Ocean

**May I speak with you?**
     From his position at the rear of the conference chamber Vixandron glanced over his shoulder: Jezindra stood behind him, demeanour courteous but determined. The elder Fohmatraan inclined his head, resigned. He'd been expecting this.
     **Darkness... Of course. Do you wish to retire to the 'viro?**
     Jezindra's gaze swept the hall: it was almost deserted.
     **Unless you have any objection, here will suffice**
     Vixandron nodded, one lean hand indicating the form-fitting seat beside him, and the younger Fohmatraan settled himself comfortably at the elder's side. For a moment there was silence, then Jezindra turned to his companion.
     **What did you do?**
     Vixandron hesitated for a moment, then sighed silently, flecks of silver-blue flickering deep in his rich blue eyes.
     **Simply... completed what you had started**
     Jezindra shook his head.
     **There is more to it than that, Ocean. Far more**
     And indeed there was, but Vixandron was very reluctant to speak of it...

She shone, his bondmate, in Fohmatraa's muted light – a brilliant haze of bright gold, her skin almost the same colour as her mane and glowing eyes. Shalanra, the one who completed him. He closed his eyes as she swept strong, knowing fingers across his body.
     **My Ocean...**
     He could not envisage life without her. He pulled her close, holding her tightly as her claws sank into the flesh of his shoulders, her body shuddering in time with his.
     **Sunstream**
     **Yours**
     Minds entwined in a coalescence of blue and gold, alien midnight and midday, sun and sky and sea blending together into the colours of joy, they drifted together, private, merged and without limits, for an endless time. It was Shalanra, finally, who pulled back a little, gazing into her bondmate's fathomless eyes.
     **I will miss this – miss home**
     He stroked her face.
     **We can return any time we wish. The Collective cannot hold us**
     She smiled and nestled against him, her head on his shoulder.
     **I know. It will take a little time to accustom ourselves, though**
     **It will be... exciting**
     **I believe it**
     He sighed and shifted, pulling them both upright in the water.
     **We had best make our way back. They will be waiting**

The Caelixiin Prime Council had been delighted to hear that two more Fohmatraans wished to leave the homeworld for C'Prime and posts in the Collective. Exactly what posts, the bondmates didn't yet know, but undoubtedly they'd be offered several different options once they reached Caelix Prime. Fohmatraans were still rare outside their home planet, and treated with enormous respect and near-reverence. They'd be able to take their pick, choose what would be the most appropriate – and the most rewarding – work available. And if there was nothing immediately suitable, no doubt a post would be created for them...
     Almost as soon as they were on their way Shalanra had decided what she wanted to do. She found 'skimmer life exciting, exhilarating, the very idea of travelling the void stimulating – far more so than being planet-bound, no matter how interesting the world. This pleased Vondramentistril, her administrator, who called a meeting of the Prime Council to discuss her inclusion in the crew of the first of the big exploratory 'skimmers, the Ssi'ah, at that time in development in orbit around Mazc. She would make an excellent communicator/interpreter.
     Vixandron's inclination was nothing like as clear-cut. The idea of permanently travelling wasn't appealing to him: he would much prefer to remain on one world. But that would mean separation from his bondmate, and that he didn't want at all. He'd finally opted to remain with Shalanra, assisting with interpretation and communication as required, and acting as one half of the 'pathic communicators, staying on the 'skimmer while his bondmate went planetside with the exploration team.
     It was in the aftermath of one of these missions that he discovered a hitherto unexpected ability. Although it would perhaps be more accurate to call it a corollary to the not-infrequent Fohmatraan healing ability. It was known that on occasion Fohmatraans were able to help others recover from injury – mostly the mental aspects, admittedly, easing pain, lessening shock, building strength and assisting the restoration of activity within the brain – but Vixandron had evinced no more than an average capacity in that sphere, until the day the exploratory team had been attacked by some particularly large and unpleasant fauna. Most of them escaped unscathed, largely due to the actions of their Plarithdi guard – but in the process one of the big guards had been slashed across the spine, leaving him paralysed. At least, that was what they thought had happened. The Ssi'ah's medical facility was of the highest calibre, and the gross physiological damage was repaired within 'skimmer hours – but Gront remained paralysed, unable to move anything below his uppermost arms. And despite increasingly frantic tests, the medical team couldn't discover how to restore correct functioning.
     Plarithdi aren't telepathic, so when Kiran quietly asked Vixandron if he could help, he'd replied in the negative. But the Shaedan biotech was desperate, he could see that, so, reluctantly and warning that it wouldn't work, he'd seated himself at the suffering Plarith's head and laid a cool hand gently against his face.
     ... deeper... 'feeling' his way into the alien mind, ignoring for the moment Gront's panic – what use was a warrior who couldn't move? – brushing lightly then more firmly over the deeply-buried locomotive part of the Plarith's brain...
     He shouldn't be able to do this. Shouldn't be able to see these structures, pinpoint the precise locations of the damaged glia – how had the creature affected those? In common with almost everything in the Plarithdi physiology they were exceptionally robust and protected by the cells around them – and... tweak them, repair them, restore them to their correct function...
     He'd pulled back slowly, blinking at the startled faces of the biotechs then down at Gront, who was flexing each limb in turn, his expression one of both relief and annoyance. The relief Vixandron could understand – but anger?
     A wave of dizziness had swept over him before he could speak: Shalanra caught him as he slid off the seat.
     **Pool, chesa. We can all discuss this later...**

Vixandron had slept for ten whole hours. On waking, he and his bondmate were called to the medical centre. Kiran had pushed him down into a seat by a diagnostic monitor and planted herself before him, her whole demeanour unprofessionally restless and eager, while the rest of the biotechs hovered nearby to listen.
     "What did you do?"
     He inclined his head.
     "There was damage, inside. I repaired it."
     "Well yes, we gathered that! I need to know how you repaired it."
     How does one express the inexpressible – especially to a non-path? Vixandron shook his head then glanced at Shalanra, who stroked his mane. He turned back to Kiran.
     "I don't know how to describe it. I could see what was wrong, and I simply... fixed it."
     Kiran looked ready to scream with frustration, but took several deep breaths and calmed herself. She smiled.
     "Well, whatever you did – thank you. Gront is now fully recovered."
     "I am glad."
     "He will be too – once he gets over his mind being 'invaded', as he put it!"
     Ah. So that was what the Plarith's anger was all about. An interesting reaction. But Kiran was still speaking. She waved a hand at her colleagues.
     "We'll be examining him closely, of course, to see if we can find out exactly what you did, and find a way to replicate it. However, we've also discussed the matter, and we'd like to invite you to spend time here, in biocom, when you aren't engaged in anything else. We'd like to run some tests, if you'll allow it – but we'd also welcome your help in a medical sense, as biotech assistant. If you can help a Plarith, we think you might be able to help other sentients. You may not have realised it, but physical and emotional stress can be a problem on occasion on these long missions. If you were able to ease it, the crew would be able to operate more efficiently."
     And they'd be able to keep an eye on him, see what conclusions they could draw: not much was known about Fohmatraans, and he knew that the biotechs were itching to discover more about his species.
     Shalanra slid long arms around his shoulders.
     **I think it would be a good idea. It would certainly be very useful to the crew. And you have been concerned that you have not been as useful a crew member as you'd like**
     Which was true. And... the notion had its own merit. And he was curious. Being in the Plarith's brain, now he came to consider it, had been quite fascinating. He wondered if he could do the same with the Norandi. And the Shaedans. And the other non-path sentients on the great 'skimmer...
     He nodded, and Kiran grinned widely.
     "We'll contact the Collective right away, have your new subsidiary post noted. And may I be the first to welcome you to biocom!"

It proved very satisfying, this additional duty. Vixandron had found that yes, he was able to access other sentients, soothe and calm the stressed or worried, reassure the concerned, and on occasion heal more serious neural or cerebral conditions.
Then came the time he'd failed...

The warm 'pathic murmur between them had ceased abruptly, so abruptly he'd dropped the monitor he'd been holding. Genphyll grabbed him as he swayed, vision whitening.
     **Sunstream?**
     There was no answer, only a suddenly intensifying *pain*, suddenly cut off. He wrapped shaking hands around his head, only distantly aware of the biotech helping him to a seat, of the sudden panicked stir around him.
     **... where are you... what has happened...**
     There was no answer. Long moments later Gront rushed into the biocom, the golden Fohmatraan held in his arms. Struggling upright, Vixandron stared in absolute horror as his bondmate was laid on a diagnostic couch, Kiran moving a full-body monitor into position over her limp form.
     "What...?"
     Gront had collapsed, bleeding heavily, onto an adjoining couch and was being examined by another biotech. His voice grated, rough with grief.
     "Attacked. Everyone else dead..."
     Vixandron planted himself immovably at his bondmate's head, feeling faint as he took in the extent of her injuries. Her head was misshapen, crushed in at one side, the eye hanging loose from its socket. He gently laid shaking hands across her uninjured temple and the side of her neck, eyes closing as he sank into her mind.
     ... memories.. bright memories of days spent in soft shallow waters, content with each other... a flare of regret that they would never happen again...
     **NO! You are NOT to leave me**
     ... sadness... grief... loneliness... love...
     Grimly, Vixandron called on all his abilities, desperately trying to halt the slow waning of her life, to repair neurons and glia that died faster than he could heal them.
     **... do not follow me...**
     **... what?**
     A slightly stronger goldenness.
     **My Ocean... you must not follow me... you must live for me...**
     **I... I cannot...**
     **Yes you can. You must. It's the last thing I ask of you. Don't deny me this**
     His eyes flashed open, to see her undamaged eye gazing at him, shimmering under the sterile lights.
     **Promise me, chesa**
     He was suffocating, helplessness and utter grief for the now-inevitable dragging him down in her wake. But she had never asked him to promise anything before.
     **Promise me**
     **I promise...**
     **... thank... you...**
     Blind with anguish he clutched her mane, staring sightlessly down until Kiran laid a hand on his arm, pulling gently.
     "I'm so sorry, sheya."
     He stared at her, not recognising her for a moment – then his gaze flicked quickly back to his bondmate as he felt her mane growing insubstantial under his fingers... moments later she was gone, leaving a diagnostic couch empty of everything except her coverall and a vast, aching grief within him.

He didn't remember getting back to the 'viro – he later assumed that one of the biotechs must have led him there – but it was five days before he came back to himself, tried to make sense of his loss and wonder how he was going to survive without her. Apart from delivering meals to him – meals which he couldn't eat – the biotechs left him alone until he felt able to rejoin them.
He wanted to die – to make his way to her, join her in the web around their homeworld. But he'd made a promise...

**Ocean?**
Vixandron started out of reverie to find Jezindra regarding him compassionately. The chialint had respected his privacy while he'd been remembering, and he nodded his thanks.

**You had healed the basics, corrected Farreach's perfectly-understandable mistakes. All I did was... tweak your repairs. It was a simple task**
     Jezindra's eyes were huge.
     **And one which has made all the difference to Snowfire!** He eyed the elder Fohmatraan for a moment. **I would like to learn the procedure. If it can be taught**
     Vixandron regarded him steadily, then inclined his head.
     **I have never tried. But I am willing to make the attempt**
     Jezindra sighed and relaxed.
     **Thank you**
     **Thank me if it works, Darkness. I can make no guarantees**
     **I know**
     Vixandron shifted slightly, glancing at the sentients filing out of the chamber.
     ** I will meet you in Virbant**
     Nodding, Jezindra rose to his feet.
     **I will look forward to it**
     Vixandron watched him leave. Whether the ability could be taught or not, he didn't know, but Jezindra was willing and his unusual talent may be helpful. But first he wanted – needed – to return to Fohmatraa. To *speak* to that-which-had-been his bondmate, to bask in her *presence*, just for a little while. She would, he knew, be delighted that he was engaging with life again.
     She was always there, anytime he needed her.
     She always would be.