Chapter 8
BALECK
Iblinked at her, certain I’d misheard. “When are we having dinner?”
She raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable as always. “That’s what you asked me before the transmission. I’m answering.”
I hadn’t expected her to say yes. Had braced myself for a polite refusal, or more likely, no response at all, followed by a swift change of subject. But here she was, accepting my invitation as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Right now,” I said with a smile. I stood up and gestured toward the door. “We can go right now.”
I was eager to leave the communications room.
The space was too small, too cramped, too cluttered with equipment that hummed and beeped and smelled too much like the spacecraft that brought me here—specifically, the smell of hot electronics shortly before we had to evacuate.
I’d spent my life on Solas. The vast living ships had endless corridors and chambers.
They breathed and expanded to accommodate their inhabitants.
This room felt like being trapped in a box. Or an escape pod.
Even the busy communal areas of the village felt more comfortable than that technological closet. I wondered if Iris liked it because it was too small for enemies to hide in.
Iris rose from her seat. The Brakken probe discovery weighed heavily on both of us. I could see it in the tension of her shoulders, the way her gaze swept over everything, even in the relative safety of the settlement.
“That went well,” I said dryly.
She shot me a look. “Define ‘well.’”
“No one’s panicking. Orders are clear. We’re not dead.” I stood and stretched, feeling the day’s tension in my muscles. “Could be worse.”
“Could be better.”
“Couldn’t everything?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m ready for this incredible food you keep going on about. You’re sure I’ll be allowed in there?”
“You’re worried about that?”
“I don’t want to enter spaces where I’m not welcome,” she replied. “The D’tran stare at me. A lot.”
I chuckled. “They’re getting accustomed to newcomers. We’re interesting to them.”
She raised her brows. “Very well, then. Lead on.”
I was surprised she’d accepted my invitation. She’d likely been planning to retreat to her quarters with more of those awful ration bars. But I’d seen her eyeing the communal meals with something that looked almost like longing, even if she’d never admit it.
“I’m glad you accepted my invitation,” I said, in case she was thinking of backing out. “If we’re going to work together, you need to actually experience D’tran culture. Food is a big part of that.”
The evening air was cool as we stepped outside, carrying the scent of cooking fires and the distant sound of voices.
The walk to the communal hall was short.
Evening was settling over the valley, the air cooling but still pleasant.
I noticed the way Iris scanned our surroundings constantly, her enhanced eye tracking movement and potential threats.
“Do you ever stop?” I asked.
“Stop what?”
“Assessing. Looking for danger.”
She was quiet for a moment. “No.”
“Must be exhausting.”
“It’s kept me alive.”
I couldn’t argue with that. But I wondered what it cost her, being always on guard. Never able to just…be.
The sun had begun its descent toward the mountains, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
I led Iris through the winding streets, past stone buildings with their curved windows and salvaged metal supports.
People nodded as we passed, some calling out greetings that I returned with waves and smiles.
The communal eating hall was located near the center of the village, in one of the largest structures the D’tran had built. As we approached, the sounds of conversation and music spilled out through the open doorways, warm and inviting.
We stepped inside, and the tension in my shoulders eased.
The space was magnificent. High ceilings, supported by wooden beams and metal struts, created a sense of openness within the building’s stone walls. Bioluminescent panels cast a warm glow over everything, softer than the harsh artificial light in the communications room.
The smells hit me next. Roasted vegetables with herbs I couldn’t name. Fresh bread, still warm from the ovens. Something savory and rich that made my mouth water and my stomach growl in anticipation. The D’tran knew how to cook. That had been one of the most pleasant surprises of my time here.
The dining area was bustling. Long tables were filled with D’tran families, and the air was thick with conversation and laughter.
In one corner, a D’tran male sat on a low stool, his fingers moving across the strings of an instrument I’d never seen before arriving on this planet.
The music was haunting and beautiful, a melody that rose and fell like waves against a shore.
Several children sat at his feet, watching with rapt attention.
I saw Iris stiffen slightly at the noise and chaos. Too many people. Too many variables.
“It’s just dinner,” I said quietly. “No threats here.”
She looked at me, and I saw something vulnerable flash across her face before she locked it down. “I know that.”
But did she, really?
We approached the kitchen area, where several D’tran worked behind a thick stone counter, ladling food into bowls and slicing bread with practiced efficiency.
The male at the front, Foril, recognized me and smiled, his eyes cycling to a warm orange.
“Greetings, Baleck! You’ve brought a human friend. ”
I led Iris over, noting how she moved with that controlled grace even in a crowded dining hall. Foril was already ladling thick soup into two bowls.
“This is Iris,” I said. “Iris, this is Foril. He’s going to feed you actual food instead of those ration bars you’ve been eating.”
Foril grinned. “Ration bars! Terrible things. Here, try this.” He added something that looked like seasoned bread to the top of her bowl.
Iris accepted it all with a stiff nod, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. I grabbed my own bowl and started toward a quiet corner, far enough from the families that we’d have some privacy. Of course, we had to actually get to the table, and I knew a lot of people here.
“Baleck!” a voice called.
I turned to see Korin, one of Rezor’s engineers, waving from a nearby table. His eyes shifted through warm yellows and oranges, the D’tran equivalent of a friendly greeting.
I waved back. “Good evening, Korin. How’s your daughter?”
“Growing too fast.” He laughed, gesturing to the small female beside him who was more interested in playing with her food than eating it. “She’ll be running the village before we know it.”
More greetings followed as we made our way through the hall.
D’tran I’d met during my weeks here, workers and guards and craftspeople who had slowly warmed to the strange sky person who asked so many questions and seemed genuinely interested in their answers.
Each one acknowledged me with a wave or a word, and I responded in kind.
“You’ve made quite an impression here,” Iris observed, her voice low.
“I’ve tried.” I glanced at her, pleased by the comment, even if her tone was neutral. “Building connections is what I do. And the D’tran have been generous with their time and knowledge. They’re good people.”
“Hmm.” She didn’t elaborate, but I thought I saw something flicker in her dark eyes. Curiosity, maybe. Or reassessment.
We made it to the far end of one of the long tables. This corner was quieter, more private, away from the main clusters of D’tran families sharing their meals. Iris didn’t seem comfortable in crowds, and I wanted her to be at ease.
We sat across from each other, the warm bowls of soup steaming between us. The music drifted over, softer now, a gentle backdrop to the murmur of conversation throughout the hall.
But Iris sat looking at her bowl like it might be booby-trapped.
“It’s safe,” I assured her. “I’ve eaten here dozens of times.”
“I’m not worried about poison.” She picked up a piece of the bread and took a small bite. I watched her eyes widen fractionally as flavor hit her tongue.
“Good?” I asked.
“It’s…” She took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Yes. It’s good.”
I started on my own food, giving her space to experience it without my commentary. I dipped my bread into the soup and took a bite, closing my eyes as the flavors burst across my tongue. Rich and earthy, with a hint of something sweet underneath. Delicious.
“You really enjoy that.”
I opened my eyes to find Iris watching me with an expression that might have been amusement. Or curiosity. Hard to tell with her.
“I do,” I admitted, taking another bite. “Everything they make here is incredible.”
“I thought Destrans didn’t eat food like other species.” She stirred her own soup, her movements precise and controlled. “All the briefings said you consume lami as your primary nutrition.”
“That’s true. Lami is our main food source on Solas.
It provides everything we need, nutritionally speaking.
Some Destrans never eat solid food at all.
” I tore off another piece of bread and dunked it in the soup.
“But we can eat. Our bodies easily process other foods. We just don’t usually have reason to. ”
“So what changed?”
“Cleo, Mierva, and I were stranded on this planet for cycles before the rescue team arrived. There was no lami. We had to eat their food, or starve.” I smiled at the memory.
“At first, it was strange. The textures and flavors were unfamiliar, but we adapted. And then I discovered that I actually liked it. Different flavors, different experiences. There’s something satisfying about a good meal that lami doesn’t quite replicate. ”
Iris nodded slowly, processing this. Then she said, “I’ve heard that lami tastes like whatever food you love most.”