Chapter 2
IRIS
The question had been a formality, asked on the slim chance that one of the D’tran had mentioned the object to him during his time here. They hadn’t, obviously. And he couldn’t see what I could see.
My left eye, the one that wasn’t original equipment, adjusted its focus automatically.
The cybernetic implant whirred so quietly that only I could hear it, zooming in on the distant gleam.
What had been a bright flash of reflected light resolved into something more defined.
Oblong. Smooth edges. A surface too clean, too uniformly shaped to be debris from the escape pod or random wreckage scattered by the storms.
This thing hadn’t been here long.
Storm-tossed debris would be pitted, scarred, partially buried in dirt and new growth. This object sat on top of the rocky outcropping like it had been placed there. Or landed there. Recently.
I didn’t like it.
“Tomorrow,” I said. “Are you available to take a look at it?”
Baleck’s eyebrows rose. Something shifted in his expression. Surprise, maybe. Or confusion about why I was asking him, specifically.
Because you’re the only one here worth taking, I thought.
The diplomats would slow us down with their questions and observations and need for frequent rest breaks.
Baleck had proven during the climb that he could handle rough terrain without complaint.
And he knew this area better than anyone else in our small group.
“Yes,” he said after a moment.
“Good.”
I turned back toward the crash site, where Sophie was still examining the gouged earth and scattered stones.
Sophie had pulled out a recording device and was dictating notes in a low voice.
Vash stood with his arms crossed, his skin still that mottled brown-gray that would make him blend into the rocks if he wasn’t wearing a giant blue parka.
I couldn’t imagine what there was left to discuss, but they looked like they might be there for another hour.
Wonderful.
There was nothing left to see here. The D’tran had been thorough in their salvage operation.
A few twisted pieces of metal too small to be useful, some scorched earth, the scar of impact in the mountainside.
That was it. We hadn’t needed to make this climb at all.
The reports Sophie and Vash would write about this visit would be detailed and comprehensive and utterly pointless.
Just like all the other reports they’d written since arriving.
Just like the presentations they insisted on giving every evening, summarizing their findings to an audience of four people who had been present for everything they were summarizing.
I’d sat through three of those presentations so far. Each one had felt like a small death.
Diplomats. I understood their function in theory.
Build relationships. Establish trust. Create frameworks for cooperation.
In practice, it seemed to involve an enormous amount of talking and very little doing.
They wrote reports about writing reports.
They scheduled meetings to discuss the outcomes of previous meetings.
They used phrases like “synergistic opportunities” and “mutual framework development” without any apparent irony.
I preferred action. Clear objectives. Defined outcomes. Get in, accomplish the mission, get out. None of this endless circling around topics that could be addressed in five minutes if everyone would just say what they meant.
Baleck was different. I’d noticed that during our climb.
He talked, certainly. More than I would have preferred.
But there was a purpose to his words. He gathered information, tested reactions, built connections.
It was calculated in a way I could respect, even if I didn’t share his skill for it.
When he’d told me about wanting to witness the D’tran’s integration into the broader galaxy, there had been genuine interest in his voice.
He wasn’t just making conversation. He actually cared about what happened here.
I studied him now as he moved back toward the diplomats, his shaggy dark blond hair catching the light.
He was tall, even for a Destran, with broad shoulders and an easy, confident stride.
Objectively, I could acknowledge that he was attractive.
Strong jaw, expressive eyes that shifted between amber and gold depending on the light, features that managed to be both angular and somehow warm.
His skin was what fascinated me most. I’d read briefings on Destran physiology before the mission, but seeing it in person was different.
The dramatic shifts in color and patterns that reflected emotion, environment, intention.
Right now, he was a calm blue-gray that nearly matched the sky behind him, but I’d seen flickers of violet when the cold bit at him, hints of warmer tones when he smiled.
It was like watching someone’s internal state displayed on their skin. The opposite of everything I’d been trained to be.
I wondered if there was substance beneath the smooth exterior.
He was clearly skilled socially, comfortable with people in a way I had never been and had long since stopped trying to be.
Some people were built for connection. For reading rooms and navigating complex social dynamics and making others feel at ease.
I was built for other things.
“I believe we’ve documented everything relevant,” Sophie announced, tucking her recording device back into her jacket. “Vash, any final observations?”
Vash grunted something that might have been agreement or might have been indigestion. It was hard to tell with him.
Finally.
“Then we should head back,” Baleck said, moving to take point on the trail. “The weather’s turning. We don’t want to be caught on the ridge if it decides to rain.”
The descent was easier than the climb, at least physically.
The cold was another matter. The wind had picked up as the clouds thickened, cutting through my bodysuit with enthusiastic malice.
The thermal regulation in the fabric was designed for ship-based operations, not extended exposure to mountain weather.
A design flaw I would be noting in my equipment review.
I clenched my jaw against a shiver and kept walking. Mind over matter. I’d endured worse conditions than this. Much worse.
Sophie and Vash had fallen into conversation behind me.
Their voices droned in diplomatic jargon.
Something about “preliminary assessments” and “tactical holistic integration.” What did that even mean?
I tuned them out and focused on the trail, on the placement of my feet, on the rhythm of the descent.
A shiver escaped despite my best efforts. Small. Barely visible. Certainly not visible to anyone walking ahead of me or behind me.
Baleck stopped. Before I could say anything, he shrugged off his heavy coat and held it out to me. The hide was weathered and well-worn, clearly from the D’tran stores.
I stared at it. Then at him. His back had been to me. There were no eyes nestled in the back of his head that I could see, so how had he known I was cold?
“I run warm,” he said, as if that explained anything. His skin had shifted to something deeper, almost bronze. “Destran physiology. The cold doesn’t bother me as much.”
That was probably true. I’d read about their temperature regulation. But that wasn’t why I hesitated.
I didn’t accept help. I didn’t need help. I was capable of managing a little cold.
He didn’t wait for me to take the coat. He simply draped it over my shoulders, gave me a small nod, and continued down the trail ahead of me.
I stood there for a moment, processing.
The coat was warm from his body and this time when I shivered, it was with relief.
I began walking again so I didn’t hold up the diplomats, and maneuvered my arms through the sleeves.
The coat was lined with a soft fabric that held heat remarkably well.
It smelled like pine, woodsmoke, and warm spice.
His scent, I realized. The coat smelled like him.
It shouldn’t have been pleasant. It was simply biological data, pheromones and environmental markers, nothing meaningful.
I pulled the coat snugly around me. It was way too big, but the warmth was immediate and welcome. I didn’t care for how welcome it was.
Baleck had moved ahead on the trail, navigating the series of switchbacks that wound down the steeper section of the ridge. From this angle, I had an unobstructed view of his body. Well-used muscles flexed beneath a woven tunic and snug pants. He had a very fine ass.
Irrelevant, I told myself firmly. Completely irrelevant to the mission parameters.
But I kept watching as we descended. Why not? It was right there, after all. I noted the way he moved, the sureness of his footing on the loose stone. He glanced back to check on the group’s progress, caught my eye, and smiled.
I didn’t smile back. I never smiled. But something in my chest did something odd. A flutter, almost. Like a system coming online after a long dormancy.
I ignored it.
The metallic object on the distant ridge was the priority. That was what mattered. Tomorrow morning, Baleck and I would investigate. We would determine what it was and whether it posed a threat. That was the mission. Clear objectives. Defined outcomes.
Everything else was unimportant.
And yet.
I had spent years building walls. Constructing the careful blankness that kept others at a distance, that made me effective at what I did.
I showed nothing because showing anything was a vulnerability.
I said little because words could be used against you.
I kept myself contained, controlled, separate.
Of course, there was more to me than the mask I wore. I had opinions and reactions and yes, even emotions. All of them churning beneath my surface. I simply chose not to display them.
Perhaps that was true of Baleck as well. Perhaps beneath the easy charm and social fluency, there was something more substantial. More complex. He was shockingly perceptive. I may have been too quick to dismiss him as merely smooth.
The thought bothered me more than the cold had.
We reached the valley floor as the first drops of rain began to fall. Sophie let out a dramatic sigh of relief. Vash’s skin shifted to something that might have been the Destran equivalent of annoyance. Baleck looked up at the sky with an expression I couldn’t read.
“Cutting it close,” he said.
“Close is still successful,” I replied.
He looked at me then, really looked, and something flickered in those amber-gold eyes. Interest, maybe. Or reassessment.
“You two.” Sophie swung her finger between Baleck and me. “Vash and I need to speak with you both in my quarters when we get back to the village.”
Baleck’s brows rose. It was a bold request from Sophie, who didn’t command him.
She was my superior, not his. Nor was Vash, for that matter.
Baleck was here by his own choice. He could leave whenever he wished, or if the D’tran kicked him out.
Bottom line was, he didn’t have to do anything she asked, and I waited for him to say so.
Perhaps with a puffed-out chest and some interesting skin color changes.
But Baleck just gave her a small, amused smile, and shrugged. “As you wish, ma’am.”