“My chambers. Where we can speak alone.”
Baleck said something sharp, his skin flashing with bright colors. It made me wonder if he was Cleo’s mate, but something told me he wasn’t. For one thing, they sat on separate beds. Cleo responded in their language, her tone reassuring despite the wariness in her expression. Then she stood, moving with careful deliberation.
“Fine. But you no try anything.” Her finger pointed at my chest, right where my marks were. “I find way…make you regret.”
The threat would have been more impressive if she wasn’t half my size and still shivering with residual cold. My lips twitched, but I respected her courage. It was either that orfoolishness, to stand up to someone who had every advantage.
“Noted,” I said dryly, and led her from the room.
My private chambers were on the third floor of the compound, with windows that overlooked the valley and gave me a clear view of the mountains beyond. The space was functional rather than decorative. A sleeping platform, a workspace with maps and supply inventories, shelves filled with books and records.
Cleo entered cautiously. Her eyes cataloged everything. She spotted the weapons on the wall, the strategic maps, the stacks of old data pads that no one knew how to access anymore.
“Sit,” I said, gesturing to one of the chairs near the workspace.
She remained standing. “I fine here.”
Of course she was. I moved to lean against the desk instead, putting some distance between us. The marks on my chest pulsed with warmth, protesting the space.
“Your translation ability,” I started. “How does it work?”
Her hand moved reflexively to the spot behind her right ear. “Technology. Implant in skull bone. Learns languages. Translates.”
“Technology implanted in your body?” The concept was foreign but fascinating. “All of your kind have this?”
“No. Just those who…explore. Expect encounter different species.” She tilted her head. “You have that?”
“We don’t.” I studied her, trying to reconcile her small stature with the courage and intelligence I’d seen. “Your species is different from your companions. You’re not relatedto…?” I gestured vaguely at my arms, trying to find words for the color-shifting beings like Baleck and Mierva.
“Destrans,” she supplied. “They Destrans. I am human. From planet Earth. Destrans and humans… Allies.” She paused. “You don’t know Destrans? They from this planet.”
I nodded. “I cannot miss the similarities. There are old stories. Legends of sky people who fled in living ships during the time of great chaos. Those who left while others stayed behind and adapted.” I touched my chest. “We are D’tran. Descendants of those who remained.”
Her eyes widened slightly, as if pleased and surprised that I had the capacity to grasp this. “Yes. Related to Destrans. Evolved differently.”
“It would seem so.” I moved closer, drawn by curiosity and that inexplicable pull. “These Destrans. They still live in the sky?”
“They live in Solas. Living ships. Very big. On moon far away. They built civilization there.” She met my gaze directly. The skin around her eyes was strained, making me wonder what toll this translation device was taking on her. “We explore this world. Where your shared ancestors came from before war.”
War. So apparently our cousins had not had it any easier in space than we’d had it down here. And now people from that lost civilization had returned, bringing with them technology and knowledge we’d lost countless cycles ago. Spacecraft. Devices put inside the head that could translate languages. And that was likely just a tiny fraction of what they knew. Of what discoveries they could share with us.
Either they were our salvation or our doom. And I had no way of knowing which.
I stepped closer without thinking, needing to understand. “Your companions. Baleck and Mierva. You’re their…ally? Friend?”
“Colleague. Friend.” She shrugged. “Work together. Study planets together. Until ship caught in storms and we evacuate in pods.”
I was close enough now that I could see the pulse at her throat, the way her breathing had quickened. My marks burned hotter. I couldn’t help it. Every time I got near her, every time I touched her…
I reached out and grasped her shoulder gently, trying to emphasize my next point. “How many others survived? How many might come looking for you?”
The marks blazed bright enough that both of us looked down at my chest. The intricate patterns were just visible through my shirt now.
“Fuck,” Cleo said, her voice tight and her eyes wide. “Want explain why mating marks light up like console panel?” She pulled away from my touch, and the glow immediately started to fade. “How many mates do you actuallyhave?”
Mating marks. The term caught me off guard. “What?”
“Those.” She gestured at my chest, my arms, everywhere the marks showed. “Destrans have mating marks. They appear when Destran find mate. One mate for life. Yours, and others like you…marks areeverywhere. You must have many mates, but…” She trailed off, her brow knitting in confusion. “Eh. They glow when you touch me. I no understand what happening here.”
