In a few minutes, another vehicle arrived, large and boxy, while the woman in front of me asked questions I could not answer. Where did I live? Where was the john? I answered that I did not know, and based on my understanding of the language, I wasn’t aware of the local waste disposal facility’s location. Oddly, despite their stress, my answer to the second question evoked a strange coughing noise that seemed to indicate amusement.

It seemed safest to indicate shock and disorientation about the accident, which was true. I had no idea where I was save for Chee-Carr-Goo which the woman gently corrected to Chicago. At the question of my age, I sadly indicated that I was seventeen and one-half local cycles, and thus ineligible to immediately engage in reproductive efforts.

This response seemed to elicit an unusual response from both of the women. “So you don’t have sex, but you are a call girl, and you are under eighteen?” the rounder one asked.

I shrugged slightly. “I will obviously heed a call to conflict, but your term call girl is a little confusing. Aren’t all females call girls? You have clearly been called as well, to be a police department. But no, I do not reproduce for this nest yet, at least not here. It is apparently prohibited to someone my age, and I would not wish to be punished.”

“You are weird, girl. Were you raped? It looks like you got fucked up pretty bad.” She said.

Rape. An unauthorized engagement in reproductive efforts, often aggressively. “I am not aware of fertilizing?” I answered cautiously.

The larger woman said, “It looks like she got rolled hard. And there are bits back here. I suspect a gang. I am not an EMT or CSI, but it looks like they grabbed her, one of ‘em slammed her head into a wall maybe along with someone else that didn’t survive? They got scared when a head popped, cleaned up her wallet, and ran. Probably with the body.”

I was confused. “You mean, some individuals may have done this? Intentionally? I don’t understand. It must have been some sort of accident. These things I am wearing on my feet, the shoes, are very poorly designed. Perhaps I fell and was injured?”

The paler female shook her head in apparent negation. Useful gesture. “Not likely. You remind me of my daughter.” Right, my new species was capable of differentiating their own offspring. “Girl like you, downtown like this. Why were you even here by yourself? If you are a call girl, no one within ten blocks could afford you. You were probably here with someone else and got jumped. You obviously have some kind of trauma because of the way you are talking.”

The way I was talking? I thought I was being clear. Two more women hurried over to me and the rounded one vacated my presence as they started examining me. The larger dark woman, who was still by far the largest of the group, said “Dude, your daughter wouldn’t look like that unless she lost 40 pounds and went through about a hundred plastic surgeries.”

The round one shook her head, “I meant Gilly. She has this kind of lost thing going on like she doesn’t know what the hell we are saying half the time like Gilly does. She’s too old for that, though, especially if she’s a working girl. She doesn’t sound like a seventeen-year-old. More like a smart twelve, like Gilly. Maybe she’s autistic? Looking like that, I am wondering if whoever got brained was a procurer, and she just got dragged out of some weird compound or something. I’d say foreign, but she doesn’t have any kind of accent except maybe TV.”

The bigger woman shrugged. Also a useful gesture. “I’m just glad that it’s not a couple more bodies. I am seriously considering moving my family out of here. My wife still gets freaked out every time I come home looking like I’ve had to deal with a murder scene.”

Wife. Another female family member. Most of their conversation, despite my linguistic understanding, was absolutely mysterious. Autistic was a special sort of mental condition that apparently involved reduced empathy, which could be correct. I had no idea what my new body’s appearance indicated.

One of the early spells for the magician path involved repairing personal injuries at close range, but very few ever learned it. What was the point? Limbs and even pedipalps would quickly regrow if damaged in an accident, and carapace damage was almost always fatal as your circulatory system depressurized. A few of the more intellectually oriented learned it for their own edification, but it was not considered a useful ability since it had no effect on something like a drone. All of us learned mend, of course, since telepresence allowed it to help repair damaged drones that hadn’t been rendered inoperable, and reconstructing mechanical damage allowed microengineers like me to help quickly restock damaged equipment.

Now I was regretting that decision, however, as the two women dressed in strange green uniforms started asking me questions and examining me. These humans were extraordinarily prone to nonfatal injury, and I resolved to gain the sorcery technique if I ever gained another rank. I didn’t have access to the sorcerous library I would need to research it myself, so I would have to release one of my other techniques, perhaps acceleration. This world was dangerous enough with its high gravity and fragile life that doubling my movement speed or that of a drone could quickly prove destructive.

The two women were checking over my wounds and explained that I seemed to have a sprained collarbone, which would explain the pain in my arm and a messy, but nondangerous scalp wound. It would not require any treatment other than some sort of standard cleanup and taping, whatever that was, but they still wished to take me to a medical facility called a hospital for treatment and observation, especially since I still had a few bits of grey matter embedded in the bloody mess in my headfur, and they wanted to know where it came from.

I had my own suspicions, of course, I thought it might be mine. The healing I received from the system probably repaired a possibly-lethal hole in the bony carapace between my outer covering, called skin and repaired the brain damage that had forced the prior soul to flee. These creatures, My species, I mentally corrected, were apparently capable of sustaining grievous damage while their bodies continued to function automatically. If that were true, obtaining the healing spell might be vastly more critical, especially if it kept the soul from leaving a barely-functioning body until it could be repaired.

The medical workers did not have rank insignia on their faces, although the smaller of the two, almost as small as I was, had hair of a much longer length. She had it bound up with small pins close to her head, and covered with a sort of net, but the other green-clad woman was taller with her hair shorn down to her scalp, like the dark woman.

I was starting to think my initial estimation of the head coverings being indicators of prestige might be incorrect, since the taller, shorn EMT appeared to be the senior of the two, despite a lack of hair or facial growth. Perhaps it was simply aesthetic? I noticed that both myself and the shorter EMT seemed to have knobbier outer coverings than the larger ones, although both the dark woman and the taller EMT had knobbier, more powerful-looking arms, despite the lack of thorax curves.

The sight of those arm curves was surprisingly interesting, and I reached out with one hand and brushed it down the curves almost without thinking about it. Generally, my people cared little about personal contact, either in favor or opposed, since it was inevitable in a hive. Like the rounded female, her arm had a thin layer of almost-invisible fur that was much thicker than my own, but considerably lighter than the round one’s arm. The muscles were surprisingly firm for an endoskeletal creature, not like a carapace, of course, but these creatures seemed to have a surprising variety of forms.

This could possibly be one major advantage of an endoskeletal form. It could be possible to develop musculature far in excess of what was possible when your muscles were internal. In this intense gravity field, such a development might be necessary to carry weight in excess of your own.

The sensation of brushing my fingertips along her lightly-furred arm was surprisingly pleasant and again made me wonder what having such a female in my family would be like and the reproductive potential of such a family. Oddly, I felt my body seem to grow warmer for a moment. Perhaps these creatures, with their exposed muscular and nervous systems, had strong grooming behaviors and an instinct for physical contact? That certainly seemed likely.

The woman looked at me strangely for a moment after I brushed her arm. This useless nose could not detect much in the way of pheromones, but she said, “I am sorry, sweety, you are absolutely gorgeous, and if I were a little less bent I would probably jump you in a heartbeat, but my boyfriend would not approve. Let’s go ahead and get up and get you into the ambulance.”

Boyfriend? Oh, she had a male already. Males of this species might not be willing to fertilize new females in the family initially, and it was surprisingly sensitive of her to care about her male’s opinions in this way. I personally considered males a weak form of sapience and approved of her care for their emotions.

“Of course, that is very sensitive of you. It is rare to find a woman that cares so much about her family male’s instincts. I am a bit of a rebel, and think of them as real people as well.”

She looked at me oddly, and then said, “Nancy, we should call the hospital and get her a full MRI as well, I think she might have significant cerebral damage.”

“What is an MRI?” I asked curiously. I assumed it was something medical, but I didn’t have any medical skills, so I guess the language bonus didn’t apply.

“Magnetic resonance imaging. It will help us see if there is some kind of pressure or damage in your brain. You seem to be suffering from some kind of severe trauma, possibly memory damages, maybe a form of amnesia, although I hate that word, because memory loss is usually selective, not total like in the movies.”

“I am umm…. Foreign. I don’t think I am suffering from any memory loss?”

She chuckled a little as they helped me lie down on a weirdly soft surface that cradled my shape rather than pressing painfully against it as the ground had, and then he started wrapping straps over my body, clearly some safety precaution against the vehicle’s acceleration. It was a bit terrifying, the idea of moving around quickly in something so fragile and delicate, but I was far less adamant about my safety than I would have been before. The personal safety instinct for humans appeared to be far less aggressive, although the prohibition against discorporation in my mind was surprisingly powerful.

“Sweety, there’s either something wrong with your eyes or your brain. My boyfriend occasionally calls me a bitch, but I have never been accused of being female before.”

The realization caught my by surprise, almost staggering me despite my prone position. If I had been in my original form I would have let out a foul scent, but in this one, I let out a startled “smashed eggs!” and then slapped my hand over my mouth at uttering such a foul obscenity. This creature… this intelligent and skilled person, was male?

He chuckled a little, apparently amused rather than outraged at my unforgivable breach of etiquette. “You seem surprised. I have been called a pretty boy before, but never a girl. If you are having such obvious trouble telling male from female, I think a full workup might be needed. Unless you are on something?” he asked, and I could tell the odd facial expression he was making was worry. At least the body language part of my initial translation was working.

“No, I just...have never encountered such an intelligent male before. I mean, you speak intellectually, in advanced words. And you are so large! And you are strong, with well-defined muscles that appear to have required a lot of development, as well as being aesthetically pleasing.” I decided to be honest with him. “Are you an elite breed or something?”

He shook his head, “Ma’am, I am not sure what you are seeing, but except for Nancy, here.” And he indicated the much smaller woman currently piloting the vehicle, “Everyone at the scene was male. Especially officer Nichols.” he shook his head and pursed his lips, and a surprisingly low, pure note drifted out. “I don’t usually prefer chocolate, but he’s a hell of a man. But I do appreciate the compliments, I work hard to stay in shape. Hell, if I were straight, I’d be trying to get you naked right now.”

I shook my head slowly, to avoid pain. “I am beneath your legal age for reproduction. The way you say it implies fertilization? Unless being naked is a way of showing affection here?”

I could sort of imagine such tactile creatures simply allowing their skins to brush each other. It had been surprisingly pleasant, and I could see how being surrounded by other warm creatures of your own kind for tactile contact could be considered a bonding experience.

He shook his head, and then pulled out a small box with a needle and a plastic cord attached. “I am going to give you an IV with saline solution, just in case we need it, alright? This may pinch for just a moment.” He took out a small rubber strip and wound it around my upper arm. As he had said, it did pinch a little, but I could tolerate it for a while, although it felt like it was slightly impeding my circulatory system.

“What is that for?” I asked, curious about the band.

He showed me his teeth. Apparently, it was not a hostile gesture, but one of friendliness, unusual among creatures that possessed notable canines, like his. Perhaps at some time in their distant history, they had descended from some kind of predator? My own species didn’t have teeth but rather used a strong acid to dissolve plant matter in our stomach. Our distant forebears, however, had used our bonding spinnerets to create traps for living creatures rather than simple buildings. It was a horribly savage history, and I was incredibly grateful we had outgrown the need for animal protein hundreds of millions of years ago. Perhaps these humans still had vestigial traits, such as hair.

“You put on a band to stop the blood temporarily so when I inject the IV you don’t go spraying all over the place,” he said, showing me the needle. Inject it? Into my circulatory system? My stomach suddenly clenched in fear and I shuddered in absolute terror and tried to crawl away, only to be stopped by the straps across my chest and legs. “No, no, no, no, I do not wish to be injected,” I stated.

He nodded, “I get it, a ton of people are scared of shots, but it will barely hurt for a second. That way, since you seem to have lost a lot of blood, we can get some saline back into you and you don’t get dehydrated. If you have a concussion, your stomach might not accept water and I don’t want to spend hours cleaning that up.”

Right, these creatures were very dependent on water to exist. I suppose directly injecting it into their circulatory systems was vastly more efficient than simply using their innate digestive system. I allowed the… injection, but the pain when he pressed it into my arm made water start leaking from my eyes again, and I sniffled.

He sighed, “I’m sorry. You seem to be really sensitive. I am usually better at it than this, but you are not very big and don’t have a lot of veins near the surface, I had to dig a little.”

I would have to get used to the idea of males that were every bit as intelligent as females, and that would set back my plans to turn this species into useful combatants. More competition for leadership roles. “I am not deriding your competence. I am simply not used to feeling pain.”

He nodded and started to clean up my head. With soft moist rags. “This is kind of gross. Your skull seems to be okay, but it looks like you were… umm… splashed with someone else. You won’t need stitches, but I am going to put a bandage on this. I won’t need to shave your hair, and a doctor will probably prescribe an antibiotic, but how did this happen? Are your tetanus shots up to date?”

I sighed, “I don’t know what a tetanus shot is, or how to update it… I am foreign. Why would a doctor choose to poison me?”

He chuckled a little, “antibiotics? Heh, you really are foreign. To prevent infection. Not likely, since you are young and healthy, but you gotta watch out.”

“What is an infection?” I asked curiously. It sounded like a parasite. I hoped I didn’t have a parasitic human fetus already, that would be highly inconvenient, and potentially physically dangerous. “I am too young to be legally sexually active, but it is possible I already have a parasite. People here seem to be a lot less conscious of tradition than where I am from, and I do not know if I have used my reproductive system.”

I was uncomfortable for some reason, but when I started explaining my problem to him he coughed a little and shifted places with the other professional, a female, named Nancy.

When I explained what was getting uncomfortable she looked at me very oddly, but gave me a device that I could use to relieve myself. when I asked, explaining that I had used something like that, she was happy to explain how it worked.

"Did any of the boys touch you?" she asked.

I nodded, "Yes, apparently one of them was very violent and tried to kill me.

She shook her head, but noted how difficult it was for me to use the fasteners on my pants. "I mean touch you, like intimately."

I shook my head, "Not as far as I know, the officers said it looked like they had beaten my head against my wall too hard, grabbed my belongings, and then ran when they noticed I looked dead."

I thought for a moment, "It is also prohibited for them to attempt to reproduce with me, as they will be punished."

She nodded, "Have you ever done that with a boy before?"

"Breeding?" I asked, "No, I have never been in the position where that was even an option before. As I stated, I am underage."

Nancy nodded, "Virgo intacta then. good. It would suck if you had gotten raped, if you are underaged, okaying a rape kit is a nightmare. Even worse if you got pregnant.

Pregnant. The state in which a human female is hosting a parasite. “I am glad. That would inconvenience me for a time.”

She chuckled, “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. I don’t usually recommend getting it taken care of, since that sort of thing can hit you later on unless it’s really necessary. If you had gotten raped it would be really necessary, though.”

“I am sorry, but this term raped. Does that happen often? And why would… someone try to end my life?”

she looked at me very oddly. I seemed to have asked another question that the locals took as innate knowledge. But the idea that someone would actually try to commit violence against someone else, to end their life and send their soul off, was nearly enough to make someone lose their grip on reality. And what was this obsession with involuntary reproduction? Obviously, eggs had to go somewhere, wouldn’t they be used to ensure species survival?

“I guess… umm… whoever jacked your purse and stole any money or credit cards you had got a little too rough when they got you. And the rape thing, I mean, have you looked at yourself? They must have thought they killed you when they grabbed your stuff, or there’s no chance they wouldn’t have gotten their rocks off. I won’t walk around down here, and I am not that great looking. You look like you should be on a magazine cover or something.”

She sighed and shook her head, “I envy you. Not a drop of makeup on you and you look better than I would after two hours in the bathroom with a cement mixer. If I were you, I would get the hell out of this city before something bad happens to you, especially neighborhoods like the one we found you in, since you are a crime waiting to happen. Why were you there?”

The only thing I understood, really, was that this new body was considered aesthetically appealing to males, who for some reason, considered that appeal a reason for involuntary fertilization. Logically, I suppose that makes sense, to find the healthiest female possible to bear the young you were bound to protect and raise, but wouldn’t such a method engender ill-feeling among the parents prior to cohabitation? What if she didn’t find you appealing, or empathy was not high enough to create a good family bond? What if your personality clashed so much that you actually disagreed on some things?”

“Rape sounds like it would be disagreeable, and unconscionably rude. Almost as rude as ending someone’s life without their permission. I don’t really know why I was there. It seems like a surprisingly unwise choice to risk myself in that fashion.”

She nodded, “Yeah, you could say that.”