Chapter 9
IRIS
Afull day with Baleck. Two days after my pleasant dinner with Baleck, that’s what Sophie had arranged, citing the need for me to “fully understand D’tran culture and territory for comprehensive security assessments.”
I knew better than to think Sophie was matchmaking.
Most of my feedback from her and my other superiors included things about how I do not integrate into my surroundings.
Recommendations included never putting me on missions that involve an operative blending in.
This exercise today was likely an effort at training me. Whatever. Orders were orders.
I met him at the settlement edge just after dawn, where he waited with a small packed bag and that easy smile that was starting to do inconvenient things to my pulse.
“Ready for the grand tour?” he asked.
“Define grand.”
“I’m going to show you parts of the valley you haven’t seen yet. Areas being reclaimed. How the D’tran are rebuilding.” He started walking and I fell into step beside him. “Plus I packed lunch.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” He glanced at me, his skin shifting to warm amber. “Can’t have my cultural liaison partner subsisting on ration bars.”
“I’m your partner now?”
“Would you prefer ‘assignment’?” he asked with that grin.
“I’d prefer ‘temporary arrangement.’” This was my attempt at light teasing, but I shouldn’t. I knew I really shouldn’t. My jokes never landed.
Nevertheless, he laughed, and the sound was genuine and warm. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
We walked through the valley, following paths that wound between reclaimed fields and areas where young plants pushed through storm-ravaged soil. Baleck explained the irrigation system the D’tran had built, pointing out the cleverness of their design.
I found myself actually interested, despite my initial resistance. The way they’d begun to adapt to post-storm conditions, using salvaged materials and ancient knowledge to rebuild. It was impressive.
“Here,” Baleck said, leading me to where a group of D’tran were carefully harvesting nuts from a thick bush with mean-looking thorns.
“They’re picking tauki nuts. These plants are very resilient, and some of these seedlings have just been planted in a test area outside the valley.
The nuts are highly nutritious, and delicious when roasted. ”
I watched them work—coordinated, efficient, avoiding thorns like the pros they were. One of the D’tran called out to Baleck, and he answered in fluent D’tran. The easy way he switched between languages, how naturally he belonged here, made something twist in my chest.
I didn’t belong anywhere. Never had.
We continued on, cresting a ridge that gave us a view of the entire valley. From up here, I could see two settlements—Rezor’s, and the distant outline of another, far to the north.
Baleck must have seen where I was looking and pointed toward the imposing stone wall that surrounded a sturdy-looking village.
One that he could not make out clearly with his eyes, but I could with mine.
“Way out there is Vikkat’s compound. Rezor and Vikkat lead the last known surviving D’tran settlements.
Vikkat is a good leader,” he said with an approving nod.
“Had he not saved Zara and Torven during the storms, the weather towers would still be producing those deadly storms.”
I took in the northern compound with a wince.
It was exposed to the elements, protected only by massive walls and domes that likely had needed constant maintenance to hold back the rain and powerful winds.
Vikkat’s people had not enjoyed the shelter of the valley.
“In my briefs, it said that despite both being plagued by deadly weather, the two leaders had not been allies.”
“True,” Baleck replied. “Each faction had fiercely protected what resources they had. Now, they’re working toward a new future for their people together.
Not the easiest thing for two fiercely independent, self-sustaining cultures, but given time, it will happen.
Both Rezor and Vikkat are intelligent, rational leaders who want the best for their people. ”
“It’s bigger than I thought,” I admitted, then waved a hand. “The planet, I mean. Not the settlement.”
Baleck sat on a flat rock, patting the space beside him.
“Oh, yes. It’s massive. Mostly unexplored since the storms. We’ve barely scratched the surface.
” His gaze scanned the horizon with an almost eager gleam.
“It’s hard for me to imagine my people living here. That this is the Destran home world.”
I sat, maintaining a careful few inches between us. “That’s a lot to process. The challenges are overwhelming. How does it feel to knowing there’s so much unknown out there?”
“Exciting.” He leaned back on his hands, face tilted to the sun. “You?”
“Tactical nightmare.” I thought about the probe we saw and the countless questions it asked. “Can’t secure what you can’t map.”
“Always thinking about security.”
“It’s my job.”
“Is it?” He turned to look at me. “Or is it your armor?”
I tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” But his eyes said differently. “Just an observation.”
We sat in silence for a while. I told myself to get up, move on, maintain professional distance. Instead I stayed put, hyperaware of how close he was. How his skin shifted through contented blues and greens. How good he smelled—like sun-warmed stone and some spice that was uniquely him.
“We should keep moving,” I said, not moving.
“We should.” He didn’t move either.
Our eyes met. Held. Something electric passed between us that had nothing to do with Brakken probes or cultural liaisons or anything except the undeniable pull I felt whenever he was near.
Then a group of children crested the ridge, running and laughing, and the moment broke.
Baleck stood and offered me his hand. This time I took it, let him pull me up. His palm was warm and calloused, his grip firm but gentle. When I was standing, he didn’t immediately let go.
“Iris—”
“Where to next?” I interrupted, pulling my hand free.
If he was disappointed, his colors didn’t show it. He just smiled and led the way down the other side of the ridge.
We spent the midday exploring a section of the valley that was thick with established native species.
There were fewer people here. Mostly guards, keeping an eye out for predators, and even they were protected here.
Baleck explained that the D’tran had never given up hope that the storms would end one day.
They’d maintained the delicate balance of nature, as well as they could, inside the sanctuary of the mountains.
It was looking more and more possible that the species living here would be able to roam freely again.
Back inside the shelter of the village, where those low stone walls were apparently enough of a deterrent for the predators that did roam the forests to not cross into the D’tran village, we paused by a small grove of fruit trees with a couple benches.
It was a pretty spot to rest. A little D’tran female approached shyly, holding out a small carved figure.
She said something in D’tran, her eyes shifting to hopeful yellows as she looked up at Baleck.
He crouched down to her level, accepting the gift with obvious pleasure. He said something that made her giggle, then gently touched her head before she ran back to her family.
I watched him stand, turning the carved figure over in his hands. It was a simple thing, rough but heartfelt.
“What did she say?” I asked.
“She made it for me. To say thank you for helping her father fix their water channel last week.” He looked at the figure with something soft in his expression. “She’s seven. She wants to visit the stars one day.”
Something in my chest clenched. “You’re good with them. The children.”
“They’re easy. No pretense. No walls.” He glanced at me meaningfully.
“Some of us need walls.”
“And some of us use them to hide.”
I wanted to argue, but he’d already moved on, pointing out something about the power system like we hadn’t just had an uncomfortably honest exchange.
We found a spot for lunch near a stream, where new grass grew thick enough to sit on. Baleck unpacked food—real food, not synthesized rations. Bread, fruit, some kind of preserved meat, and cheese.
“Where did you get cheese?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
“The D’tran have begun trading with a Destran supply ship. Small luxuries are starting to appear.” He handed me a piece. “Try it.”
I did. It was good. Really good. I may have made a sound that was borderline obscene.
Baleck’s skin flashed vivid gold and he quickly looked away. “Glad you like it.”
We ate in comfortable near-silence, broken only by occasional observations about the valley or the rebuilding efforts. But I was acutely aware of him beside me. The way sunlight caught the amber tones in his eyes. How his hands moved when he talked. The breadth of his shoulders under his shirt.
I was staring. I needed to stop staring.
“Iris,” he said quietly.
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
I tensed. “Depends on the question.”
“Do you ever think about the future? Beyond your next mission?”
The question caught me off guard. “No.”
“Why not?”
Because planning for a future I might not live to see seemed pointless. Because I’d learned young not to get attached to possibilities. Wanting things I couldn’t have only led to disappointment.
“It’s not productive,” I said instead.
“But it is human.” He rolled his shoulders. “At least, from what I’ve observed of them.”
“I’m not like most humans.”
“No.” He looked at me, and the intensity in his gaze made my breath catch. “You’re not.”
We stared at each other. I saw the moment he decided to push forward, saw it in the shift of his colors to determined oranges.
“Would you have dinner again with me?” he asked. “Not as liaison and operative this time. As Baleck and Iris.”
My heart felt like it just stopped right there in my chest. Like everything inside me just went still and silent.
“Tomorrow,” he added. “At the communal hall. Just us.”
I knew I should say no. I should forget out that hug, and his words, and maintain boundaries. I should protect us both from the inevitable complications. “Okay,” I heard myself say.
His face lit up, skin blazing gold. “Really?”
“Don’t make me regret it.” I narrowed my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile from curving my lips. I liked him, damn it.
“I won’t.” He was grinning now, boyish and hopeful and so beautiful it hurt to look at him. “Tomorrow evening. I’ll meet you at your quarters?”
“Fine.”
We packed up lunch and continued the tour, but something had shifted between us. I caught him looking at me more openly now, caught myself doing the same. When we navigated rough terrain, his hand found my elbow or lower back. I didn’t pull away.
By the time we returned to my building, the sun was setting and I was exhausted in the best way. Not from danger or combat, but from a full day of experiencing something beyond duty.
At my quarters, he lingered. “Thank you for today.”
“No thanks necessary,” I said. “I had a good time.”
He laughed. “High praise from Iris Larivee.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture gentle and intimate. “See you tomorrow?”
I couldn’t speak, just nodded. His fingers lingered against my cheek for a heartbeat before he pulled away and left.
I went inside and stood against the closed door for a full minute, my hand pressed to where he’d touched my face.
I was in so much trouble.