09:13 23/05/2587 –(8734/691/40/14)

The Black Cliffs were indeed a sight to behold, three hundred and fifty metres tall. One of the original wonders of this world, here long before the first bacteria were introduced during Minagerad’s terraforming. Gabriel knew this as a massive photo of the cliffs over one hundred metres long taken five thousand years ago, showing them behind sterile purple seas under dull red skies.

Now the cliffs were covered in greenery, flying animals soared overhead, and thousands of tourists walked close to the edge, prevented from falling through by a large fence. Close was a subjective term, though; Gabriel standing one metre from the edge was being, in Pista’s words, “a big big baby boy.”

“Where’d your bag of sweets go?” Gabriel asked, looking at Pista’s empty hands. She had pestered him and Nish for the past hour for sweets and had barely had them fifteen minutes. Gabriel swore if Pista dropped them over the cliff.

“I gave them to that little boy who did not have any,” Pista explained, pointing to a boy twice the size of Pista. “Sharing is caring,” Pista added.

Gabriel smiled, hugged her and said, “you’re a good girl Pista.” She trilled and hugged Gabriel right back.

Nish watched all this and did not understand what the matter with Gabriel was. Ever since that little mistake, he had been distant, just as he had been when they first met. He was just as polite as ever, maybe a little too much; after getting a glimpse of the real man, it felt wooden.

Was he still feeling bad about what he had done? Sure she had been surprised at the moment, but she was not bothered by it. Nish had asked him about it earlier, and he had assured her that nothing was wrong and that he was just as over it as she was.

Wanting to test this again, Nish approached him and asked, “you enjoying yourselves.”

“Yeah, I wanna fly,” Pista explained for the ninth time.

“Quite enjoyable,” Gabriel replied flatly.

Nish was beginning to worry that she had done something. She had not been able to find anything during an internet search, but maybe it was a cultural thing peculiar to that island he lived on.

She felt the urge to ask him once more if anything was wrong, but she already knew the answer Gabriel would give. While she did not understand what, Nish was certain she was at the centre of it, as his attitude to Pista remained unchanged.

***

Pista was right Gabriel needed to stop acting like such a baby. So maybe, possibly, he had a little bit of a crush, so what? It was perfectly natural, that whole proximity thing someone at work had mentioned once.

It did not mean anything, just hormones; Nish was the first woman he had met that he found enjoyable to be around. In a week or so, everything would settle down.

Gabriel cleared his throat and asked Nish, “Do Tufanda ever make their home on sea cliffs?”

Nish was taken aback, he had hardly said a word to her all morning, and now here he was, back to normal, as though nothing had happened. She was beginning to wish Erilur was still here; she would have had an explanation for this.

“Yeah, there are a fair few seaside towns and cities, though there’s no way I’m living in one,” Nish explained, running her antenna through her fingers.

Gabriel nodded and then realised that natural cliffs must be in short supply, considering there were billions of Tufanda on Yursu.

“What about cities and towns that aren’t near natural high points? What are they like?” he asked.

“Most of them are modelled after cliffs; generally, the best homes are in the middle, not too high and not at the bottom,” Nish explained, relaxing now that Gabriel was slowly returning to his old self.

***

Sitting on a nearby bench, Gabriel took the time to people-watch and got a drink. The cliffs were not quite as blatant with their tourism facilities as Hab Ifru was. They were still there, just hidden under mounds of vegetation-covered soil.

Not a bad idea, in Gabriel’s opinion, helped maintain the illusion.

“Excuse me,” someone asked. Gabriel looked to his right to see a Wokul, their face just a few centimetres from his.

“Yes,” replied Gabriel, trying to keep himself under control. Once again, the unconscious sense of revulsion came, and Gabriel was sick of it. This was a problem he wanted solved.

“You’re Gabriel Ratlu, yes?” The Wokul asked.

“Yes,” Gabriel confirmed, this time forcing himself to look them in the eye.

“Could I get a photo with you, please?” The Wokul asked, holding up a rather expensive camera.

Gabriel went quiet for long enough that everyone began wondering what he would say.

“Okay,” Gabriel replied quietly, more to his surprise than anyone else.

***

On the cliff face, a Puropop was dutifully chipping away at the rock. Rather unremarkable compared to many of its neighbours, easily fitting in a human palm, shaped much like an adult cicada, only with a functioning mouth and far more able to defend itself. The little alien was one of the hardiest animals on the planet.

Native to Teloprip prime, a class 10 (H), the little insectoid continued the task of slowly scrapping away the stone.

Its muscular forearms and sharp barbs allowed it to gouge the rock. Though the animal could not claim all the credit, it was taking advantage of a naturally occurring crack; the Puropop merely enlarged it.

The Puropop had reached sexual maturity this season, and this was its first burrow. As it was smaller than many of the other males, it could not take advantage of the premade burrow nor challenge another male for theirs, hence why it was spending so much time and effort on making its own.

The burrow would need to be big enough to accommodate the larger female he was hoping to whoo, but small enough that she felt secure enough to lay her eggs. Not an easy task considering the medium and the Puropop lack of experience, but he still went about it with all the dedication of a master craftsperson.

Not that the Puropop understood any of this, it had never questioned why it did anything and never would; it did not have the mental acuity to do it. It, like all animals, merely acted, responded to genetic instinct and the memories it had acquired through its life.

There was something in this half-finished burrow, a strange rock that the Puropop could not shift, no matter how hard it tried. Instinct drove it on, however, and he worked his way around the obstruction.

However, all his effort would be in vain, even if what was occurring above was not about to destroy all his hard work. No female would ever nest in such a burrow that was so asymmetrical; it was not unusual for a young male to fail in finding a mate.

The Puropop ignored it, though, driven on by his instincts. The things above were making noise, but they were no threat to it; sometimes, food appeared when they were around.

***

Gabriel’s willingness to be photographed had set off a bit of a feeding frenzy. While he tried to be understanding, the number of requests began to wear his patience and aggravate his temper.

He had gotten away by saying he needed to do some human things. A partial lie, this was more of a Gabriel thing, but no doubt other humans would act the same way; there were over eleven billion of them. He grabbed onto the railing and started to rock it back and forth.

Glancing behind, he could still see several people staring at him; if it had just been Nish and Pista, he would not care, but all those eyes burning into him sent horrible shivers down his spine.

He was in no fit state to do this; what had ever possessed him to agree to that damn photo? He rocked the railing harder and harder, causing it to shake. A hissing croak came from below, and a young Puropop took the air.

Gabriel leaned over the edge to see where it had come from, desperate for anything to take his mind off all those people.

Then a loud cracking sound grabbed everyone’s attention, and Gabriel found himself falling over the edge along with the railing whose foundation had been compromised by that industrious little Puropop.

Gabriel's reflexes reacted, and he grasped hold of the railing, now only held in place by a single foundation. His fall was halted, but the sudden cessation of movement caused him to tear one of his shoulder muscles, and another reflex made Gabriel let go.

One last scream and Gabriel was gone.

***

Nish’s response was immediate. Before Gabriel had vanished from view, she was already running towards the cliff edge. Without a moment's hesitation, she leapt and fell after Gabriel.

Streamlined into a dive, she could quickly catch the clumsily tumbling Gabriel. Her brain also promptly calculated the time until they both reached the bottom. It was nothing logical, no mathematic equations; all Nish knew was that it would be impossibly close.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Grabbing hold of Gabriel as tightly as she could, Nish unfurled her wings to their full glory. Six metres from wingtip to wingtip. Beating them as hard as she could, they began to slow.

Not by enough though; this was going to be bad.

***

Gabriel hit the sand with a muted thud and a crunch. He found it difficult to think; Gabriel was in shock over what had just happened. The fall had made him feel utterly helpless because he had been utterly helpless, a state he had not been in since he was a boy.

If Nish hadn’t.

“Nsh,” Gabriel slurred, looking down at the woman who had saved his life.

“Nish?” Gabriel repeated, this time with a little more control over his tongue.

She gave back a half-hearted groan before saying, "arm", and falling unconscious.

Gabriel looked up, his attention grabbed by movement in his peripheral vision, and saw Pista bounding down the shear cliff face, leaping from ledge to ledge, with the sure footedness a mountain goat would be jealous of.

With one final leap, she landed safely, if a little clumsily, next to them.

“Mommy, Gabriel, Mummy, Gabriel, Mommumy, Gabriel,” Pista cried, barely holding the buzzing at bay.

Gabriel tried to get control of his breathing. “Pista.. need… be brave,” Gabriel explained between gasps.

Pista looked at him; her face was the same inscrutable mask it had always been. Gabriel could pick up the signs, though, the drooping arms, the low antennae, the flat wings; she was terrified. With good cause.

“Get my… P.D.A.,” Gabriel explained, tapping his side pocket. “Call... Ambulance,” he added.

Pista clicked and took the P.D.A. from his pocket, her hands shaking wildly.

She knew what to do, Nish had taught her how to call an ambulance, and the teachers at school had done so as well.

Holding the device up to her head, she waited for the ringing to end.

“Hello, what emergency services do you require,” a voice said to Pista.

“AMBULANCE,” Pista screamed into the receiver.

The operator wasted no time; their job was simply to direct people, not deal with them.

“Ambulance service,” a new voice said.

“I need an ambulance, now,” Pista said, her response automatic, drilled into her by all those safety seminars.

“What happened?” the director asked, already in contact with the paramedics. The director already had the general location taken from the device used to contact them, but she needed specifics and the ambulance needed to be prepped based on species.

As she waited for the caller’s response, she realised they were at the Black Cliffs, so she requested the air ambulance instead.

“Mummy and Gabreel fell really far, and mummy couldn’t fly and and,” Pista answered, the panic set in and the practice petering out. She had been told to tell the ambulance people lots of important information, species, age, exact location, and injuries, but that was a more challenging ask from a fourteen-year-old than just saying a five-word sentence.

Realising who she was dealing with, the director changed her tone and asked, “Is there a grown-up there?”

“Mummy and Gabriel are hurt,” Pista repeated, trying her hardest not to collapse into a puddle, trying her hardest to be just like Gabriel.

“Ok, where are you exactly?” The director asked, keeping her voice as calm as possible.

“At the Black Cliffs,” Pista explained.

“Look, sweetie, I need you to tell me exactly where you are so the ambulance doesn’t waste time looking for you,” The director said, hoping the child would understand.

Pista went quiet, trying to think, “we were at a sweet shop a little while ago; it had a big animal on the sign.

Her V.I. quickly searched and found just one match. “Is the sun to the left or the right?” asked the director.

“Right,” Pista replied.

“Good, now what are mummy and Gabriel?” The director inquired, with that last piece of information, the air ambulance could be sent and be there in under ten minutes.

“Mummy’s a Tufanda, and Gabriel’s a human,” Pista said, grateful for an easy answer.

“That Gabriel, she was sending an ambulance for that Gabriel,” The director thought as she saw the ambulance take off.

“The ambulance is in the way. What’s your name?” The director asked.

“Pista,” she replied with a buzz.

“Ok, Pista, I need you to look at mummy and Gabriel and tell me if they are awake,” the director said, keeping her words as simple as possible.

“Gabriel’s awake, I think; mummy isn’t,” Pista replied; it was hard to tell with Gabriel, he was still moving, but he was not saying anything. She looked at Nish again, and Pista realised what she had just said; her mommy wasn't moving, and she nearly broke.

He had not been lying idle; Gabriel had been attempting to calm himself. Difficult, but watching Pista try so hard gave him confidence. Taking one last breath, Gabriel held out his hand, still shaking, and told Pista, “you can hand me over now.”

14:28 25/05/2587 –(8734/694/03/14)

Gabriel flexed his toes; it still hurt, but at least he could feel something; after his little tumble, part of him had been terrified that he would be paralyzed from the waist down. All in all, he had gotten off relatively easy; Nish had just enough control during the drop to lead them away from the rocks and onto the soft sand.

Nish had lost an arm, one of her larger ones, crushed under Gabriel's bulk when they hit the beach. The surgeons had consulted with her about whether she wanted a cybernetic or cloned replacement.

The cybernetic arm could be attached immediately and would be superior in function, but never look one hundred per cent natural and would need regular maintenance.

On the other hand, no pun intended; the cloned limb would be indistinguishable, apart from a faint scar where it had been attached and the absence of accumulated damage. It would also have a near-zero chance of rejection, being genetically identical to Nish.

It would need time to grow, so she would be down to three arms in the interim.

In contrast, Gabriel had gotten away with just twelve broken bones, his right ankle twisted 180 degrees and whiplash.

Painful, but with modern medicine and physiotherapy, he would be on his feet with only mild discomfort by the end of the week.

Nish was in another ward to Gabriel for obvious reasons, though he had been able to visit her twice. Pista was sleeping on a small rack provided for her by the hospital; when there was no risk of infection and no relatives were available, children were allowed to stay with their parents.

She would make her decision today. From what Nish had told him, she was leaning towards the cybernetics, and if she held, he wanted to talk before she went under the knife.

Gabriel pulled out his wheelchair from its cubbyhole with a considerable but manageable amount of pain.

As he was rolling out of his room, he saw Bob walking toward him. Despite the familiar lack of a face, they were not in Foruthio Hospital, which was on another continent. Bob had been flown in specially to treat Gabriel, as he was one of the most qualified people to do so, having treated exactly three humans while on Minagerad.

“Just the man I wanted to see,” Bob said, doing his awkward shuffle. From what Gabriel had read, Holuterc were far more graceful in the water.

Bob paused, looked at Gabriel and said, “I thought I told you to use the crutches. You need to get your muscles working if you want a speedy recovery.”

“I've never been in a wheelchair before; just let me have this,” Gabriel replied, gesturing vaguely with his hand.

Bob looked at the nurses’ station and gestured for their attention. “When Gabriel gets back from wherever he’s going, take it off him; there are other more needy people in the hospital,” Bob explained, and the duty nurse said he would do so.

“You said you wanted to see me,” Gabriel said, noting that the conversation seemed to have drifted a bit.

Bob got down to Gabriel’s level, though rather than bend over or kneel, he compressed his entire trunk; it was quite the sight. Bob said, “Yes, I need to see you for two reasons; firstly, we’ve got your x-rays back, your ankle’s doing well; another couple of days, and you can go.”

“That’s good news,” Gabriel said, “and the other.”

“You seem to be rather accident-prone, Gabriel. I’ve had a conversation with some other doctors, and we feel it might be more cost-effective for you to have a muscle and tendon strengthening to complement your bones,” Bob explained, returning to his full height.

“A complete muscular system enhancement, I’m not made of money,” Gabriel replied; he had only gotten the skeletal one because the health service had footed the bill; it would cost hundreds of thousands at least.

“Oh no, the Minagerad health service will foot the bill, won’t cost you a Shiff,” Bob clarified.

That made the whole procedure far more appealing. “What exactly can I expect?” Gabriel asked.

“Well, you’ll be a bit stronger, but this isn’t military grade; it’s primarily focused on toughness, keeping your muscles where they are supposed to and keep them from tearing,” Bob explained.

“Your muscles will atrophy at a slower rate, but conversely, you’ll find it harder to put on muscle mass,” he added.

“Is it just injections like my bones were?” asked Gabriel, recalling his last improvement procedure. It involved ten trips to the hospital for a check-up to see that the genetic modification was working correctly and then injecting the booster.

By the end, his genetic code had been permanently altered, though his gametes remained unchanged. His body now produced an organic ceramic-like material, synthesised from the food he ate, reinforcing his bones.

“Yes, five injections and your muscles will be protected by an organic sheath, allowing your skeletal muscle to take more punishment before breaking,” Bob answered. “Though it will take several months before your body actually finishes doing the work.”

Gabriel nodded; he knew well how long it took for genetic modifications to take effect.

“Anything else?” Gabriel asked, while internally he thought about booking a hotel until Nish was discharged; if she went for the cybernetic option, she would probably be released in the next seven days.

“There is something, but it can wait,” Bob replied.

***

“Nish the cyborg, ehh,” Gabriel said after Nish confirmed that the mechanical option was the one for her.

“It has a nice ring to it,” Nish agreed, handing her P.D.A. to Gabriel; he saw a V.I. mock-up of what Nish would look like with her new arm.

“No synth skin or synth exoskeleton in your case?” Gabriel noted, looking at the bare metal.

“I decided against it. I know someone with a prosthesis, and she won't stop complaining about how much the skin annoys them; it won’t stay in place, gets damaged easily and is costly to replace,” Nish explained, taking her device back.

“Guess I can kiss the Hofhoris festival goodbye,” Nish mumbled, staring at the image.

“What’s that?” inquired Gabriel.

Nish just realised she had said that part out loud, looked down, and talking into her chest, said, “it’s the annual m…t.ng festival.”

“Sorry?” Gabriel asked innocently.

“It’s the Tufanda mating festival,” Nish replied, deciding it was better to swallow the poison and get it over with.

“Eww,” Pista said, wretching. Her understanding of what happened there was limited, mostly stroking sides and grooming wings, which was disgusting grown-up stuff.

“Why would your arm matter?” asked Gabriel, which seemed highly odd to him.

“During…. That time of year, the men are hopped up on so many hormones that all they really care about is looks,” Nish explained. “Most of them anyway; some will have esoteric fetishes.”

“Wait, so do you guys just, you know, in a big pile or something,” Gabriel wondered out loud.

“Oh, sacred tears, no, we do that in private,” Nish retorted, slightly offended that Gabriel assumed she was that kind of woman.

“Sorry,” Gabriel said, looking at the floor, and Nish realised he had meant nothing by it. “I’ll look after Pista while you're having your op,” he added, hoping that would make up for what he had just said.

“Can we go to the park?” asked Pista, excited.

“No, we can’t go to the park,” Gabriel replied, pointing to his bum leg.

“I’m bored in here,” Pista complained, lying on the foot of Nish’s bed.

“We know you are,” Nish said.

Gabriel tapped his legs and recalled that he had been meaning to say something, the image of cyborg Nish had pushed it from his mind. He said, “when we’re out and feeling better, I have something I need to tell you two."

***

Gabriel had decided to take Pista to the hospital garden; very impressive if Gabriel said so himself. The gardeners here clearly knew what they were doing; it was big, the size of five football pitches. Several patients, hospital personnel and visitors wandered about the place, admired the ambience, and sat on the many benches so the sights and sounds could be taken in.

Pista had chosen to sit next to a large fountain and play with the water. She was putting on a brave face, but Gabriel knew she was worried about her mother. As both he and Nish were currently injured, she had taken it upon herself to be the adult. As close to adult as she could get, mind you.

“Find anything good?” Gabriel asked, peering through the rough water.

“There’s a stone,” Pista pointed out.

“Very nice,” Gabriel replied; he had not bothered actually to look for it.

“Your mum’s going to be fine,” Gabriel said, putting his arm around her shoulder.

“I know,” Pista replied, though her tone betrayed her worry.

“Is mummy upset that she can’t go to the Yukky festival anymore?” Pista asked, looking up at Gabriel.

“A little; why… did she go often?” asked Gabriel.

“Every year, I go stay with Granma or Granpa, and we bake or paint pictures or visit hapa,” Pista explained.

“Nish knew what she wanted, and she got it,” Gabriel thought with a smile on his face.

Gabriel concluded what Pista needed was a distraction, so he said, "tell me about your grandparents." Something he quickly came to regret as Pista's affection for them was only slightly less than for her mother.

When Pista was finally done, Nish had left the theatre; the operation had gone swimmingly.