Gela could sense what Sakti was preparing to say, but he was in no hurry. He waited for the other to be ready before speaking.
In terms of patience, the white male was far superior to any of the females around him. Since the day he cracked his shell, the thing he had done most was wait.
He had waited for his brothers to finish devouring exotic beasts before huddling in a small corner to snatch a few quick bites. He had waited for the tribe that left and never returned, wondering when they might come back for him. He had waited for unbearable pain to slowly pass, praying that the next bout would arrive a little later.
But all of that was in the past.
Now, waiting had clearly become a joyful thing—like waiting for his mate to return to the nest, where Sakti would immediately entwine tails with him, pull him into an embrace, and praise his latest work.
The pitch-black Core-seed rolled twice in the abrasive salts, scrubbing every inch of the scales on his body clean before approaching their little nest. Unlike before, Sakti did not enter the nest immediately. He knelt on one knee, took the male’s outstretched hand, and stayed there quietly pressed against him for a while.
“Did something happen? Perhaps you could tell me about it?” Gela asked softly, holding Sakti’s hand and trying to pull the male toward him.
Sakti hesitated for a moment but eventually lay down in the nest, pulling his mate—whose slender, scaled tail was swaying happily back and forth—into his arms.
“The Broad-wings and the Pedipalps can’t hold out much longer,” he began. As the one in control of the Information Nest, Gela would eventually know this more clearly than he did, but Gela likely hadn't had time to check the communications received that morning. “Other Core-gene tribes have begun to seek cooperation with us.”
“That’s a very good thing,” the male’s tail flicked to and fro in front of his mate. The small white tail-hook was curled upward, looking very tempting to squeeze. “Do you not want to cooperate with the other tribes?”
Sakti did not hesitate to take it into his hand. He tried his best to keep his tone gentle and steady as he meticulously stroked the nimble, restless tip of the tail.
“The ones who want to cooperate are the Mandible species and the Flash-patterns.”
The happily twitching slender tail froze. Gela looked up at him, a hint of bewilderment in his pale eyes.
“Oh.” Slowly emitting a single syllable, the male unconsciously gripped Sakti’s palm.
He understood why Sakti wanted to talk to him. The black male was clearly worried about stirring up bad memories and was watching his reaction closely. However, what Gela found incredible was that this topic did not bring the sharp pain he had imagined.
For a long time, he had been trapped in a state of self-negation. Because he was a defective insect, his kin had abandoned him without a second thought; because of that, he had been treated as a toy by the low-and-mid-level worker females on the scavenger ship. All of it stemmed from his worthlessness, and a worthless insect was not deserving of the resources his tribe would need to spend to nurture and protect him.
But the facts told him otherwise.
Sakti had fed him more than enough food, allowing his broken body to successfully complete its second pupation. Sakti had found him the best teacher, who taught him hand-over-hand how to use the Information Nest, and now he could use those same methods to teach other males.
So, he was not as worthless as his kin had claimed.
“I’m fine, you don’t need to worry.” He gave Sakti a quick kiss, and his stalled tail began to wag once more. Compared to the shock of the news, the fact that his mate was so carefully minding his feelings made the male even happier. “Actually, I should have told you about them a long time ago.”
During the era of the Great Mother, the Flash-pattern species were responsible for scouting, sentry duty, and information gathering; they usually possessed excellent mimicry. Most insectoids lacked tear glands and had no capacity for tears at all, but as a gene-defective specimen, Gela could manage it.
To some extent, his ability to learn and imitate came partly from his tribe. It made his expressions closely resemble those of a human, and he could control those minute facial movements very well. Now, Gela felt somewhat grateful to his tribe—at their first meeting, it was by imitating a human’s pitiful expression that he had won a tiny bit of leniency from the black male.
And it was that tiny bit of leniency that had led him toward a completely different future.
“Do you hate your tribe, including your kin who might still be alive?” the Core-seed asked seriously. “Or rather, do you still love them?”
A request for cooperation that would reduce casualties was hard to refuse—he couldn't create an enemy for the Grey-wings out of thin air when it could be avoided. However, the conditions under which they accepted this cooperation were entirely up for negotiation.
Gela thought for a long time, then finally shook his head. His answer was unexpected.
“We rarely have a consciousness of hate or love. Those emotions are far too luxurious.”
Both were advanced, complex emotions. Unlike fear or affection, which were tied to instinct, these upgraded emotions were more intricate and required further refinement to obtain. The delight that burst forth during feeding was joy; the trepidation shown in the face of death and injury was fear—these occurred in accordance with their biological nature.
Love and hate were different. They could exist simultaneously, or they could run in opposite directions. Humans sang praises of love, discussing the dependence and loyalty it brought, its positive significance, and its endless virtues, yet they often ignored that it was equally possessive and exclusive.
As the white male’s reading increased, he gained a brand-new understanding of human contradiction. The religions of the Old Earth believed that love was a spirit endowed with the meaning of patience and sacrifice. But in truth, love was jealousy, it was vainglory; it was the act of instinct driven by desire; it was impatience, it was suspicion, it was a finite sacrifice that withered with time.
The perfect emotion enshrined upon an altar existed only in ideals. Whether insect or human, every living creature would eventually walk into this mortal world and become one of the bustling masses.
“I used to not quite understand what humans meant by love and hope, because I had never touched either.”
“So, I neither love my tribe, nor do I possess the necessary hatred.”
Gela grabbed Sakti’s hand and placed his small tail into his palm, letting him feel his beautiful tail-hook—this was the part he was most proud of after his eclosion.
“I was just... a little sad.”
“Sad that I wasn't good enough, so being left behind was a matter of course, something unavoidable.”
Those pale eyes looked over, wordlessly conveying the sentiment: *Kiss me, I want you to kiss me.*
Sakti did not make him wait long. He kissed his mate’s eyelashes, then pulled the male closer and kissed his scaled tail in turn.
“But I don't think that way anymore.”
Laughing happily, Gela rubbed against Sakti repeatedly, coating him in the scent of his own pheromones. He quite liked the sense of security Sakti provided and tried to drench himself in his mate’s scent through this rubbing. The spicy, rust-like tang intertwined with the clear sweetness, creating a marvelous lingering aftertaste.
“I have already received enough love from you,” the male said proudly.
Whenever he got excited, his little tail would curl up frantically. The Core-seed felt like he was truly going to die from the cuteness. He had searched the entire universe and finally found such a precious treasure to be his mate. It seemed that Fate, in addition to slapping him, would occasionally give him a sweet treat.
“So don't worry,” Gela said to him seriously. “I don't care about them. The tribe or kin are not important; when they chose to leave, we no longer had any relationship.”
“If accepting the cooperation is beneficial to you, then accept it.”
“This is actually a very good thing—with you here, the Flash-patterns with gene defects can also live well, instead of being discarded.”
“You are a very good mate.”
“And a very good tribal leader.”
The male’s words were final.
“Alright, alright, stop praising me.” It was supposed to be an occasion where he comforted the other, but it had turned into Gela praising him. Sakti’s tail couldn't help but coil around the other’s scaled tail, entwining into an inseparable, intimate state.
“I heard that the name 'Flash-pattern' comes from the special markings they reveal in their xenomorphic state?” The Core-seed brought up another topic he was quite curious about. “So your... kind, do they all have them?”
“Basically everyone has them.” Gela’s expression turned subtle for a moment as he admitted, “It’s one of our tribal characteristics.”
He burrowed into Sakti’s embrace and quickly explained, “Actually, I have them too, but because I’m white, the patterns aren't very obvious.”
Sakti’s face slowly filled with doubt. He had... seen Gela, even touched him many times, yet he had never discovered any such characteristics on him.
In the next second, the male took his hand and stuffed it under the fluffy blanket, inside his clothes.
“Do you want to see?” he asked in a small voice, the scales on his tail turning red. “I can show you.”
“...”
Here it was again, this dangerous yet hilarious atmosphere. Sakti’s hand pressed against the white insect’s abdomen, feeling the slender respiratory slits tremble slightly at his touch. The other looked very eager, very suggestive, and at the same time, very adorable.
“Show me.”
This time, the Core-seed didn't follow the usual script at all. He was indeed curious about those so-called patterns—and since he had found this mate through his own strength, why wouldn't he look? In any case, the one who would end up wanting to turn tail and run certainly wouldn't be him.
As expected, Gela began to grow shy. He wriggled under the blanket for a while, accompanied by rustling sounds, as he removed all the fabric covering his body.
The long-unseen second pair of pale eyes quietly emerged. A layer of delicate pearl-white scales spread out, the base of each scale tinged with a faint red.
“Maybe you... you should turn off the lights.” His forelimbs gripped the blanket tightly, refusing to let go, while the male’s small tail flicked back and forth rapidly.
Sakti realized that he and Gela would always produce a "1 plus -1 equals 0" effect. If he took the initiative and pushed a bit harder, the male would subconsciously want to flee; conversely, if Gela suddenly did something wild, Sakti would likely be startled into running out to catch some air. Either way, zero was the constant result.
“If I turn off the lights, what will I see?” Unable to hold back a smile, the Core-seed asked with mock seriousness.
“Turn them off, please,” Gela pleaded again.
This time, Sakti complied with his wish, easily extinguishing all artificial light.
As the blanket was pulled away, slender lines of light stretched out in the darkness. They unfurled along those pure white, soft wings, forming long and beautiful patterns.
Sakti realized that the only remaining light came from the bioluminescent bands of scale-powder on the male’s wings. Unique and rare, they wrapped around the male like botanical vines, like roots encircling a flower bud about to bloom.
It was a beauty that was far too non-human, revealed only in the darkness of the xenomorphic state. That was why he had never discovered this hidden side before.
As a human, he had once stood by a lake in the wilderness, where the stars flowed from the sky into the water, forming a pool within a pool.
“Is it... strange?” the male asked bashfully, his scaled tail sweeping uneasily. Because of the xenomorphosis, the slender feelers at his chest poked out slightly, wanting to entwine and linger around his mate’s fingers, weaving together with those flickering patterns.
“It’s not strange.”
It wasn't until he spoke that the Core-seed noticed his voice was low and husky. When he scooped up the pair of wings, he gathered the fine, glowing powder along with them, as if holding a handful of stars that had fallen between his fingers.
A poet of the Old Earth had once written song-like lines: *“My heart also falls for this, when the dew falls into sleep, dripping before the twinkling stars and you, until the end of time...”* And now, he leaned down, kissing the male’s fragile, uneasy wings in the same manner.
“They are very, very beautiful,” Sakti said. “Better than all the decaying jewels of the mortal world, better than any reflection I have ever seen.”
“You are my morning star at the break of dawn, Roxanne.”
***
Enjoying the story? Rate this novel:
Sacre-D: Reborn as the Swarm's Apex | Chapter 93 | Stars Beneath the Wings | Novela.app | Novela.app
