Chapter 7
IRIS
The communications center was a repurposed storage room in the guest quarters, cramped with equipment that had been hastily assembled from the supplies left by the diplomatic transport.
Cables snaked across the stone floor. Monitors flickered with data streams. The air smelled of heated electronics and the occasional waft of fresh air from the otherwise lovely D’tran settlement.
I preferred it to the more open and public spaces Rezor had offered us. Here, surrounded by technology I understood, I could focus on the task at hand. However, thoughts could not be stopped and there had been many of them circling my mind since the Raycer ride back.
The images from the probe site uploaded steadily to the secure transmission buffer.
Each one appeared on my monitor before compressing and joining the data packet that would soon be sent to Earth’s leadership and their Destran counterparts.
The probe from multiple angles. Close-ups of the Brakken symbols.
Energy readings. Coordinate data. Everything documented just as it had been drilled into me through years of training.
Behind me, Baleck sat in one of the mismatched chairs.
I could hear him shifting occasionally, the soft rustle of fabric, the quiet tap of his fingers against the armrest. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet since we’d returned.
His usual easy conversation had been replaced by thoughtful silence.
I found the change both unsettling and a relief.
“What do you think they want?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.
I didn’t turn from the monitor. “You mean the Brakken?”
“Yes. Or whoever sent that probe.” His chair creaked as he leaned forward. “If it’s really from them. If they’re really watching this planet. What’s their goal?”
We had talked about this a little bit earlier today when we’d found the probe.
I finished the upload sequence and turned to face him.
He looked tense. The events of the day showed in the rigid line of his shoulders and the muted colors of his skin.
Blues and muddy yellows, mostly. Contemplative and anxious tones, if I was reading him correctly.
“They might not want anything,” I said. “When I briefed Sophie and Vash, they agreed we needed to send what we learned back to Earth and the Destran Solas, but that we were not to assume the worst about this.”
His brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“Not every probe is a prelude to invasion. Not every act of surveillance is hostile.” I leaned back, crossing my arms. “The Brakken were nearly destroyed. Their society collapsed. Their species scattered across the galaxy in fragments. If I were them, I’d want to keep an eye on my old enemies too.”
“Monitoring,” Baleck said slowly, testing the word. “You think they’re just…watching?”
“It’s possible. They know what the Destrans are capable of.
They know what happened when they underestimated you before.
And now there’s us, humans, working with you, too.
Sending probes to track your movements, your expansions, your discoveries is basic intelligence gathering. Defensive rather than offensive.”
“That’s a generous interpretation.”
I shrugged. “We don’t have enough information to assume the worst. Could be a threat. Could be nothing. Could be something in between. Until we know more, speculation is just that. Speculation.”
Baleck was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on some middle distance. Then he nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’m letting my history with them color my analysis.”
“That’s understandable. You lived through the war. You have every reason to be wary.”
“Wary.” A faint smile crossed his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s a soft word for a hard feeling.”
The transmission buffer beeped, indicating the data packet was ready to send.
I turned back to the console and initiated the secure uplink.
The signal would bounce through several relay stations before reaching its destinations, a precaution against interception that added time to the transmission, but was necessary given the sensitivity of the information.
“Done,” I said. “Now we wait. Shouldn’t be long for a reply, though.”
The door to the communications room opened, and Rezor stepped inside.
I’d seen the D’tran leader several times since arriving on this planet, always at a distance, always surrounded by advisors or guards.
Up close, in this cramped space with its harsh artificial lighting, he looked different than I’d expected.
His bronze skin had a dull quality to it, and his color-shifting eyes were muted, cycling through shades of gray and brown that reminded me of storm clouds.
He looked lost. Sad. Weary in a way that went beyond physical exhaustion.
“Is the space adequate for your needs?” he asked, his voice flat.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “Thank you for letting us have this to keep in contact with Destran and human leadership.” Baleck and I had not told Rezor about what we’d found out there, past the valley.
And we wouldn’t, unless we were ordered to.
These people were reeling with enough new elements in their environment.
Mentioning a possible new enemy was not a good idea.
Rezor nodded but didn’t leave. He stood in the doorway, his gaze moving over the equipment, the monitors, the cables, as if searching for something he couldn’t name. “Let me know if you receive news from…” He trailed off, and after a moment, he turned and walked away.
The silence he left behind felt heavy.
“He’s taking it hard,” Baleck said quietly.
I didn’t need to ask what he meant. “Dr. Vasquez.”
“Cleo.” Baleck’s voice softened on the name. “She’s his mate. His true mate. When she decided to return to the Solas with Zara and Maya, it was like watching someone have a piece of themselves cut out.”
I thought about the way Rezor had looked. The hollowness in his eyes. The weight in his movements. It was more than sadness. It was grief. The kind that came from losing something essential.
“Explain that to me,” I said, surprising myself. “The mating system. I‘ve read about it while researching your species, but accounts of the mating bond are clinical. Detached. I want to understand what it actually means.”
Baleck shifted in his chair. His skin flickered with colors I couldn’t interpret.
“For Destrans, true mates are precious, and they don’t happen for everyone.
When we find ours, we know. The bond is written in our biology, marked on our skin.
It’s not something we choose. It’s something that happens to us. ”
“Like an illness?” Because that’s what it sounded like.
He laughed, a short, surprised sound. “Like a revelation. Like suddenly seeing in color when you’ve only ever known shades of gray.
” He paused, considering his words. “The marks usually appear when we first touch our mate, but they can appear at other times. They burn into our skin, permanent and undeniable. And from that moment, everything changes. Our priorities. Our desires. Our very sense of self. The mate becomes central to everything we are.”
“That sounds…” I searched for the right word. “Overwhelming.”
“It is. But also clarifying. There’s no uncertainty. No doubt. You know what you want. You know who you’re meant to be with. The only question is whether they’ll have you.”
I thought about that. The certainty of it. The absolute removal of choice. It was terrifying and appealing in equal measure. More appealing, if I was being honest. To not wonder if you were accepted and supported by a capable mate would be an asset, in my opinion.
“Did Cleo feel the same way?” I asked. “About Rezor? Did she have those feelings for him?”
“Yes.” Baleck’s answer was immediate, confident, and I did my best to ignore how closely he watched me as he spoke.
“Strong feelings. Anyone who saw them together could see it. The way she looked at him. The way she leaned toward him when he spoke. She was falling for him, and falling hard. The mating bond is never one way, even when it’s with humans. ”
“Then why didn’t she stay?” I didn’t understand. If the bond was real, vital, and irrefutable, leaving just didn’t sound like a practical move.
Baleck smiled, and there was deep knowing in his expression. “Aren’t human feelings more complex than binary code? Stay or go. Love or don’t. It’s rarely that simple for your species.”
“True, but from what I’ve learned about your species, rejecting a Destran bond is physically and mentally debilitating,” I countered. “Leaving would create unnecessary suffering.”
“Again, not that simple.” He tapped a finger to his full lower lip, and I did not stare too long at it.
“Cleo has a life beyond this planet. Responsibilities. Relationships. A sense of self that she built long before she ever met Rezor, and scars from her past that make trusting someone difficult. Also, well, Rezor made a mistake and she hadn’t forgiven him when your group appeared in the sky. ”
I frowned. “What did he do?”
“He didn’t let Zara in to see Cleo. He was so used to the valley being closed off to everyone from the outside that he held a little too firm to that line. And, he was probably afraid to lose her.”
“I see no such inflexibility from Rezor.” I raised my brows. “He let her leave without issue. And he has been quite accommodating to us as new arrivals.”
“Yes, because he learned his lesson,” Baleck said. “But Cleo needs time to process and to understand what the bond means for her, not just for him.” He leaned back in his chair, his smile turning softer. “She’ll come back. They’ll be together in the end. I’m certain of it.”
“How can you be certain?” Why was I so invested in the relationship of two people I didn’t—not really—know?