The surgery was fascinating to watch. I had never seen the inside of my legs before, and Cowl’s hands were terrifyingly dextrous. All of them moved in concert as she cracked open access panels I had never known existed. The synthetic muscle under the metal shell of my legs was dark grey, and looked like thick cables. Using special tools, Cowl snaked between the fibers, all the while adjusting the angle of her head to get the best view.

“You know,” she said as she worked, “there’s a kind of look that I see on every Ulthean escapee. I noticed it the third time I freed one of your compatriots, and every time since, I’ve failed to miss it. There’s this desperation for validation. At first, I thought it was just due to how your Navy treated its soldiers, but then I saw it on you, back in the dock.”

I blinked, my brow tightening in confusion. “What?” I asked.

Cowl glanced at me before returning her eyes to my legs. “Ulthea has somehow managed to convince every single one of you that you aren’t allowed to be happy unless your superiors say you can.”

“That’s–” I bristled, then, remembering that the person I was speaking to could make sure I never walked again, I readjusted. “That’s not true. I’m happy. I’m getting pretty tired of everyone thinking they know everything about me because I’m Ulthean.”

“Of course I don’t know you, babe,” Cowl replied. “I just know Ulthea. You probably won’t really understand what I mean for a while. Just keep it in mind. We can’t be truly happy if we only focus on the needs and wants of other people.”

“What is this?” I asked. If I hadn’t been in the middle of what was essentially surgery, I would have left by now. “Fix my legs, fix my head while you’re at it? Do you do this to every Ulthean you meet?”

“Girl, of course!” Cowl snickered. “Your people need to be shaken up a bit in order to really fit in here. Now, we’re almost done. When I snip these last cables, your legs are going to activate, and you’re going to pass out from the energy draw. You’ll be fine, but promise me one thing.”

I tensed, both at her explanation and her request, but I nodded anyway. “Okay… What?”

“Be selfish once in a while!” Cowl hissed merrily. 

Then, without ceremony, the chips were cut free. I felt a surge of pins and needles in my legs, and my consciousness faded.

When I awoke, it wasn’t in Cowl’s ship. I was still a little woozy, but it wasn’t hard to recognize the medbay I had spent close to a month in. Helga was sitting in a chair to my right, watching me with a tired expression.

“She’s up, Tek’za,” she said, looking off to my left. Then, with a sigh of relief and looking at me, “Welcome back.”

I looked around, confused. Dr. Skisk made their way over to my left and leaned over the bed. “How are you feeling?” they asked. 

“I’m a little dizzy, but I feel fine, mostly,” I said. “Why am I here? Where’s Cowl?”

“You weren’t taking care of yourself is why,” Helga growled. “Did you have breakfast today? Lunch, even?” 

Uh oh. “I had coffee?” I hazarded.

Helga buried her head in her hands. Dr. Skisk chittered disappointedly. “Casey, you really need to make sure you’re eating at mealtimes,” they said. “At your last checkup, your weight was barely at a healthy level for your species and height, six months since being treated for malnutrition. If you don’t start taking steps to fix that, I’m going to recommend you stop working until you do.”

“But–” I tried to say, but Helga interjected.

“Make that an order,” she said. “I don’t need the Spacers getting on my ass about a starving employee doing heavy labor.”

“I’m not starving, I’m fine,” I protested, against all evidence. “I just get busy and forget. Besides, the food tastes off. I don’t like eating more than I have to.”

“The food doesn’t taste like what you’re used to because it wasn’t made by Vander Foods,” Dr. Skisk explained, with monumental patience. “It’s fresh. It isn’t needlessly overprocessed glucose, fat, protein, and carbohydrates crammed full of additives and preservatives. I am trying to be civil for your sake, but Srita Vander has a lot to answer for when it comes to nutrition.”

I looked at them in surprise at the casual mention of one of the Blessed. “You know about Miss Vander?”

“Ulthea beams out a crop or two of advertisements every year,” Helga said, adjusting her seating position. “We think it’s a ploy to get newly spacefaring civilizations talking so Ulthea can… bring them into the fold, as it were. It’s not just Vander Foods. It’s PaliTech, CorrCo, all of them. Those Vander Foods ads are a little unnerving, though. With the heart eyes?”

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, the first one I saw as a kid scared me pretty bad. You get used to it.”

“But hey, ‘Life is Sweeta with Srita’, right?” Helga said, glancing mischievously at Dr. Skisk.

Dr. Skisk made a disgusted noise. “We’re getting off topic. Casey, the reason why you’re here and not Cowl’s ship is because you were unconscious for longer than she expected when your legs powered on. The resulting energy draw was more than your body could handle, and you very nearly slipped into a coma. This only happens if the patient is regularly missing multiple meals. You will get used to the food if you keep eating it. Please make the effort.”

Fully chastened, I nodded. “Okay. I’ll try.”

There was a knock at the clinic door. We all turned to look at it.

“Come in, she’s awake,” Dr. Skisk called.

If a sliding door could burst open, this one practically did as Cowl came in. “Babe, I am so sorry,” she cried, though her same wide smile stayed fixed on her face. “I’m used to soldiers! They always have someone telling them what to do, when to eat… I’ve never had a problem like this before.”

I grinned sheepishly back at her, gripping one of my horns. “It was my fault, I wasn’t taking care of myself.”

“Well, as your doctor, I should have asked if you had eaten beforehand,” Cowl countered. “How about we split the blame, fifty-fifty?”

“That’s really not–” Dr. Skisk started.

“Deal,” I said, shaking Cowl’s outstretched hand.

“Now,” Cowl said, sweeping her head around the room to look at everyone once. “Is she ready to stand on her own?”

“She said she’s a little dizzy still,” Dr. Skisk said. “But there’s no harm in trying.”

My heart leapt. Between the chastising and having gotten so used to not being able to move my legs, it hadn’t even occurred to me to try. Anxiously, I took a deep breath, and simply tried bending them towards myself, as if to prepare to swing them off the bed and stand up.

For some reason, I had expected grinding gears. Maybe a deep, aching soreness. Or that just one of them would work, or maybe I had forgotten how to move my own legs. The room was quiet, save for the almost imperceptible sound of servos as my knees effortlessly bent under my own power. I looked up at everyone, stunned and full of gratitude.

“They work,” I said, nearly choking on the words as tears welled in my eye.

After celebratory hugs from Dr. Skisk and Cowl (Helga simply treated me to a smile and a nod, which nevertheless had the appreciated amount of significance behind it), I stood on my own two feet, my legs truly taking my weight for the first time in half a year. I hadn’t felt anything while laying in the bed, but now there was some soreness, where my prosthetics met my flesh at mid thigh. Cowl said it would pass in a day, and Dr. Skisk offered that it would if I was sure to eat enough protein today.

I practically skipped to show Vulka, and then Listher, my now working legs. Demonstrations of my magnetic feet were met with excitement and many questions that I didn’t have the answers to, though both were welcome. They were clearly as happy for me as I was (I couldn’t see Vulka’s expression, but his arms were especially wiggly). The three of us shared a meal and a drink with Helga in Stripes, and for the first time since escaping Ulthea, I went to bed feeling hopeful about the future.