We exited, finding a six-wheeled vehicle waiting to usher us to Trid’s. Jinx observed everything with the wonder of a kid mixed with the skepticism of a cynic. It was quite the combination. I knew he didn’t trust these people implicitly, but neither did I. At the moment, our paths aligned, and it was good to have an ally.
The vehicle seamlessly drove us to the destination Trid had given us—which, it turned out, was across town, near the farthest corner of the city. The trip took twenty minutes, providing for sightseeing along the way. When the vehicle stopped, we filed off. The driverless car kept moving after the doors shut.
His place was a modest home: two-story, stone-faced, and comforting on an alien world. It was the grand courtyard beyond that drew our attention.
“What’s this all about?” Varn asked.
The square was massive, a kilometer in length. And it was filled with Darlor.
The last time I’d seen this number of people in one area was after I’d won the Pod Sprint on Mars. The energy here was far different. It was quiet. Sullen.
Zonrial approached us, surveying the crowd. They were a sea of gray and beige overgrown craniums, each wearing matching robes. “This is called Trolirsta. It means a wake for the dead.”
They all knelt at the same moment, facing the direction in which the star had set earlier. A low hum started from one edge, and rolled across the people.
“They’re mourning today’s losses?” Varn asked her.
“Today’s and yesterday’s, and all time before that. The Darlor respect their people, not only in body, but in essence as well.” Zonrial stared forward.
“How many died?” I didn’t think we’d suffered tremendous losses in the battles, mostly because the Stin made up the majority of the fleet.
“Three.”
Considering we’d faced off against five Squids, that sounded pretty reasonable. Yet hearing the Darlor mourn reminded me how valuable each life truly was.
A couple of months ago, we’d been training for a Space Race, with nothing but each checkpoint on our minds. It was difficult to remember that time when it wasn’t about life and death. Battles and survival. We’d taken everything for granted, and so had the Board and Corporations. It made me wonder if the Primaries had known more than they’d let on.
Why else would they have refused to expand past our solar system? Octavia Post’s excuse for not using the faster-than-light Core modifications fell flat. They had to have been aware of the Velibar, or at least the notion of another entity challenging our entire existence.
The sound of the Darlor crowd’s cries grew in volume, and it became a song. Complex harmonies and various timbres rose in crescendo, sending the hair on my arms on end. I wished Jade was here to witness this.
I peered at Zonrial, and her golden eyes misted with tears. Despite her blue skin and the series of horns rising through her dark mane of hair like a stegosaurus, we were very similar.
“This is beautiful,” Varn whispered.
“How long do they go on?” Luther asked our Hidan host.
“A few minutes,” Zonrial replied.
I soaked in the view, seeing the edge of town, lined with real trees. They rose like a row of protective spires against invasion. Their tops reached heights of over five hundred feet, and boughs covered in spindly red needles jutted in all directions.
The stars twinkled above, and a meteor burned quickly through the atmosphere. A shooting star.
The Darlor slowly finished their tune of reverence for their lost friends, and they returned to their feet. We all watched from our perch just up from the courtyard as they turned to their neighbors, embracing with an intimate bump of their oversized foreheads.
“Very few have ever witnessed this,” Zonrial told us. “You were invited because Trid trusts you.”
“And you?” I asked her. “Do you trust us?”
She finally broke her stare at the gathered Darlor to watch me. “I believe actions speak louder than words, and your actions have been admirable. I trust you.”
I relaxed and smiled. “Good. We’re not going to be able to infiltrate the outpost without confidence in one another.”
She let out a light laugh. “This may be a one-way mission.”
Luther stepped closer. “What are you saying?”
“The Velibar are serious.”
“But we’re going to use—”
She dismissed me with a flick of her wrist. “Don’t be naïve. We’ll hit their outpost, make them pay for their treachery, but we may not be leaving.”
Zonrial walked away as Trid trudged up a deep set of stairs, leading to his home from the courtyard.
“Don’t listen to her, guys,” I told my allies.
Jinx blinked rapidly but broke out a grin. “If I’m going to die, better in battle than hiding in my room on Titan.”
Varn Wallish puffed his chest out. “I’m done catering to guys like Frank Under and worrying about what tomorrow brings. I don’t care what that horned chick says. She hasn’t flown with the best. We’re going to kick their asses.”
Luther patted me on the back. “I don’t love our odds, but we do have an edge on the Velibar.”
I watched Trid as he talked quietly with Zonrial a few meters away. “What’s that?”
“The best damned pilot they’ve ever seen,” Luther finished.
____________
“That’s the last of the feeds,” Zonrial said. She replayed the images, which showed her brother Faril’s camera recordings. Their transport had intercepted the gateway, and the film continued even after the gate closed. We’d watched the footage while they were brought to an outpost.
“It’s worse than we suspected.” Trid rubbed the ridges on his temples. “There’s too many of them.”
The space station outside the planet didn’t look overly impressive, until one of the Squids along its exterior came into view. That put the scale into perspective. It was twenty times as tall as one of their warships.
A speaker sat in the center of the table, and a Stin spoke through it, all of them
