Artemis’s response to his attempt at inquiring about the process wasn’t exactly reassuring to Azdrei’in. He frowned, struggling to distinguish if she meant that she didn’t know if his people could use the method or if she hadn’t understood what he was trying to ask her. Lacking a common tongue was especially frustrating when they were trying to broach a topic as complex as artificial fertilization. He glanced at the screen again and drummed his clawed fingers against his thigh as he pondered over a better way to tackle the language barrier. However, before he found an answer, the human beat him to it.
He watched as the scene changed on the screen, and she brought up a video of a human female giving birth. At first, the abrupt switch baffled him, and he turned back to her with a perplexed expression, unsure why she thought this was relevant. When she spoke again and pointed to her middle, he glanced between her and the screen, piecing together that she was trying to explain her reproductive anatomy to him. He did his best to follow along, though he had next to no knowledge about the subject. He had a general concept of his own people’s anatomy, enough to be able to accurately guess the vicinity of most of their internal organs, and of course knew how procreation worked. Beyond that, he hadn’t been educated. Only Lunvalgan physicians were taught about such things.
He did manage to grasp the problem she was describing to him though. It was common knowledge among his people that the reason why they struggled to procreate was because the disease that had spread across their home planet had interrupted their females’ reproductive systems. Three generations later, they still didn’t know exactly why it had attacked that specific part of their bodies, but they had discovered that ever since their race had been infected, Lunvalgan females were mostly incapable of carrying a fetus to term because their uteruses often ejected it too early. Artemis’s solution of using a surrogate was interesting. If it had been tried among his people before, it hadn’t been successful, but what if…
He studied her with quiet intrigue. She looked incredibly similar to the females of his own species. He wondered if it was possible for them to use humans to carry their fetuses, since the Earthlings didn’t suffer from the infection that had ruined the Lunvalgans’ procreative abilities. If so, there was hope that they could recover before their numbers dwindled too far to repopulate. He wished he still had his communication device, so he could pass on the information he was learning to his commanders on the mothership. He wasn’t equipped to single-handedly solve this issue by himself. Unfortunately, the device was either lost or hidden somewhere by the human, and he didn’t have the words to ask her if she knew its whereabouts.
“Spaceship have specialist doctor,” he tried instead, attempting to tell her that there were physicians on the mothership that knew more about this than he did. If he could speak with them, they would be able to do more good than he was capable of.
Her description of something called “internet” went over his head. The best he could do was guess that it was something that contained more knowledge than what she had, since she claimed it would help. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was though, since she only showed him a picture of more technological devices that he didn’t recognize. It was probably something abstract, which would make it difficult for him to understand. So, he didn’t try very hard to comprehend it as she fumbled through her explanation.
Since he had woken up on her furniture, he’d been working constantly to absorb as much as he could as she spoke to him, but he could sense that he was starting to reach his limit. The mental fatigue coupled with the faint ache in the back of his head where she had struck him made it difficult to keep paying close enough attention to follow a conversation. He strode away from the screen on the wall to sit down again, pondering idly how much time had passed since he’d arrived on the Earth. He had spent a while in the ruins, exploring the unfamiliar terrain, had been unconscious for an indeterminate amount of time, and had spent even longer trying to interact with Artemis and watching the numerous videos she showed him. Belatedly, he also remembered that he hadn’t had anything to eat since he’d landed.
“Too many,” he exhaled, turning his head toward the human as she ate something he couldn’t see from a distance. What he lacked the verbiage to say was that he was overwhelmed. He had found an Earthling that had survived the virus with little to no repercussions, had learned enough of its language to communicate at least a little, and had discovered that it potentially had knowledge that could save his people from dying off. It was a lot to take in in just one day, and he was exhausted. To tell her, he projected a feeling of weariness and then an image of light fading into darkness before it returned at the start of the next morning, hoping that she would understand that he wanted to take the night—if it was night—to digest everything before he spoke to her further the next day.
sukikyoufu
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