It took a moment for Paz to respond. When he spoke, it was mechanical and emotionless. “It looks like the intergalactic space-faring symbol for mental health and psychological services. I saw it during my diplomatic training.”
Something surged within me. I grabbed Paz’s shoulders. “Yes!” I cried. “He said he was a doctor of the mind.”
Paz was pensive. He looked like he wanted to say something, but held it back.
“So, regardless of his species, Unit 44 was a psychologist,” he said instead. “Were you two close?”
The old pain in my chest flared. “Yes. When he and Assistant 23 arrived at our village, I was ecstatic. Even as a youngling, I had difficulty making friends, but Unit 44 was so eager and kind. He wanted to know everything about Maeleons, and in return, he taught me many things.”
I expected Paz to smile at my story. Instead, there was a wary neutrality on his face that I didn’t understand. But he knew where my tale ended up—in ruins—so why should he smile? I didn’t press him.
“He was researching Maeleon culture,” Paz suggested. “Makes sense. Nobody in my crew knew of this planet or your people, and it never came up once in all my years of training. Wherever those two were from, they must not have known anything about Eukaria, either.”
I shrugged. The details were unimportant to me. All I knew was what happened next.
“Unit 44 was very interested in our culture,” I agreed. “He thought it was strange that we Maeleons are fanged, yet don’t act carnivorous. He was the one who taught me to eat meat.” I grinned at the memory. “I was great at hunting. Unit 44 was proud of me.”
Paz tensed.
“But the Maeleons in my village didn’t like that,” I continued. “They started looking at me strangely. Some tried to change my mind. Especially Haz’rull and Arr’tow. But I didn’t care about what they thought.” My tail wrapped around my legs. “As long as I had Unit 44, I was happy.”
Paz nodded slowly, waiting for me to continue. He still wore that strange, almost pained expression.
“One day, Unit 44 asked what our village taboos were,” I said. “It was his most important research. He said he’d be deeply grateful if I helped him. I told him everything. I’ll never forget his excitement when he heard about the arson taboo. He taught me it was rare in most cultures, and he’d only ever heard of it being morally wrong on Eukaria.”
Paz’s face paled. “Kur’tok, that’s just not true.”
“What?” I asked, almost like he hadn’t spoken.
He gripped my arm tighter. “Arson is wrong inmostcultures. In fact, I’d say in every culture.”
I stared at him, unseeing. His words felt misaligned with my world.
“That’s not what Unit 44 said,” I stated.
“He lied to you.”
I resisted the urge to wrench my arm out of his grip. “He did not!” I roared.
Paz stared at me unflinchingly. His eyes were harder than I’d ever seen them, twin shards piercing my soul.
My heart pounded sickeningly in my chest.
“He did not lie,” I growled.
“He lied straight to your face,” Paz insisted. Before I could argue, he cut me off. “What did he tell you to do?”
My pulse felt thick, my blood cold. The world suddenly shifted on its axis. I stared at the grass beneath my feet, still green and untouched.
“I would be an amazing asset to his research,” I repeated, never forgetting his words, “if I performed an experiment. He wanted to test his theory: communal social response to taboo committed by an immature specimen.”
Paz’s voice came out in a strained whisper. “Kur’tok...”
“I did the worst Maeleon taboo. I set it all ablaze.” The words felt cold and empty. “Just for him.”
Paz suddenly blurted out, “He used you!”
Growling, I gnashed my teeth. “You sound just likethem.”
