We Dream In Ones and Zeros: An Anthology

Symbiosis

PROMPT: Write a story about an original alien species.

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"Do you recognize these?"

It wasn't like Yolanda had really been fishing for an answer there, mind already far gone and lost in the hundreds of readings she was getting from her plant samples.

But when her question got nothing in return but a good couple of seconds of that quiet, constant hissing from her oxygen supply and radio system, a twinge of worry did burry itself into the back of her head, enough to make her look up and away from her screen.

There was a millisecond of panic when the thought of her partner ditching her or getting lost crossed her mind. But no, Azul was still there, crouched down next to some bright yellow fungi sacs sprouting from the ground.

Yolanda sighed, more out of relief than anything. She'd done plenty of group missions with Azul, but this was the first time where it was just the two of them, alone. And the last thing she wanted to do was to have to explain to the head researcher that she'd "lost their alien".

Alien ... it was still such an odd concept to her.

If someone had told her a decade ago that she'd not only get to see a sentient alien species, but have a working, and even friendly, relationship with one, she would've laughed right in their face. And then maybe scan their brain for anomalies. Just in case.

Yet here she was, on a mission with 'their alien'.

"Hey, Azul?"

Azul didn't hear her, of course. But it did sense her approaching it. It looked up at her. Or at least it seemed that way to Yolanda.

The alien's body was transparent and indistinct. An oddly textured blob that only vaguely resembled a humanoid. A shape that it had slowly taken over years of interacting with humans, in a fascinating but equally disturbing form of survival-based mimicry.

Like everything on this planet, the Liquet, as Azul's species was aptly named, communicated in vivid colors. The glowing blue sheen that its jelly-like body usually adopted seemed to be a particular favorite of this specific specimen, and what had initially prompted the nickname Yolanda had given it.

A stupid nickname, meant for a convenient joke. Why it had stuck was beyond her. But the alien had taken a liking to it for some reason, so ... yeah. Azul it was.

She watched as her alien partner raised its hand-like appendage between them. Tendrils, thin and transparent, sprouted from it, forming something akin to fingers, which began to form a familiar sequence of shapes.

"'Everything alright?'" it signed to her, its head-like protrusion tilting to the side in a very human-like gesture of confusion.

Azul had always been very quick to pick up on that sort of stuff.

Maybe too quick.

"Yes, everything's fine. I called for you," Yolanda said, signing along with her words.

It was mostly unnecessary by this point, as Azul's understanding of human sounds and language was now good enough to follow a basic conversation without it. But it was important for it to not lose practice of sign language, since that was its only way of communicating back to them.

Plus, there were still some ... gaps.

"'Sorry,'" Azul signed.

But it wasn't the correct sign. In fact, it wasn't any sign at all.