Chapter 6
BALECK
The symbols burned in my vision even as I tried to look away from them.
Just a designation. A serial number. The kind of mundane identification you’d find on any piece of equipment, any manufactured object. But the language they were written in turned those simple markings into something that made my blood run cold and my skin shift through colors I couldn’t control.
Brakken.
The word echoed in my mind like a death knell.
Memories I’d spent years trying to bury clawed their way to the surface.
The screech of their vehicles. The stench of their weapons.
The bodies of my people, twisted and broken.
I’d been young during the war, but not too young to fight.
Few were, when your enemy wanted nothing less than your complete annihilation.
I’d been trained with a zavat, which was a form of bow used to shoot projectiles.
I was good at it, as was my sister, and to say I was fortunate was an understatement.
My entire family survived the Brakken war.
My sister lived with her mate on Lord Scaron’s Sola.
My mother and father lived on Lord Savair’s, where I was technically a resident.
But I was too much of a wanderer and explorer to settle for long.
All those choices had led me here, to a ravaged planet with a fresh reminder of the horrors I’d seen.
“Baleck.” Iris’s hand tightened on my arm.
It pulled me back from the edge of the dark place I’d been spiraling toward.
Her grip wasn’t gentle, wasn’t soft. It was the hold of someone who understood that sometimes you needed an anchor, not comfort.
“Look at me.” Slender fingers pressed to my cheek and turned my head. “Not the symbols. Look at me.”
I dragged my gaze away from the probe and found her eyes.
Dark brown, nearly black. Intense and unwavering.
She held my gaze without blinking. Her face was close enough that I could see the faint texture of the healed skin on her left cheek, the slight flare of her nostrils, the firm set of her mouth.
She was utterly focused on me, as if nothing else in the world existed except this moment, this connection.
Her fingers felt like they were leaving a brand on my cheek.
My entire world narrowed to her.
The rocky landscape faded. The probe with its Brakken markings became irrelevant. The fear that had been clawing at my chest quieted, replaced by something else entirely. Something warm and overwhelming that I wasn’t prepared for.
I couldn’t imagine anyone more beautiful.
“You’re beautiful,” I said.
The words came out before I could stop them. Before I could think about whether they were appropriate or wise or welcome. They simply emerged, honest and unfiltered, because I was Destran and we didn’t hide what we felt. Our skin betrayed us anyway, so why bother trying?
Iris snatched her hand from my cheek and blinked.
Her lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across features that were usually so carefully controlled.
It was the first crack I’d seen in her composure.
And then, most remarkably, color rose in her face.
A flush that spread up from her jaw to her cheeks, turning the different skin on her cheek a deeper tone.
She was flustered. Actually flustered. The unflappable female was blushing because I’d called her beautiful. Surely someone had called her that before.
The moment lasted only a heartbeat. Then she collected herself. Her expression smoothed back into its familiar neutrality. But the flush remained, and something in her eyes had shifted. Softened, maybe, though that might have been wishful thinking on my part.
“Tell me about the Brakken,” she said, releasing my arm and leaning back. Her voice was steady, professional, but I noticed she didn’t look directly at me. “Why would their probe be here?”
I took a breath and stood up, rubbing my head as I tried to gather my scattered thoughts.
I couldn’t imagine what colors my face was displaying.
Probably a chaotic mess of everything I was feeling, fear and attraction and confusion all swirled together in a pattern that would make no sense to anyone watching.
“The war ended almost nine sun cycles ago,” I began, forcing myself to focus on the question rather than the lingering warmth where her hand had gripped my arm. “Ah. You probably know all about this.”
“From reports.” She shrugged. “Tell me about the Brakken from your perspective.”
“Fine.” I sighed and took a few steps away, needing some space from that probe. “After the humans assisted us in the final battles, the remaining Brakken forces broke into smaller factions and dispersed. Scattered across the galaxy, broken and leaderless.”
I paced a few more steps, needing the movement to help organize my thoughts. Iris watched me with patient, focused attention. No impatient sighs. Just listening.
“For a long time, we thought their aggression was simply…what they were. A violent species bent on conquest and destruction. But the truth was more complicated.” I paused, remembering the revelations that had come after the war.
The ones that had made everything both better and worse.
“Their addiction to lami was the real cause. Or at least, the primary one.”
“Lami,” Iris repeated. “The substance your Solas produce.”
“Yes. It’s essential for Destrans. Nutrition, healing, connection to our ships.
But for other species, it has different effects.
For the Brakken, it was devastatingly addictive.
And that addiction was exploited.” My jaw tightened with old anger.
“There was an opportunistic group. A corrupt human scientist, several members of other advanced species. They fueled the Brakken’s addiction, used it to manipulate them into war against us.
We were obstacles in the way of their access to lami, so we had to be eliminated. ”
“War profiteers,” Iris said flatly. “Using biological addiction as a weapon.”
“Essentially.” I stopped pacing and faced her.
“When we finally settled on the planet we now call home, something changed. The Solas began producing a different type of lami. It has the same nutritional and medical benefits for us and other species, but without the addictive qualities. Without the addiction driving them, without the manipulators pulling their strings, the Brakken threat seemed to be over. Forever.”
“But now you’re wondering if that assessment was wrong.”
I nodded slowly, glancing back at the probe with its damning markings.
“What if they were just waiting? Regrouping in the shadows while we let our guard down?” The possibilities multiplied in my mind, each worse than the last. “The Destran home world was lost to us for untold generations. Storms made it uninhabitable, and we forgot where it was. But now it’s been found.
The storms are ending. The planet is healing. ”
“A vulnerable target,” Iris said, following my logic.
“Exactly. If the Brakken, or even a faction of them, learned about this discovery, they might see an opportunity. A chance to take the original Destran world, to mine it for resources, to find Solas or lami sources we don’t even know about.
” I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of what I was suggesting.
“Or maybe it’s simpler than that. Maybe it’s just revenge.
We destroyed them, after all. Or we thought we did.
Perhaps they’ve been nursing that grudge, waiting for the perfect moment to strike back. ”
Iris was quiet for a moment, processing everything I’d told her. I watched her face, looking for any sign of what she was thinking, but her expression had returned to its usual careful neutrality. The flush had faded from her cheeks, though I could still see a hint of color along her jaw.
“We don’t know anything,” she said finally.
“Not for certain. One probe with Brakken markings doesn’t confirm an invasion or a revenge plot.
It could be a relic from the war, finally landing after years drifting in space.
It could be from a peaceful faction trying to make contact. It could be something else entirely.”
“You’re right.” The rational part of my mind knew she was right. But the part that remembered the war, that still woke sometimes from nightmares of Brakken soldiers tearing through our Sola, wasn’t so easily convinced.
“What we need to do,” Iris continued, her voice taking on that efficient, mission-focused tone I was beginning to recognize, “is document everything. Take all the data back and share it with both human and Destran leadership. Let them analyze it, cross-reference it with their intelligence networks, make informed decisions based on the data.”
I nodded. It was the sensible approach. The professional approach. The approach I would have suggested myself if I hadn’t been too busy slipping into panic and then accidentally telling Iris she was beautiful.
Iris moved to her pack, crouching down to dig through its contents. When she straightened, she was holding a small pouch that I recognized immediately. The sight of it made something twist in my chest.
She held it out to me. “Here.”
I stared at the pouch of lami, then at her face. “Why do you have that?”
She shrugged, the motion almost casual. “In case you needed it.”
Such a simple statement. Such a small gesture. But she had thought about me when she was packing for this trip. Had considered what I might need and had made sure to bring it. This female, who kept everyone at a distance, who showed nothing of what she felt, had packed lami for me.
I took the pouch, my fingers brushing against hers briefly. “Thank you.”
She nodded and turned back to her pack, clearly uncomfortable with this moment of connection. I watched her for a heartbeat, then remembered something.