Foril grinned. “Ration bars! Terrible things. Here, try this.” He added something that looked like seasoned bread to the top of her bowl.
Iris accepted it all with a stiff nod, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. I grabbed my own bowl and started toward a quiet corner, far enough from the families that we’d have some privacy. Of course, we had to actually get to the table, and I knew a lot of people here.
“Baleck!” a voice called.
I turned to see Korin, one of Rezor’s engineers, waving from a nearby table. His eyes shifted through warm yellows and oranges, the D’tran equivalent of a friendly greeting.
I waved back. “Good evening, Korin. How’s your daughter?”
“Growing too fast.” He laughed, gesturing to the small female beside him who was more interested in playing with her food than eating it. “She’ll be running the village before we know it.”
More greetings followed as we made our way through the hall. D’tran I’d met during my weeks here, workers and guards and craftspeople who had slowly warmed to the strange sky person who asked so many questions and seemed genuinely interested in their answers. Each one acknowledged me with a wave or a word, and I responded in kind.
“You’ve made quite an impression here,” Iris observed, her voice low.
“I’ve tried.” I glanced at her, pleased by the comment, even if her tone was neutral. “Building connections is what I do. And the D’tran have been generous with their time and knowledge. They’re good people.”
“Hmm.” She didn’t elaborate, but I thought I saw something flicker in her dark eyes. Curiosity, maybe. Or reassessment.
We made it to the far end of one of the long tables. This corner was quieter, more private, away from the main clusters of D’tran families sharing their meals. Iris didn’t seem comfortable in crowds, and I wanted her to be at ease.
We sat across from each other, the warm bowls of soup steaming between us. The music drifted over, softer now, a gentle backdrop to the murmur of conversation throughout the hall.
But Iris sat looking at her bowl like it might be booby-trapped.
“It’s safe,” I assured her. “I’ve eaten here dozens of times.”
“I’m not worried about poison.” She picked up a piece of the bread and took a small bite. I watched her eyes widen fractionally as flavor hit her tongue.
“Good?” I asked.
“It’s…” She took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Yes. It’s good.”
I started on my own food, giving her space to experience it without my commentary. I dipped my bread into the soup and took a bite, closing my eyes as the flavors burst across my tongue. Rich and earthy, with a hint of something sweet underneath. Delicious.
“You really enjoy that.”
I opened my eyes to find Iris watching me with an expression that might have been amusement. Or curiosity. Hard to tell with her.
“I do,” I admitted, taking another bite. “Everything they make here is incredible.”
“I thought Destrans didn’t eat food like other species.” She stirred her own soup, her movements precise and controlled. “All the briefings said you consume lami as your primary nutrition.”
“That’s true. Lami is our main food source on Solas. It provides everything we need, nutritionally speaking. Some Destrans never eat solid food at all.” I tore off another piece of bread and dunked it in the soup. “But we can eat. Our bodies easily process other foods. We just don’t usually have reason to.”
“So what changed?”
“Cleo, Mierva, and I were stranded on this planet for cycles before the rescue team arrived. There was no lami. We had to eat their food, or starve.” I smiled at the memory. “At first, it was strange. The textures and flavors were unfamiliar, but we adapted. And then I discovered that I actually liked it. Differentflavors, different experiences. There’s something satisfying about a good meal that lami doesn’t quite replicate.”
Iris nodded slowly, processing this. Then she said, “I’ve heard that lami tastes like whatever food you love most.”
“It does, for those who actually have a favorite food, like you humans.” I winked. “You should try some lami so I can learn what your favorite food is. Ah, no. I already know.”
Her lips twitched. “Chocolate.”
“Yes. Learned that by accident, but it counts. And now, when I drink lami, it tastes like this.” I gestured at the soup and bread. “Like D’tran cooking. The flavors have become part of me.”
“Interesting.” She drew a spoonful of her own soup to her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Her expression didn’t change, but something in her posture shifted. Relaxed, maybe, just a fraction.
