He doesn't know where he is. Or what – the form he now inhabits is unfamiliar. Aeryn sits at his side, eyes wide in an ashen face as she stares at him. He cannot process what has happened; his mind is too limited to work the parameters and algorithms.

"Aeryn," he says, pleads, needing to know.

She passes a shaking hand over her face. "Yotz," she mutters. "This can not be happening." She looks at him again. "Talyn?"

"Y-yes." Or he thinks he is, at least. "Something went… wrong."

"The transponder," she says then. "It has to have been… You and Crais have… melded, I think. I'm not really sure. But it is the only explanation I can think of." She touches him and he jerks; the feeling of skin against skin strange and unsettling. "Sorry. How…" Her eyes scan him. "You know where you are?"

He lifts a hand – the word is found within the mind that resides alongside his – and stares at it. "This is… not me," he says.

"No." Aeryn looks uncertain. "Where is… Bialar?"

"Here. As well. He is… sleeping. I don't think he is quite aware of me." He is out of his body and scared. He fights emotion but liquid seeps from his eyes. "I don't understand!"

"Shush," she soothes and eases an arm around him. He curls against her in terror and she strokes a hand over his head. "It'll be alright. I-I think. At least something of you has survived Talyn. I thought I had lost you."

"I'm scared Aeryn. This is not right!"

"Who is to say?" she asks. "I doubt very much that Bialar would tolerate this even subconsciously if he did not choose it. He is too stubborn" She chuckles softly. "Both of you are. This could be interesting."

This surprises him and he looks up. "I-interesting? That's a… novel way of putting it."

She smiles down at him. "I suppose. I'm guessing that you have control because he is asleep. Were you aware a moment ago?"

He thinks, trying to put his scattered thoughts into some semblance of order. "Sort of," he says slowly. "It was like… like receiving a distant comm. Imperceptively aware, I think."

"I see." She brushes her fingers over his face wonderingly. "I'm less inclined to think these are not burns, but a physical change. It's like your bodies came out… mixed. You feel colder and your skin is less pliable." A slightly sad smile touches her lips. "Of one mind and now of one body."

Talyn nods and catches her hand. Her skin is very pale next to his. He is incredibly aware of how soft it is, how easily he could damage her. This new form is safer than his last, but only marginally so.

"It does not bother me," he says quietly. "I just hope that it does not bother Bialar."

"Do you think that he might be aware of us now?" Aeryn asks.

He shrugs. "I don't know. His mind is not that familiar to me yet."

"Hm. Well that might mean I get to explain this to him." Her tone is wry and she sighs softly. "And somehow we need to decide what to do next. How badly injured are you? It's so hard to tell what is… a result of your merger and what is damage."

He thinks, feels through the body he has taken, the systems at once known and unfamiliar. "Minor injuries," he reports finally. "I think the cold of space limited our exposure to heat."

"I wonder if you can both be conscious simultaneously?" Aeryn muses then. "Obviously control of the body is going to be an issue though."

"It is his," Talyn answers. "I will yield when necessary."

"Could you communicate with him?"

"I do not know. Perhaps. I don't wish to right now though. It would be… well something of a shock."

"Just a little. You seem calm enough though."

He gives her a wan smile. "I expected to be dead Aeryn. Anything is better than that. And this form is not… unpleasant. Radically different, but…" He flexes a hand, feeling both the advantages and restrictions of the body. "Adaptable."

"I am very glad that something of you remains Talyn. I… I left Moya. There were too many memories. So I can help you now. Both of you."

"Thank you Aeryn." His eyes shift to the Prowler and he feels a shaft of loss. "You will have to fly me now."

She takes his hand and squeezes. "Yes."

"The price of freedom," Talyn notes and wonders if it is worth the cost. He is not sure yet; there are too many questions that need answers. He flexes his hands again, translates the amount of contraction into pressure.

Working it out requires a comparison of what he remembers to what Bialar knows. The knowledge is just there – most of the memories he has access to are not his own, but his. For two cycles his captain existed inside him, part and separate, joined by the transponder that is still attached to the neck. Now the roles are reversed he finally understands Bialar's restrictions and limitations; things he failed to when he was a Leviathan. There are several things he forced whilst in that form that he is ashamed of now.

"Can you stand?" Aeryn asks then, startling him out of his dark reverie.

"I… actually I am not sure."

She helps him to his feet. It feels incredible strange, the limbs of the body take a while to balance and there is the pull of gravity to take into consideration. He wriggles his toes within the constraint of the boots, feels the electric of nerves responding to the orders of the brain, synapses snapping. Co-ordinating this form is no harder than working his own, just different, and he finds the centre of balance and holds it.

Aeryn's face lights up. "Well done," she praises and he grins.

"Apparently I can," he chuckles. He focuses on his feet. Bialar is quite tall and before now Talyn has had no real concept of height. Or rather distance to the ground. He feels strange… dizzy. He feels Aeryn's hand tighten around his arm. "I'm okay. It's just different."

"Yes, I imagine so."

He laughs roughly. "You have no idea Aeryn," he says, though not unkindly.

"You ought to try it from this side," she returns. "Talking to you whilst you wear his face." She stares at him. "Well the new version of it. That is still strange."

"Yeah?" He glances at his hands. "Yeah, I guess it must be."

"The eyes are… very unsettling."

Talyn looks at her and she holds his gaze, but there is… what… repulsion in her face? He takes an uncertain step towards the Prowler. Walking involves a shift of balance, means maintaining a certain speed so that gravity is defied. He stumbles once and is caught by Aeryn. He shoots her a glance.

"Let me try."

She withdraws and he tries again. He is aware of her hovering worriedly, no doubt concerned he will do… the body injury, or that it is already damaged and he has missed something. He wants to reassure her, but he isn't sure he won't fall. But he still has to try.

One step becomes two and then a third. Walking, it seems, becomes easier the more one does it. He makes it to the Prowler, to the canopy that reflects his face, and stares into his own eyes. Unsettling is not the word he would use. Everything spins slowly and he feels himself crumple. Darkness closes in and he looses consciousness.