I rolled my eyes, having no patience for posturing when there was a far more important thing happening. “Do you know where these marks came from?” I asked. “What is their origin?”
Vikkat gave a deep sigh and crossed his arms. “Marked into our blood by oppressors. Long, many suns ago. Used to sort us. Control us. We learned to read what they wrote in us.”
I felt like my brain was about to explode with the implications. The mating marks weren’t just biological phenomena—they were some kind of ancient technological language embedded in the genetics of both of these peoples. This was bigger than evolutionary divergence. This was evidence of outside interference in the development of an entire species.
“Who were the oppressors?” I asked, barely able to contain my excitement. “What did they want? How long ago did this happen?”
Vikkat shrugged one shoulder. “Generations. Thousands. No memory. Just story.”
Before I could ask another question, Torven slowly bent down and placed the metal piece on the floor. “Thank you, Vikkat,” he said, standing up and showing his empty hands. “We mean no harm here. We would like to find our people and go home. Do you know where our crew is located?”
Vikkat shook his head. “No. Other regions. Other D’tran territory.”
“The tower we’re in,” I said, ignoring Torven’s warning growl. “What do you know about it?”
“Weather control station. One of many. All connected.”Vikkat’s expression darkened. “Sky-stealers built towers. Made weather weapons. Turned our world into death place.”
“The Kythrans,” Torven said grimly. “You know about them?”
“Know? We hunt them. Search everywhere. Most dead now. But towers still work. Still poison sky. Still kill land.” Vikkat’s frustration was evident in the harsh edge to his voice. “We try everything. Cannot stop machines. Make worse when we try.”
“Why do you think that is?” I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.
“Need Kythran blood markers. Genetic keys. We have none. Machines ignore D’tran commands.”
That confirmed what we’d already suspected from Explorer Thex-Nol’s data, but also told us that the weather control system was biometrically locked to prevent tampering by anyone without Kythran DNA.
“We found records about the towers,” Torven said. “The Kythrans—thesky-stealers—lost control of their own system. It’s been malfunctioning for decades, maybe centuries.”
Vikkat’s eyes flashed. “You have information about sky-stealer machines?”
“Yes,” I said. “But even with this knowledge, we haven’t been able to shut down the storms. Everything is locked.”
The other D’tran had remained silent during our conversation, but I could see them listening intently. There were two who appeared slightly smaller than the rest, but were still formidably built. The swell of what could be breasts made me wonder if they were females.
“What areyoudoing here?” Torven asked. “Besides hunting Kythrans?”
“Survival. Same as you.” Vikkat gestured to his companions. “We live in fortress. Safe from poison air. Safe from weather storms. When we detected ship crash, hoped to find sky-stealers. Instead find…” He cocked his head and paused, as if searching for words. “Find lost family.”
The way he said it sent chills down my spine.Family. These people saw Destrans as family, separated by time and distance and the catastrophic manipulation of their genetics by an alien species.
“Your people,” I said slowly. “How many of you are there?”
“Few thousand in fortress. More scattered in other places. Most died when sky-stealers made world poison.” His expression was grim. “We endure. We survive. We wait for chance to stop towers and clean sky.”
I looked at Torven, seeing my own thoughts reflected in his expression. We were talking about the remnants of an entire civilization, survivors of what amounted to planetary genocide. And they’d been fighting alone against impossible odds for longer than either of us could imagine.
Vikkat’s expression turned speculative. “You said you have information. What kind?”
Torven and I exchanged glances. We were about to reveal everything we’d learned to people we’d known for less than an hour. But what choice did we have? If the D’tran were really our best hope of understanding and possibly stopping the weather control system, we needed to establish trust.
“We found the personal logs of another crash survivor,”Torven said. “Someone who translated some of the archived data. We know about the original purpose of the towers, the loss of control, the attempts to shut down the system.”
“We also know that our crew—our people—are scattered in three groups across this planet,” I added. “We can’t reach them safely while the weather patterns are unstable.”
Vikkat nodded slowly. “Dangerous to travel. Storms kill quickly. Acid rain burns.”
“You mentioned a fortress,” I said. “Is it safe there?”
