These people might be related to Destrans, might even be genuine allies, but they were also larger, stronger, and more heavily armed than either Zara or myself. Even the two D’tran females were built like warriors, with muscle definition that suggested they were just as strong and capable as their male counterparts.
And Zara, brilliant as she was, seemed completely oblivious to the potential danger. She was practically vibrating with scientific excitement, her voice muffled but animated as she talked about linguistic connections.
“The etymology is fascinating,” she said, leaning closer so I could hear her over the rumble of the transport’s engine. “D’tran, Destran—the root words are clearly related. It suggests a common origin.”
“Mm-hmm,” I replied, my attention focused on the D’tran warrior sitting across from us. He was cleaning what looked like an energy weapon with casual efficiency, the kind of practiced maintenance that spoke of extensive combat experience.
“And the grammatical structures,” Zara continued, apparently not noticing my distraction. “The simplified syntax could be evolutionary drift, or it could be the result of environmental pressures that favored rapid, clear communication over complex linguistic constructions.”
“Very interesting,” I said, watching as another D’tran checked the charge on what was definitely a military-grade blaster.
“Torven, you’re not listening to me.”
I turned to look at her, seeing my own reflection in the lenses of her breathing mask. “Yes, I am. Linguistic evolution, environmental pressures, common origins.”
She tilted her head, studying me with that analytical expression I was learning to recognize, even through protective gear. “You’re worried.”
“I’m cautious,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“These people haven’t shown any hostility toward us. They offered us shelter, protection, assistance in finding our crew.”
“They’re also armed to the teeth and could kill us both without breaking a sweat.” I gestured subtly toward the weapon maintenance happening around us. “I’m not saying they will. I’m just staying theycan.” I rolled my shoulders. “I don’t like that.”
Zara was quiet for a moment, then reached over and squeezed my hand through the thick leather of her glove. “Your protective instincts are in overdrive because of the mating bond.”
She was right, though I wasn’t about to admit it out loud. The constant low-level anxiety, the hyperawareness of every potential threat, the overwhelming need to position myself between Zara and anything that might harm her—it was all textbook mate-bonding behavior according to the stories my father had told me about Destran warriors and their partners.
“Maybe,” I said grudgingly. “But that doesn’t mean caution isn’t warranted.”
The transport hit a particularly rough patch of terrain, and I automatically reached out to steady Zara as she bounced on the bench. Through the contact, I could feel the rapid beat ofher pulse and realized she wasn’t quite as calm as she was pretending to be.
“How much farther?” I called to Vikkat, who was seated near the front of the vehicle.
“Not far. See soon.”
True to his word, within minutes, the transport began to slow as we approached what looked like a natural rock formation rising from the barren landscape. But as we drew closer, I could see that the formation was anything but natural. The stone had been shaped, carved, and reinforced with metal supports that created a seamless blend of architecture and geology. We’d reached our destination.
Two massive doors sealed the fortress entrance. They were at least three times my height and thick enough to withstand a siege. They opened with a grinding rumble. Powerful mechanical systems had to lie hidden within the stone as the doors opened to reveal the interior of what could only be described as a miniature city.
The main chamber was vast, carved from the rock and supported by arches that soared overhead like the ribs of some enormous creature. But it wasn’t empty stone—the space teemed with life. D’tran moved through the passages with purpose, some carrying tools or supplies, others tending to what looked like hydroponic gardens built into alcoves along the walls.
“It’s incredible,” Zara breathed, pressing her face to the narrow, scratched window beside our bench. “Look at the engineering required to create something like this.”
I followed her gaze and felt something shift in my chest that had nothing to do with protective instincts. The fortress—for that’s what it clearly was—reminded me of something. The way the passages were carved into the rock, the organic flow of the structures, the integration of living spaces with natural formations.
It looked like a Sola.
Not exactly, of course. This was stone and metal where a Sola would be living tissue and crystal. But the underlying organizational principles were the same. Central chambers connected by branching passages, larger spaces for communal activities, smaller alcoves for privacy. It was as if someone had taken the blueprint for a Sola and adapted it for a different medium.
Was this how my ancestors lived? Before the Solas, before the great journey to find new worlds, had ancient Destrans built cities like this?
There were lights everywhere, not the harsh glare of emergency illumination, but a warm, steady glow that reminded me of late afternoon sunlight. The technology required to power all of this must have been considerable, especially given the hostile environment outside.
“Look at that,” Zara whispered, pulling off her breathing mask as the others did the same. The air inside was clean and fresh, with none of the acrid tang that characterized the outside atmosphere. “The population density, the infrastructure, the social organization—this is a fully functioning civilization.”
She was right. As our transport moved deeper into the fortress, I could see D’tran of all ages and builds. Children who couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years old played in sheltered courtyards while elders watched fromcarved benches. Warriors like the ones who’d escorted us moved with casual confidence through passages that clearly served as both transportation routes and social gathering spaces.
But what struck me most was the complete lack of hostility. Everyone we passed looked at us with obvious curiosity, but not fear or suspicion. Children waved from doorways. Adults nodded politely as we passed. This was a society confident enough in its defenses to welcome strangers without immediate paranoia. Also, they had to have great faith in their leader to know he wouldn’t bring an enemy into their stronghold.
