"Do you ever switch hosts?" Jarvis asked.

"When a substrate enters terminal decline, our senses deteriorate and we experience mental distress," said the Braunt. "Naturally then, we recognize the need to decouple our consciousness and reconstitute it with a younger, more vigorous one. Mind death, especially a protracted and debilitating one, is anathema to our kind."

"At least we share that in common," Jarvis admitted. "Do you retain any of your former memories?"

"In myself, I carry the histories of all the substrates I have paired with going back hundreds of years. Not all memories can be fully activated though. When I recall sonar memories acquired from an aquatic species, they appear to me as unintelligible sounds since I no longer possess the species-specific neural constructs to process them. However, were I to pair with that species again, those memories would be restored to their full richness while others, like the tetrachromatic sight I now possess, would lose their resolution and immediacy. Yet the memories are still there waiting to be reanimated. When we pair with a creature of the same species, it feels like both a continuation and a rebirth."

"Do Braunts pair for the full lifetime of their host?"

"As I explained, when a substrate begins to enter terminal—"

"For the full healthy lifespan," Jarvis interrupted.

There was a slight pause. "That is not always the case."

"So you can decide to abandon a host for a different one at any time."

"Given a sufficiently compelling reason, yes."

"And what sort of reason might that be?"

"Some body forms are more effective at particular tasks. Take this substrate. It is specially adapted for working in micro-gravity. Were I to travel to the surface of a planet, the gravity would shatter all its bones. To spare us both that suffering, I would detach and pair with a new substrate better adapted to local conditions. Substrates may also get injured or sick and need time to convalesce. It is fruitless for a conscious mind to persist in such a state of discomfort or impairment."

"I get that if your substrate is dead, dying or pinned under a boulder, it makes sense for your big Braunt brain to jump ship. But what I really want to know is, do you ever change hosts just for the sheer hell of it?"

"I am not familiar with this figure of speech."

That was a stalling tactic if Jarvis ever heard one. "Let me spell it out for you. Do you ever change hosts for discretionary reasons? Maybe you get bored and want to try on something a bit more exciting, maybe one that has a raging sex drive."

"This is done sometimes," the Braunt admitted. "Our philosophers have long debated the ethics of various scenarios."

Jarvis had him on the ropes. Now for the knockout punch. "In other words, a Braunt can switch hosts as often as it likes so long as it can come up with a good enough reason—like wanting to go on safari, show off its stylish fur coat, or maybe just have a good old-fashioned romp in the hay. You could have a stable of different hosts, one for each day of the week."

"Pairing with a substrate is not as simple and quick as you describe. It takes several days to achieve full neural assimilation and the process involves a certain degree of trauma."

"By trauma, you mean?"

"Confusion and disorientation, hallucinations, coordination problems or in rare cases even violent seizures."

"But these go away after a few—wait, I thought pairing took weeks."

"Neuro-stimulators accelerate the assimilation process."

"So modern science has made the procedure quick and painless. How very human-like of you."

"Is that meant as a compliment or sarcasm? Your speech can be difficult to interpret at times."

"Both," Jarvis said. "I get the picture. Your kind are driven to pair with a host, without which you are little more than semi-conscious insects with extraordinarily large brains trapped inside a dark, sound-proof shell. The host creatures serve as your full-immersion gateway to the physical world. In return for lending you their eyes, ears, hands and gonads, the host's mind gets to come along for the ride and feel what it's like to be fully sentient. Of course, you can decide to work your host to death or cast it aside so long as you can come up with a good enough reason. But it's still you, the Braunt, that is calling the shots. To use a human analogy, the foot may be a part of the body but if the brain decides it wants to dance on hot coals, the foot must comply. Do I have that right?"

"That is generally correct although inaccurate in some of its specifics. Furthermore, I detect a strong sentiment of disapproval in your selection of language constructs."

This alien reasoned and talked too much like an AI for Jarvis's comfort. "Sentiment of disapproval, huh? You are a perceptive one, all right. In any case, if I had even a shadow of a doubt about striking a deal with you before—which I did not—I have even less reason to trust you now. But surely you anticipated my reaction. I don't think you've traveled half a light year out of your flight path just to elucidate me on the neuro-psychology of Brauntian host pairing. So before I tell you to get the fuck off my ship, would you at least do me the honor of telling me what it is you hoped to accomplish by coming here in person?"

The Braunt's response was instantaneous. "We aim to create a higher form of consciousness."