The transport came to a stop beside a structure that was larger and more ornate than the surrounding buildings. Carved designs covered the stone facade, and the entrance was flanked by what looked like ceremonial weapons mounted in brackets.
“Leadership quarters,” Vikkat explained as we climbed out of the vehicle. “Where you stay. Safe. Comfortable.”
The interior of the building was just as impressive as the exterior. The main chamber was spacious and well-appointed, with furniture that looked handmade but sophisticated. Tapestries covered the walls, and the floors were polished stone inlaid with metal in patterns that reminded me of the genetic markings on D’tran skin.
“Your quarters,” Vikkat said, gesturing toward a passage that led deeper into the building. “Rest. Food comes soon. Clean clothes. Then we talk more.”
He paused, his gaze settling on the pack where I’d stored Explorer Thex-Nol’s data pad. “Data device fromdead traveler. We examine together. Learn what information exists.”
It wasn’t a request. I nodded, understanding that access to that information was part of the price for their hospitality. “Of course. I’ll bring it when we meet.”
“Good.” Vikkat’s expression was satisfied but not threatening. “Later, we show you control room. Contact your people again. Better from here.”
The quarters he’d assigned us were more luxurious than anything I’d expected to find in a fortress carved from rock. There were two separate chambers connected by a common area, each equipped with sleeping arrangements that looked considerably more comfortable than the blankets we’d been using in the tower.
More importantly, there was privacy. The moment the door closed behind Vikkat, leaving Zara and me alone, I felt some of the tension I’d been carrying begin to ease.
“This is incredible,” Zara said, moving to examine the carved designs on the walls. “The level of craftsmanship, the attention to detail—these people have maintained a sophisticated culture despite living under siege conditions for generations.”
“It’s impressive,” I agreed, though my attention was focused on more practical concerns. I moved through the rooms, checking the walls for listening devices, assessing what could be used for weapons. How we could escape if our hosts decided to turn on us.
“Torven.” Zara’s voice carried a note of exasperation. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Being paranoid. These people have shown us nothing but kindness and hospitality.”
“These people have also been hunting Kythrans for generations,” I pointed out. “They’re warriors, Rivers. Survivors of what amounts to planetary genocide. Kind and hospitable doesn’t mean harmless.”
She was quiet for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. “You’re right. I’m letting my excitement override my caution. It’s just…this is the discovery of a lifetime. A completely preserved example of pre-diaspora Destran culture, adapted and evolved in isolation. The anthropological implications alone—”
“Are going to have to wait until we’re safely off this planet,” I finished. “Along with our crew.”
Before she could respond, there was a soft chime from the main chamber. When I opened the door, I found a young D’tran male waiting with a cart loaded with food, clothing, and what looked like personal hygiene supplies.
“From Vikkat,” she said in careful, measured words before departing. “For comfort. For health.”
The food was simple but substantial—some kind of grain-based stew, bread that was still warm from whatever ovens they used, and a pitcher of water that tasted clean and fresh. The clothes were clearly D’tran in design and one outfit appeared to have been hastily altered to fit Zara’s smaller frame.
“This is thoughtful,” Zara said, examining a tunic that looked like it would actually fit her properly. “They must have craftspeople who can work quickly.”
“Or they’ve had practice accommodating smaller species,”I replied, though even as I said it, I realized how that sounded.
“You think they’ve dealt with other crash survivors?”
“I think they’ve been living on this planet for a very long time, and survival sometimes requires difficult choices.”
We ate in comfortable silence, both of us too hungry to maintain conversation. The food was good—hearty and nourishing without being fancy. The kind of practical sustenance that a fortress community would develop out of necessity.
When we’d finished eating, we each took a turn in the small cleaning unit. It was just a narrow box that blasted the body with fine mist after one “washed” with the cleaning oils they’d provided. I knew Zara would have preferred soap, but she didn’t complain. Shedidmake a comment about the coarse-bristled brush that was included, exclaiming that such a thing would take the skin right off her. I agreed, but in light of the D’tran peoples’ thick, hide-like skin, the harsh brush probably felt great for them.
After our bellies were full, bodies were clean, and we’d dressed in our new clothes, I gathered up Explorer Thex-Nol’s data pad and prepared to meet with Vikkat as promised. But as we were about to leave, there was another chime at the door.
This time it was Vikkat himself, accompanied by two other D’tran who had the bearing of advisors or senior staff.
“Ready to share information?” he asked.
My hands tightened on the data pad. We’d made the decision to trust these people with our survival. Holding back information now would be counterproductive. “What was written on this data pad was done so in the languagethat’s now standard for the quadrant. I can read you what it says.”
