The Valley's Shelter

There weren’t always Dragons in the Valley. There was a time when Dragons did not exist at all. The only places they were ever found was in myths, as the legendary creatures of Old Earth. Aty had grown up listening to stories that had traveled with her kin into the depths of the void. As she traveled in the vacuum from birth she had listened to tales of great ancients of nature and wisdom. They were the primordial essence of their Home. But there were times in these stories where they were terrible beasts - animals or people transformed by greed and malice into lamentable monsters. Which struck Aty as morbidly comedic - and then as deeply sick - given the birth of the real Dragons.

She turned away.

“They make me sad.”

Aty felt Elihue shift, though his eyes did not leave the viewport. “They make everyone sad.” he responded.

“If that were true, they would not be.”

“True.” He agreed, the word barely able to escape as more than a whisper.

She breathed deeply, attempting to empty her mind, to accept the sadness and let go of it, but it festered where it had grown since they’d been sent to retrieve the creatures. She moved further away from the viewport, unintentionally even towards the exit, before she made her way to the guest pantries against the wall. Tea and honey would not soothe her, nor would it solve the issues at hand, but it made for something to do.

The new surgeon would arrive soon, and then she would feel better. The Dragons would no longer be in pain and they could continue as normal. Had they access to more staff, the detriment of turnover would not affect them so much. Had they access even to a Wetware AI… But no, that would be unethical.

“Would you like a cup?” She asked, depositing a chamomile filled capsule into her vacuum flask.

She looked back to view Elihue in profile, his eyes still glued somberly upon the viewport. He shook his head.

She frowned. He had taken their discovery even harder than she. He was newer to the occupation. Fresher. His eyes had not seen the horrors that hers had. She had thought that perhaps with how well he had reacted to the first instances of what Purists had done that he was simply resilient, but now she wondered if she had perhaps mistaken penitent defeat for stoicism.

“Would you make me one then?” She asked. “I’m going to take this one to Zipporah.”

His brow furrowed and he finally looked away from the habitat below. “Ah. Certainly.”

She almost smiled, and moved to the side so that he could retrieve a sterilized flask from the pantry, as well as another reusable capsule to fill.

Helpers need to be helping. She thought to herself.

While he was making her the tea, a notification finally appeared upon her Courier. It was the one they had been waiting for. With drinks in tow, the pair departed from the viewing station and headed towards the dock.

———————————————————————————————————————

The Valley was to Aty as much a home as anything. She had lived with and within it for more than half her life, venturing out only rarely to inspect orbital stations and the conditions upon planetary bodies. Though usually even then relevant data could be brought to her by the away crews, but she still liked to stretch her legs and breathe new atmospheres from time to time. And yet there was still nothing like the Valley. It was a sanctuary for reason, kindness, and the rehabilitation of Purist creations. Corridors filled with the soft glow of ultraviolet led to laboratories, research departments, medical bays, modular stations where therapy could be applied to almost any being warped by gene-molding. Habitats of various biomes held equally various beings, permitting them comfortably safe lives until the end of their days.

She knew every inch like the back of her hand, and still could wander it for hours.

That said, she moved through the curved halls of the ship and its passageways as though they weren’t even there. Her comfort in the Valley’s progressive nature could only occur if there were actual progression to its intended nature. Elihue followed at an even clip, but he still had a detectable stiltedness to his movements – a deference to her direction that was not just in relation to her senior status.

After what felt like no time at all the pair were at their destination: The Valley’s docking bay. A well-lit expansive space that even at its stillest moment hummed with activity. As of this moment the humming which concerned Aty was coming from a small vessel which had entered the bay, the orange docking doors only just sealing shut beyond it. A familiar dock worker stood – as did several others – at one of a handful of hybrid warning/directional lights, signaling to the vessel’s pilot to approach their landing zone. Once the hazard flashes of the lights dimmed, the vessel’s solar sails folded away and its hull magnetically locked in place, the pair approached the dock worker.

“We brought you chamomile.” Aty said, sounding as casual as she could given her previous mood.

Zipporah loosened the main cinch of her coveralls and smiled a tired smile. “Aw, well how sweet of you – the both of you.” She added, nodding to Elihue. She removed a padded work glove to accept the gift, sipped the flask’s contents, and sighed. “You know, and I know you know, but you know you could’ve waited in the viewing station for the Surgeon. Or even just met them at the habitat itself.”

Aty nodded. “I prefer to have as much time to talk with essential aid as I can. Besides, it's polite to greet visitors.”

“Mmhm,” Zipporah mumbled over a mouthful of tea, “ever the etiquette stickler.” She looked to Elihue. “Is she going to give you the lead on this one?”

“I… We are equal parties. I am no longer training. We share in the work.”

“Pretty sure other people don’t let you, though,” Zipporah retorted.

“Other people aren’t us,” he said flatly.

Aty placed a hand on Elihue’s shoulder. “Zipporah makes a point though. Don’t take it as a slight. She just wants you to succeed. Be assertive this time around. I’ll take a backseat.”

Elihue chewed at an invisible thought before nodding in agreement. Zipporah winked over the flask at Aty with a smirk before returning to her duties.

A few moments passed before the vessel – a scarab-like ship – opened its exit ramp and the expected visitors emerged. The Surgeon was short and stocky when set against Aty, though many were next to her spaceborn stature. The Surgeon also wore spectacles over a ruddy face, which surprised Aty at first, though she supposed it was not the hardest line against Purists she had seen. The Surgeon was attended by two automaton of varying design: one obviously being a surgical assistant, a cylinder sliding along with a litany of instruments, limbs, and devices hidden beneath an opaque, padded exterior. Beside that walked an android variant, carrying a pair of bags which she could only assume held more of the Surgeon’s equipment and belongings.

“You are the conservationists?” They asked, adjusting their round lenses as they approached.

“We are.” Elihue responded quickly, to Aty’s relief. “I am Conservator Elihue Bolkvadze and this is Conservator Aty Acosta. We welcome you to The Valley.”

“Welcomed.” The Surgeon said curtly. “I am Saihn of no particular family. In which direction may we go to resolve the ailment of the Purist Simulacrum?”

“Ah…” Elihue stuttered, taken aback. Aty was as well. The quieting thrum of her empathetic melancholy for the Dragons now replaced with an indignation at this visitor’s lack of decorum.

The impropriety of their language. To call victims Simulacrum.

“The Dragons are residing within their habitat.” She stated, emphasizing the name of the creatures as gently as she could. “If you will follow us, Conservator Elihue and I will be happy to show you to them.”

Saihn pursed their lips and stood there for a beat before cocking their head.

“Lead the way then, kind conservationists.”