Chapter 6
Rezor
The forest beyond the village wall was too quiet.
I crouched in the underbrush, weapon drawn, scanning the dense foliage for any sign of movement.
The report had been clear: a hyaja, large and aggressive, spotted near the eastern perimeter just after dawn.
The tracks I’d found confirmed it. Deep gouges in the soft earth, spaced wide enough to indicate a mature male. Dangerous.
Hyaja were apex predators, all muscle and teeth on four fast legs.
They had jaws strong enough to crush bone and a hunting instinct that made them relentless once they’d marked prey.
Most stayed deep in the forest, away from settled areas.
But sometimes, driven by hunger or sickness, one would venture too close to the village.
When that happened, we hunted it. Before it decided to hunt us.
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of pine and dirt. No musk of hyaja, no sound of its heavy breathing. Either it had moved on, or it was downwind, watching me the way I was watching for it.
I shifted my grip on the blade, muscles tense. My marks pulsed with the low heat that came with danger, with focused attention. Not the blazing fire they became around Cleo, but a steady warmth that reminded me I was alive, alert, ready.
Cleo.
I’d been avoiding thinking about her. Had been avoiding her entirely, in fact, for the past two cycles.
After the tour of the village, after showing her the grow facility and watching her eyes light up with genuine appreciation, I’d made myself scarce.
Given her space to settle. Given myself space to think.
That’s what I told myself, anyway.
The truth was more complicated. The truth was that every time I was near her, my marks burned and my thoughts scattered and I found myself watching the way she moved, the way she argued, the way she challenged me without fear, despite being half my size and completely at my mercy.
It was distracting. Dangerous, even. I had a village to protect, a prophecy hanging over our heads, and a military commander who thought the best solution was to exile or execute our visitors before they could fulfill whatever doom the seers foresaw.
I couldn’t afford to be distracted by an alien female whose presence made my sacred marks behave in impossible ways.
So I’d stayed away. Assigned guards to watch them, received regular reports on their movements, made sure they were fed and comfortable and supervised. But I hadn’t sought them out. Hadn’t allowed myself to be drawn back to Cleo’s presence.
The reports, at least, were reassuring. Cleo and Baleck had been exploring the village during permitted hours, speaking with anyone willing to talk to them.
There weren’t many, but the aliens were curious, and they were learning our ways, our language, our customs. Cleo’s translator device was working remarkably well.
According to the guards, she now spoke near-fluent D’tran, though her accent remained distinct.
She’d been to the grow facility three times.
Just wandering around in there, apparently, studying the systems. Taking mental notes.
The engineers who worked there reported that she’d asked intelligent questions about water flow, nutrient distribution, and climate control.
Questions they couldn’t always answer, because much of what we’d built was salvaged and repurposed without full understanding of the original design.
Baleck had focused his efforts on the communal areas. The market, the workshops, the kitchen. Talking to people, learning names, making himself useful where he could. Several villagers had commented that he was pleasant, for an alien. High praise, considering.
And Mierva, recovering in their quarters, had apparently spent her waking hours asking the guards at her door about D’tran history and culture. The guards reported that she asked insightful questions about our isolation, our relationship with the land, our survival strategies.
They were adapting. Learning. Trying to understand us.
It should have been reassuring. Instead, it just made the situation more complicated.
A sharp whistle cut through the forest. I turned to see Vax standing at the wall’s edge, one hand raised in the signal for urgent summons.
The hyaja would have to wait.
I moved through the underbrush with practiced silence, covering the distance to the wall in moments. Vax’s expression was grim. His eyes were a troubled dark red.
“What is it?” I asked, scaling the wall with easy movements.
“Water system.” He fell into step beside me as we headed back toward the village center. “One of the purifiers failed. The engineers can’t figure out why.”
I swore under my breath. We had three water purification systems serving the village, all salvaged from the tower ruins and repurposed over countless cycles.
Losing one wasn’t catastrophic, but it put strain on the others.
And if we couldn’t fix it quickly, we’d need to implement rationing. “Which one?”
“Eastern sector. The system that serves the market.” Vax’s jaw was tight. “The engineers say it’s beyond their ability to repair. Too much ancient technology they don’t understand.”
Ancient technology. Off-world systems that our ancestors had adapted but never fully comprehended.
We kept them running thanks to our “engineers,” which was a generous term.
Those who worked on the old tech knew how to operate and repair only as they had been shown by their predecessor, and much knowledge had been lost over the generations.
All it took was a little sloppiness, forgetfulness, and sometimes an untimely death, for key mechanisms to become enigmas.
Even after records began to be kept, our engineers were limited in what they could do with devices and systems designed and made for other species and purposes.
When something went wrong that we couldn’t fix through standard procedures, we were helpless until trial and error, and more than a little luck, enabled our engineers to bring a disabled device back to life.
The water systems were some of the most complex.
It would take many cycles to find out what had gone wrong, unless…
I’m an engineer. I’m trying to understand how everything works.
“Bring the human, Cleo, to the purification station,” I said, the decision forming even as I spoke it.
Vax stopped walking. His eyes flashed from red to black. “What?”
“You heard me. The human female. She’s an engineer. She has knowledge of technology beyond our understanding.” I met his stare evenly. “Ask her to look at the system.”
“Absolutely not.” He moved to block my path, which took courage. Few challenged me directly, even when they disagreed. “Lord Rezor, we don’t know what she’ll do. She could sabotage it. Make things worse.”
“She could.” I stepped around him, continuing toward the eastern district. “Or she could fix it. And I’ll be watching her every move.”
“This is madness. The council will never approve using an outsider for something so critical to our survival.”
“The council does not rule this clan. I do. The female and her crew have shown no signs of malice and I want that system functioning now.” I glanced back at him. “Unless you have a better solution?”
He didn’t. We both knew it.
“Get her,” I ordered.
Vax looked like he wanted to argue more. But after a moment, he inclined his head. His eyes flashed black, showing displeasure even as he obeyed and turned toward the guest quarters.
I continued to the purification station. It was a low building near the eastern wall that housed the filtration systems. Several of my best engineers were gathered around the main unit, tools spread out, expressions frustrated.
“Lord Rezor.” The lead engineer, a weathered male named Korin, looked up as I entered. “We’ve tried everything we know. The system just won’t engage. Something in the core processing unit has failed, but we can’t access it without risking damage to the entire array.”
I studied the system, the familiar tangle of pipes and crystalline components that we’d salvaged and integrated over generations of careful work. It hummed with residual power but produced no water, the flow completely stopped.
“Show me what you’ve tried,” I said, and listened as Korin walked me through their troubleshooting attempts.
None of it had worked. And from what I could see, they’d exhausted their knowledge of the system’s function.
Which confirmed we needed someone with different knowledge.
The door opened behind me. I turned to find Vax leading Cleo into the station, flanked by two guards. Cleo’s eyes immediately went to the purification system, her expression shifting from wary curiosity to focused interest.
She looked rested. Well-fed. Her hair was pulled back in a practical knot, and the borrowed clothing—made for children—fit her small figure well. When her eyes met mine, even from across the room, I felt my marks flare with heat.
“Lord Rezor,” she said, her D’tran now smooth and nearly accentless. “Vax said you needed an engineer?”
“Our water purification system has failed.” I gestured to the unit. “My engineers can’t determine the cause. You have knowledge of advanced technology that might be useful.”
“You want me to fix it.” It wasn’t a question. Her gaze moved back to the system, already assessing. “What have they tried?”
Korin bristled slightly at being bypassed, but repeated the troubleshooting steps for her benefit. Cleo listened, nodding occasionally, her eyes never leaving the system.
Then she moved closer, her hands already reaching for the access panels.
“May I?” she asked, glancing back at me.
I nodded and gestured to the machine, sending a warning glance to the others. They would not interfere unless they wanted a strong challenge.