training session with Dodorya... No, forget that. He'd never pine for anything to do with that ugly pink eyesore.
       But the results were beautiful, and well worth the aches in his shoulders and back. The last kinetic graphic of all he'd particularly liked: it was a much simpler design that the others, yet Tlillit'cha had somehow managed to depict the yearning he felt, inside, for everything he had lost when his world had been destroyed, the pain of his years with Furiizaa, and the joy he would feel when reunited with his brother.
       He touched the subtly shifting picture carefully, smiling at Tlillit'cha with something approaching awe. The little alien caressed his cheek gently.
       "It is to stay with me, that I may keep something of you with me when you have gone, beautiful Zaabon."
       Swallowing sudden tears, Zaabon wrapped his arms around the fragile being and hugged, gently.
       "I have never known such kindness as you've given... I... Thank you."
       Tlillit'cha grinned.
       "It has been a pleasure. Hope I do that your search is successful - and that your life be happy. It is deserved."

There was one other favour Tlillit'cha asked of his guest: he had a small package he wanted to be delivered to a client on a neighbouring world. Zaabon had swiftly and happily agreed.
       And a day later, fully supplied with an extensive range of clothing and stores of nourishment and beverages, the sleek little ship was ready for Zaabon's inspection.
       It was fully equipped for long interstellar voyages, and luxurious - a spacious cabin with independent cryostasis capacity, should it be needed; separate bathroom with a sonic shower; comfortable control room with a wide viewscreen; even a small but well furnished recreation room with a variable-gravity generator. He nodded with satisfaction - they'd duplicated many of the instrumentation and main controls of the pod to make the ship easier for him to operate. It had extremely efficient defensive capabilities (for both natural and hostile assaults), a powerful sensor array, and long range tracking, autopilot and communications functions.
       There was also a small cargo hold at the back, which currently contained the pod: although it seemed unlikely he'd ever be able to use it again it took up very little space, and its mass made negligible difference to the performance of the ship. All useful information contained in the pod had been transferred to the ship's onboard instruments, but Tlillit'cha thought he might as well take it with him, just in case they'd forgotten anything.
       Overwhelmed by the little alien's generosity, Zaabon didn't know quite what to say. Surely a few pictures of himself couldn't possibly equal the value of the ship...
       But Tlillit'cha dismissed his qualms with a wave of a graceful hand.
       "You know not your own value, my friend. Nor the pleasure I have taken in your company. Go well, and do not forget us."
       Unused to goodbyes, but realising something was needed, Zaabon cupped the delicate little face between his hands.
       "Never. Go well, my friend."

Gratl'ff was a small, shining purple-blue jewel behind him. Several light years ahead of him lay the final part of his duty to his host - the giant ice world Mnrmh, and delivery of Tlillit'cha's package. From there he'd head back towards the galactic centre: he'd established that Cold homespace was on the other side of the galaxy from his current position - a long trip, but the little ship was faster and altogether more efficient than the pods (yet another reason to keep the knowledge of Gratl'ff's existence from the Empire). He sighed and stretched, switched the ship to autopilot, and retired to his cabin. A sleep would be a good idea...
       There was a small cabinet beside the bed, and on it was a little parcel. Frowning, he opened it - to find an exquisite picture of himself and Tlillit'cha, smiling, their arms around each other. There was a sigil at the bottom of the piece he recognised as the artist's signature...
       Smiling gently, feeling tears threaten, he carefully re-wrapped the gift and placed it safely in the cabinet, then settled himself on the bed.
       His sleep was sweet and deep and soothing.

Heh - hands up all of you who thought it was sex!
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