Chapter 13 #2
“This is incredible,” Zara said, moving to examine the carved designs on the walls. “The level of craftsmanship, the attention to detail—these people have maintained a sophisticated culture despite living under siege conditions for generations.”
“It’s impressive,” I agreed, though my attention was focused on more practical concerns. I moved through the rooms, checking the walls for listening devices, assessing what could be used for weapons. How we could escape if our hosts decided to turn on us.
“Torven.” Zara’s voice carried a note of exasperation. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Being paranoid. These people have shown us nothing but kindness and hospitality.”
“These people have also been hunting Kythrans for generations,” I pointed out. “They’re warriors, Rivers. Survivors of what amounts to planetary genocide. Kind and hospitable doesn’t mean harmless.”
She was quiet for a moment, then nodded reluctantly.
“You’re right. I’m letting my excitement override my caution.
It’s just…this is the discovery of a lifetime.
A completely preserved example of pre-diaspora Destran culture, adapted and evolved in isolation.
The anthropological implications alone—”
“Are going to have to wait until we’re safely off this planet,” I finished. “Along with our crew.”
Before she could respond, there was a soft chime from the main chamber. When I opened the door, I found a young D’tran male waiting with a cart loaded with food, clothing, and what looked like personal hygiene supplies.
“From Vikkat,” she said in careful, measured words before departing. “For comfort. For health.”
The food was simple but substantial—some kind of grain-based stew, bread that was still warm from whatever ovens they used, and a pitcher of water that tasted clean and fresh. The clothes were clearly D’tran in design and one outfit appeared to have been hastily altered to fit Zara’s smaller frame.
“This is thoughtful,” Zara said, examining a tunic that looked like it would actually fit her properly. “They must have craftspeople who can work quickly.”
“Or they’ve had practice accommodating smaller species,” I replied, though even as I said it, I realized how that sounded.
“You think they’ve dealt with other crash survivors?”
“I think they’ve been living on this planet for a very long time, and survival sometimes requires difficult choices.”
We ate in comfortable silence, both of us too hungry to maintain conversation. The food was good—hearty and nourishing without being fancy. The kind of practical sustenance that a fortress community would develop out of necessity.
When we’d finished eating, we each took a turn in the small cleaning unit.
It was just a narrow box that blasted the body with fine mist after one “washed” with the cleaning oils they’d provided.
I knew Zara would have preferred soap, but she didn’t complain.
She did make a comment about the coarse-bristled brush that was included, exclaiming that such a thing would take the skin right off her.
I agreed, but in light of the D’tran peoples’ thick, hide-like skin, the harsh brush probably felt great for them.
After our bellies were full, bodies were clean, and we’d dressed in our new clothes, I gathered up Explorer Thex-Nol’s data pad and prepared to meet with Vikkat as promised. But as we were about to leave, there was another chime at the door.
This time it was Vikkat himself, accompanied by two other D’tran who had the bearing of advisors or senior staff.
“Ready to share information?” he asked.
My hands tightened on the data pad. We’d made the decision to trust these people with our survival. Holding back information now would be counterproductive. “What was written on this data pad was done so in the language that’s now standard for the quadrant. I can read you what it says.”
Vikkat folded his arms and nodded, and I recited the important parts of Explorer Thex-Nol’s journal, up to the end of his entries.
Vikkat occasionally made comments to his companions in rapid D’tran that I couldn’t follow.
When there was nothing more to share, he looked up with an expression of grim satisfaction.
“Good information. Confirms much we suspected.” He paused, studying both Zara and me carefully. “But raises new questions.”
“Such as?” Zara asked.
“Traveler writes of Kythrans in this tower. Two of them, working to shut down weather systems. But they disappear before success.”
“We suspected they might have tried to reach another facility,” I said. “The atmospheric conditions make surface travel extremely dangerous.”
“Yes. But where they go?” Vikkat’s expression was intense, focused. “Only one place possible. Underground caverns beneath mountain range. Deep caves where air might be clean, where technology might still function.”
I felt something cold settle in my stomach. “You think there are still Kythrans alive down there.”
“We have narrowed evidence that there are. If any survive, that is where they hide.” He leaned forward, his gaze fixed on mine.
“We have searched caves and found traces—footprints, pieces of tech, quickly abandoned sites. But we have no scanners or devices that can track them through tunnels.” He gestured to the device on my wrist. “We need help to catch them. To force them to fix what they broke.”
“And if they can’t fix it?” Zara asked quietly. “Or if they won’t help?”
Vikkat’s expression darkened. “Then we make them understand consequences of their refusal.”
The implicit threat in his words hung in the air like a challenge.
These people had been living with the results of Kythran technology for generations.
They’d watched their world die, their people struggle to survive in poisoned air and chaotic weather.
If they found living Kythrans, I worried their approach would be diplomatic.
“There’s something else to consider,” Zara said, her voice careful.
“The traveler’s logs said the Kythrans in his tower were well aware that they’d lost control of the towers.
Logic suggests that they were likely trying to shut down the system—they were trapped here, too.
If they’d had the knowledge and capability to fix the weather control system, wouldn’t they have done it? ”
The question hung in the air, and I could see the implications settling over Vikkat like a weight.
He’d been operating under the assumption that finding living Kythrans would solve their problem.
But what if access to the controls wasn’t enough?
What if the system was too damaged, too complex, or too far gone to be repaired, even by its creators?
“Genetic markers give access,” Vikkat said slowly. “But access is not same as control.”
“Exactly,” Zara said. “We might be hunting for people who are just as trapped by this situation as we all are.”
Vikkat was quiet for a long moment, processing this new perspective. Finally, he nodded grimly. “Then we find them and learn truth.” His gaze moved over her like he was assessing her for something. “You will try to fix the system.”
“Me?” Zara’s face scrunched up. “I can’t read Kythran, and I don’t know how the tech works either.”
Vikkat’s eyes turned from brown to red. “You are scientist. You will try.”
“I can try, I suppose, but—” Zara began.
I stepped in front of Vikkat, knowing my skin was turning all shades of aggressive colors. There was no helping it. “I want your word that no harm comes to her if she can’t alter the weather conditions.”
Vikkat took his time, meeting my gaze with calm measure. “No harm.”
After he and his advisors left, promising to show us the control room in the morning, where we could attempt to contact our crew again, Zara and I were alone once more.
The weight of everything we’d learned—about the D’tran, about the potential surviving Kythrans, about the complexity of the situation we’d found ourselves in—settled over us like a blanket.
“This seems too easy,” I said, voicing the concern that had been nagging at me since we’d arrived.
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it. We crash on a hostile planet, get rescued by long-lost relatives of my species, who just happen to have the resources and knowledge we need to survive. They welcome us with open arms, offer to help us find our crew, and propose a joint mission to solve the planetary crisis that’s been plaguing them for generations.
” I shook my head. “When has anything in our lives ever been that straightforward?”
Zara considered this, her analytical mind working through the same data points I was examining. “You think they have ulterior motives?”
“I think they’re desperate,” I said. “Desperate people sometimes make promises they can’t keep or ask for help with problems that can’t be solved. And when desperation meets disappointment…”
“Things can get dangerous quickly,” she finished.
“Exactly.”
Despite my concerns, though, I couldn’t deny the relief of being somewhere relatively safe, with clean air and adequate food and the promise of communication equipment that might help us reach our scattered crew.
Whatever the D’tran’s ultimate agenda might be, we were better off here than we had been in the failing weather tower.
And there was something else. Something about being in this place, seeing how these people had adapted and survived, that felt like coming home in a way I hadn’t expected.
The architecture, the social structures, the way families and warriors and craftspeople all fit together into a functioning whole—it reminded me of home.
Maybe this was what we’d lost when we’d taken to the stars. Maybe this was what we’d been looking for all along.
I looked at Zara, this brilliant, brave female who’d become the center of my universe. She was examining the carved designs on the wall, fingers tracing patterns that had been created by artisans who’d probably been dead for hundreds of cycles.
“Rivers,” I said quietly.
She turned toward me, and I crossed the room in three quick strides, pulling her into my arms and kissing her with all the pent-up emotion and desire that had been building since our interrupted morning in the tower.
She melted against me, her hands fisting in my shirt as she kissed me back with equal intensity. For a moment, the complex politics and uncertain future faded away, leaving nothing but the warm reality of her in my arms and the certainty that whatever challenges we faced, we’d face them together.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, I rested my forehead against hers.
If there was one thing I’d learned from this entire ordeal, it was that the universe had a way of throwing impossible challenges at you when you least expected them.
But it also had a way of providing exactly what you needed to survive.
And what I needed was her.