After her favorability broke through the 60-point threshold, Sarah's thought patterns underwent a world-shaking transformation.
If her previous behaviors—whether it was the desire to consume biomass or her closeness to Raynor—were rooted in Tyranid instinct or some strange guiding impulse, then now, she was more like a dry sponge, frantically absorbing, mimicking, and attempting to understand everything about the human world.
Her linguistic communication grew increasingly fluid. From the initial stiff, awkward pronunciation of "Raynor," she had progressed within just a few days to organizing complete sentences. She even occasionally used vocabulary learned from Raynor's daily conversations.
An even more significant change was that she began to develop "curiosity" about her surroundings. This emotion was practically "heretical" for a Tyranid, a race born solely to devour all things. Yet, curiosity had taken root and sprouted within Sarah, driving her to constantly question Raynor.
During lunch in the cafeteria of the temporary command center, Dobby was happily feasting on ten cans of synthetic starch. The metal cans were easily crushed by his thick fingers, and blocks of starch were stuffed into his mouth as if they cost nothing, with white powder clinging to the corners of his lips. Despite the terrible taste, Dobby ate with extraordinary joy, emitting satisfied grunts from time to time.
Raynor, meanwhile, sat before a plate of delicate synthetic steak and a small portion of nutritional paste, eating methodically. The mini Ripper hidden within his collar moved slightly, and Sarah's cool voice rang softly directly in his ear, tinged with a hint of bewilderment:
"Raynor, Dobby eats so much more than you. And you humans all eat so little—don't you get hungry?"
Raynor swallowed a piece of steak and responded through their psionic link, his tone gentle: "Our physiological structures are different."
"Ogryns are a much stronger strain of abhuman. Their muscle density is immense, and their energy consumption far exceeds that of an ordinary human. They must eat massive amounts to maintain their combat effectiveness. Furthermore, the human digestive system has limited efficiency; eating too much would actually become a burden. A Tyranid's biomass conversion efficiency is dozens of times higher than ours—you absorb biomass and convert it into pure energy, making it part of your 'strength.' For us, eating is more about maintaining the normal operation of our biological systems."
Raynor paused to think for a moment, then added: "And for the Tyranids, it is driven more by the instinct of 'Endless Hunger' and the need to create a vaster army. That is the difference between our races regarding the 'purpose of eating.'"
Sarah remained silent for a while, seemingly digesting this information. After a moment, she responded softly: "I see. Our 'purposes' for eating are different."
Raynor couldn't help but curl his lips into a slight smile. He gently tapped the little creature on his collar with his fingertip, offering no further explanation. Some things were better left for her to observe and experience slowly.
In the afternoon, Raynor took Sarah to inspect the fortifications of the Forbidden Wall. Snow continued to fall from the sky. Large, feather-like flakes drifted down from the grey firmament, quickly accumulating into a thin white layer on Raynor's uniform.
Sarah's voice rang out again, filled with novelty: "These white, cold things coming from the sky... what are they?"
Raynor didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked around alertly, and Sarah instinctively expanded her psionic vision. Sure enough, two soldiers had accidentally overheard a faint "female voice" whispering from his collar. Although they couldn't hear the content, they had become suspicious.
Raynor immediately pulled out his comms device and, on the pretext that "the two may have been exposed to Chaotic whispers and pose a risk of mental contamination," had them reassigned away from the core area for "purification observation." In reality, he had the Genestealer Cultists within the army handle them secretly to ensure the secret remained safe.
Only after confirming the surroundings were absolutely secure did Raynor explain in a low voice: "This is snow. It is the solid state of water."
"The atmosphere of Brevis contains a large amount of water vapor. When it encounters low temperatures, it condenses into ice crystals, which gather together to form snowflakes." He reached out to catch a pristine flake and continued: "This planet's atmospheric cycle is unstable. The winters are long and bitter. Snow covers the ice plains, making hunting and marching difficult. On other planets, some environments have no snow, only an eternal haze. Others are hot year-round, consisting only of deserts and lava. The universe is vast; every world is different."
Sarah's mini Ripper poked a small section of itself out from the collar, its compound eyes reflecting the glint of the snow as if watching intently.
"Cold, but beautiful," she gave a simple evaluation, her tone carrying a hint of "childishness" that no Tyranid should possess.
In the following days, Sarah's "exploration" never ceased.
On a night when the blizzard had calmed, Raynor finished his official duties and brought her to the observation deck at the top of the Forbidden Wall. The sky above was unusually clear of heavy snow, and dots of starlight gathered into a silver river. It had traveled across countless light-years and ages to reach their eyes.
Sarah asked curiously: "Those bright little dots... what are they?"
Previously, she only knew that within those small points of light lay the biomass they required, but she had never truly looked up at this starry sky.
Raynor looked up at the star-river, his gaze distant: "Those are stars. Like 'Healis,' which Brevis revolves around, they are distant sources of light. Countless stars and their planets form star systems, and countless star systems gather to form the Galaxy. We live on the edge of that Galaxy."
He recalled a poem from his past life and subconsciously murmured: "Drunken, I know not the sky is in the water; a boat full of clear dreams weighs down the Star River."
Sarah was silent for a long time before asking in confusion: "I don't understand the meaning, but it sounds very special."
Though she didn't understand the literal meaning of the poem, she could sense the ethereal beauty within the words. Raynor chuckled and explained: "It is a poem describing the vastness of the stars. Humans use this way to express their feelings about nature and the universe."
The two spoke no more, continuing to watch the stars and enjoying this moment of tranquility.
On one occasion, the logistics department delivered a rare batch of fresh synthetic steaks. These were cultivated using special fungi and had a texture close to real meat. Raynor purposely saved a portion.
Sarah did not hurriedly devour it as she usually did with biomass. Instead, at Raynor's prompting, she used the mini Ripper's mouthparts to gently tear at it, "tasting" it bit by bit.
"The flavor is weak. Not as good as those 'Sons of Medusa' cans," she gave a blunt critique that left Raynor unsure whether to laugh or cry. Apparently, for a Tyranid, powerful Space Marines still had a superior "flavor profile."
She would ask Raynor to pick a rare Ice-Cyan Flower from the Brevis plains—a tiny flower that bloomed in the bitter cold, emitting a faint fragrance similar to pine. Sarah would touch the petals gently with the Ripper's antennae, smelling the weak scent and whispering: "It's different from the smell of the Creep. No fishy scent."
She would quietly listen to the Imperial war songs played by the accompanying chanting servitors, the stirring melodies echoing through the command center. Raynor thought she might find it noisy, but she said: "It has great power, but it is different from the Greenskins' Waaagh!"
She would also take advantage of the times Raynor was alone to carefully touch his skin with the mini Ripper. Human body heat radiated through the skin, bringing a warm sensation completely different from the coldness of a Tyranid. Sarah's movements were very light, tinged with a sense of experimentation, as if she were touching a fragile treasure.
"Raynor's temperature is very comfortable," she whispered.