“Our best estimate is fewer than five hundred individuals. They scattered into the uncharted regions beyond the Outer Rim, and we lost track of them within months. Occasional reports surface, sightings or rumors, but nothing concrete.”
Baleck leaned forward slightly. “Could they have sent this probe?”
“Theoretically, yes. They would have had access to the manufacturing facilities before their disappearance. Could have taken equipment, supplies, even partially constructed probes with them when they fled.” Admiral Cillon paused, her expression troubled. “But here’s the thing. Even if they sent it, what could they actually do? Five hundred Brakken, scattered and resource-poor, lacking support from any established power. They don’t have the numbers for an invasion. They don’t have the ships for an assault. They don’t have the clout to recruit allies.”
“So the probe is just surveillance,” I said. “Keeping tabs on the Destran home world now that it’s been rediscovered.”
“That’s our current assessment. A faction nursing old grudges, watching from the shadows, but incapable of meaningful action.” Admiral Cillon’s eyes met mine through the screen. “However, we’re not taking chances. We’re deploying a network of monitoring satellites to the space around the planet. Destrani, as it’s being called. Any ship that approaches, any signal that’s transmitted, we’ll know about it.”
“What about alerting the D’tran leadership?” Baleck asked. “They should know about potential threats to their planet.”
Admiral Cillon shook her head. “Negative. The D’tran are dealing with massive societal upheaval right now. The storms ending, their isolation breaking, other species arriving on theirworld for the first time in centuries. Adding a potential Brakken threat to that mix could destabilize their government, create panic, undermine the diplomatic progress that’s been made.”
I understood the logic, even if I didn’t entirely agree with it. Information was power, and withholding it from allies was always a risk. But the Admiral had access to intelligence I didn’t. If she judged the D’tran too fragile for this knowledge, I had to trust that assessment.
“You want us to keep this between ourselves,” I said.
“For now. Continue your work as diplomatic liaisons. Monitor the situation on the ground. Report anything unusual through secure channels.” Admiral Cillon’s gaze shifted between Baleck and me. “And stay aware. Just because the third faction can’t launch an invasion doesn’t mean they can’t cause trouble in other ways.”
“Understood,” I said.
“Larivee. One more thing.” Admiral Cillon’s expression softened slightly. “Good work out there. Both of you. The documentation was thorough. The analysis sound. Whatever happens next, we’re better prepared because of what you found.”
“Thank you, Admiral.”
The channel closed, and the monitor went dark.
The silence that followed felt different than before. Heavier with implication. The Brakken probe wasn’t an immediate threat, but it wasn’t nothing either. Someone out there was watching. Waiting. Nursing wounds that might never fully heal.
I turned to Baleck.
He was looking at me with that open expression of his, his skin cycling through colors that suggested he was processing the conversation, filing away information, considering implications. But beneath the analysis, there was something warmer. Something that made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t want to examine too closely.
“So,” I said. “When are we having dinner?”
CHAPTER 8
BALECK
Iblinked at her, certain I’d misheard. “When are we having dinner?”
She raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable as always. “That’s what you asked me before the transmission. I’m answering.”
I hadn’t expected her to say yes. Had braced myself for a polite refusal, or more likely, no response at all, followed by a swift change of subject. But here she was, accepting my invitation as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Right now,” I said with a smile. I stood up and gestured toward the door. “We can go right now.”
I was eager to leave the communications room. The space was too small, too cramped, too cluttered with equipment that hummed and beeped and smelled too much like the spacecraft that brought me here—specifically, the smell of hot electronics shortly before we had to evacuate. I’d spent my life on Solas. The vast living ships had endless corridors and chambers. They breathed and expanded to accommodate their inhabitants. This room felt like being trapped in a box. Or an escape pod.
Even the busy communal areas of the village felt more comfortable than that technological closet. I wondered if Iris liked it because it was too small for enemies to hide in.
Iris rose from her seat. The Brakken probe discovery weighed heavily on both of us. I could see it in the tension of her shoulders, the way her gaze swept over everything, even in the relative safety of the settlement.
“That went well,” I said dryly.
She shot me a look. “Define ‘well.’”
“No one’s panicking. Orders are clear. We’re not dead.” I stood and stretched, feeling the day’s tension in my muscles. “Could be worse.”
