I preferred it to the more open and public spaces Rezor had offered us. Here, surrounded by technology I understood, I could focus on the task at hand. However, thoughts could not be stopped and there had been many of them circling my mind since the Raycer ride back.
The images from the probe site uploaded steadily to the secure transmission buffer. Each one appeared on my monitor before compressing and joining the data packet that would soon be sent to Earth’s leadership and their Destran counterparts. The probe from multiple angles. Close-ups of the Brakken symbols. Energy readings. Coordinate data. Everything documented just as it had been drilled into me through years of training.
Behind me, Baleck sat in one of the mismatched chairs. I could hear him shifting occasionally, the soft rustle of fabric, the quiet tap of his fingers against the armrest. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet since we’d returned. His usual easy conversation had been replaced by thoughtful silence. I found the change both unsettling and a relief.
“What do you think they want?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.
I didn’t turn from the monitor. “You mean the Brakken?”
“Yes. Or whoever sent that probe.” His chair creaked as he leaned forward. “If it’s really from them. If they’re really watching this planet. What’s their goal?”
We had talked about this a little bit earlier today when we’d found the probe. I finished the upload sequence and turned to face him. He looked tense. The events of the day showed in the rigid line of his shoulders and the muted colors of his skin. Blues and muddy yellows, mostly. Contemplative and anxious tones, if I was reading him correctly.
“They might not want anything,” I said. “When I briefed Sophie and Vash, they agreed we needed to send what we learned back to Earth and the Destran Solas, but that we were not to assume the worst about this.”
His brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“Not every probe is a prelude to invasion. Not every act of surveillance is hostile.” I leaned back, crossing my arms. “The Brakken were nearly destroyed. Their society collapsed. Their species scattered across the galaxy in fragments. If I were them, I’d want to keep an eye on my old enemies too.”
“Monitoring,” Baleck said slowly, testing the word. “You think they’re just…watching?”
“It’s possible. They know what the Destrans are capable of. They know what happened when they underestimated you before. And now there’s us, humans, working with you, too.Sending probes to track your movements, your expansions, your discoveries is basic intelligence gathering. Defensive rather than offensive.”
“That’s a generous interpretation.”
I shrugged. “We don’t have enough information to assume the worst. Could be a threat. Could be nothing. Could be something in between. Until we know more, speculation is just that. Speculation.”
Baleck was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on some middle distance. Then he nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’m letting my history with them color my analysis.”
“That’s understandable. You lived through the war. You have every reason to be wary.”
“Wary.” A faint smile crossed his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s a soft word for a hard feeling.”
The transmission buffer beeped, indicating the data packet was ready to send. I turned back to the console and initiated the secure uplink. The signal would bounce through several relay stations before reaching its destinations, a precaution against interception that added time to the transmission, but was necessary given the sensitivity of the information.
“Done,” I said. “Now we wait. Shouldn’t be long for a reply, though.”
The door to the communications room opened, and Rezor stepped inside.
I’d seen the D’tran leader several times since arriving on this planet, always at a distance, always surrounded by advisors or guards. Up close, in this cramped space with its harsh artificial lighting, he looked different than I’d expected. His bronze skin had a dull quality to it, and his color-shifting eyes were muted, cycling through shades of gray and brown that reminded me of storm clouds.
He looked lost. Sad. Weary in a way that went beyond physical exhaustion.
“Is the space adequate for your needs?” he asked, his voice flat.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “Thank you for letting us have this to keep in contact with Destran and human leadership.” Baleck and I had not told Rezor about what we’d found out there, past the valley. And we wouldn’t, unless we were ordered to. These people were reeling with enough new elements in their environment. Mentioning a possible new enemy was not a good idea.
Rezor nodded but didn’t leave. He stood in the doorway, his gaze moving over the equipment, the monitors, the cables, as if searching for something he couldn’t name. “Let me know if you receive news from…” He trailed off, and after a moment, he turned and walked away.
The silence he left behind felt heavy.
“He’s taking it hard,” Baleck said quietly.
I didn’t need to ask what he meant. “Dr. Vasquez.”
“Cleo.” Baleck’s voice softened on the name. “She’s his mate. His true mate. When she decided to return to the Solas with Zara and Maya, it was like watching someone have a piece of themselves cut out.”
I thought about the way Rezor had looked. The hollowness in his eyes. The weight in his movements. It was more than sadness. It was grief. The kind that came from losing something essential.
