I met him at the settlement edge just after dawn, where he waited with a small packed bag and that easy smile that was starting to do inconvenient things to my pulse.
“Ready for the grand tour?” he asked.
“Define grand.”
“I’m going to show you parts of the valley you haven’t seen yet. Areas being reclaimed. How the D’tran are rebuilding.” He started walking and I fell into step beside him. “Plus I packed lunch.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” He glanced at me, his skin shifting to warm amber. “Can’t have my cultural liaison partner subsisting on ration bars.”
“I’m your partner now?”
“Would you prefer ‘assignment’?” he asked with that grin.
“I’d prefer ‘temporary arrangement.’” This was my attempt at light teasing, but I shouldn’t. I knew I really shouldn’t. My jokes never landed.
Nevertheless, he laughed, and the sound was genuine and warm. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
We walked through the valley, following paths that wound between reclaimed fields and areas where young plants pushed through storm-ravaged soil. Baleck explained the irrigation system the D’tran had built, pointing out the cleverness of their design.
I found myself actually interested, despite my initial resistance. The way they’d begun to adapt to post-storm conditions, using salvaged materials and ancient knowledge to rebuild. It was impressive.
“Here,” Baleck said, leading me to where a group of D’tran were carefully harvesting nuts from a thick bush with mean-looking thorns. “They’re picking tauki nuts. These plants are very resilient, and some of these seedlings have just been planted in a test area outside the valley. The nuts are highly nutritious, and delicious when roasted.”
I watched them work—coordinated, efficient, avoiding thorns like the pros they were. One of the D’tran called out to Baleck, and he answered in fluent D’tran. The easy way he switched between languages, how naturally he belonged here, made something twist in my chest.
I didn’t belong anywhere. Never had.
We continued on, cresting a ridge that gave us a view of the entire valley. From up here, I could seetwosettlements—Rezor’s, and the distant outline of another, far to the north.
Baleck must have seen where I was looking and pointed toward the imposing stone wall that surrounded a sturdy-looking village. One that he could not make out clearly with his eyes, but I could with mine. “Way out there is Vikkat’s compound. Rezor and Vikkat lead the last known surviving D’tran settlements. Vikkat is a good leader,” he said with an approving nod. “Had he not saved Zara and Torven during the storms, the weather towers would still be producing those deadly storms.”
I took in the northern compound with a wince. It was exposed to the elements, protected only by massive walls and domes that likely had needed constant maintenance to hold back the rain and powerful winds. Vikkat’s people hadnotenjoyed the shelter of the valley. “In my briefs, it said that despite both being plagued by deadly weather, the two leaders had not been allies.”
“True,” Baleck replied. “Each faction had fiercely protected what resources they had. Now, they’re working toward a new future for their people together. Not the easiest thing for two fiercely independent, self-sustaining cultures, but given time, it will happen. Both Rezor and Vikkat are intelligent, rational leaders who want the best for their people.”
“It’s bigger than I thought,” I admitted, then waved a hand. “The planet, I mean. Not the settlement.”
Baleck sat on a flat rock, patting the space beside him. “Oh, yes. It’s massive. Mostly unexplored since the storms. We’ve barely scratched the surface.” His gaze scanned the horizon with an almost eager gleam. “It’s hard for me to imagine my people living here. Thatthisis the Destran home world.”
I sat, maintaining a careful few inches between us. “That’s a lot to process. The challenges are overwhelming. How does it feel to knowing there’s so muchunknownout there?”
“Exciting.” He leaned back on his hands, face tilted to the sun. “You?”
“Tactical nightmare.” I thought about the probe we saw and the countless questions it asked. “Can’t secure what you can’t map.”
“Always thinking about security.”
“It’s my job.”
“Is it?” He turned to look at me. “Or is it your armor?”
I tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” But his eyes said differently. “Just an observation.”
We sat in silence for a while. I told myself to get up, move on, maintain professional distance. Instead I stayed put, hyperaware of how close he was. How his skin shifted through contented blues and greens. How good he smelled—like sun-warmed stone and some spice that was uniquely him.
