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The silence is taut between the three of us, Malix’s voice quiet.
“A terraforming engine,” he says.
Taraven chews on his lip, stroking his stubble. I can’t imagine how he feels right now; this means everything for Zanpi, if we could get around the Second House blockade to his planet.
“So we could rebuild Zanpi without a mass die-off ofzephtan,” I murmur. “Holy shit. This is huge. Who all knows about this?”
“I debriefed with a select joint council,” Malix says. “Councilor Va’lora, Ansif Pri’esh, Zandro, Nixeris…also your human Prime Minister and a human scholar named Natalie Lewis. An even number of representatives from each of our species.”
“Jokahn was not happy about being left out, given his efforts in securing Liatra,” Taraven cuts in.
“But we don’t want him knowing what that thing can do, right?” I ask. “It will be safer if we all have a say in what happens next.”
“Which they’re still debating,” Malix says. “The joint council fears that, if Dalphox grows desperate, he may resort to a full-on invasion of our homeworlds. Countless people will die.”
“At least he doesn’t have a planet-destroying weapon anymore,” I say.
“But who knows how many are out there?” Malix asks. “The temple on Liatra could be just one of dozens…even hundreds. We don’t know the extent of the builders’ reach.”
“Is that what we’re calling them?” I ask. “The ancient aliens—the Builders?”
“Builders, ancestors…it doesn’t much matter what we call them,” Taraven says. “All I know is that we have more questions now: like where they came from and what happened to them…or if they’re still out there.”
“Human and Lyran scholars have surmised for some time that we all have a common ancestor, given our ability to cross-breed,” Malix says. “Perhaps this is the confirmation we sought.”
“But why haven’t we run into them?” I ask. “What could have possibly happened to an alien race that was capable of transdimensional travel and communications? Ofterraforming?”
“What happens to many advance species, I suppose,” Taraven says. “Hubris? War?”
“Or annihilation by something else out there,” Malix says.
Now would be a good time to crack a joke about the Lyran being a downer, but at this point I’m all out of words. I chew on my lip and wind a curl around my finger, trying not to panic at the prospect of what’s lurking in the infinite darkness.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m pretty hungry. Y’all want to go and grab a bite?”
“A bite…?” Malix starts.
“Of food,” Taraven smiles. “It’s another human expression.”
Malix smiles, too. “I might need you to make me a list.”
“I’ll get on that,” I say. “But for now I think I’d like to get out of this bed and go for a walk. Maybe have a stiff drink and stop thinking about the apocalypse for a day or two.”
“If you insist,” Taraven says. He gets up, Malix joining him as they help me out of bed. “Shall we?”
I nod. “We shall.”
And I walk arm in arm with my men into the light of the Liatran sun.
??
Jokahn’s villa has gone from a pleasure palace to a military encampment in the blink of an eye. Soldiers of each of our three species mill around the property, striding under the sunlit arches and around the lounges where we had drinks just a few nights ago. Some of the Lyra stop us to say thank you, recognizing us on sight as the ones who saved Halla.
I guess my days of going incognito are over. At this rate, my mangled face is probably plastered all over the news.
“Has someone called my parents to tell them what’s going on?” I ask. “If people on Earth have heard what happened…”
“Agent Nguyen reached out to speak with them personally,” Taraven says. “They told her they’ll wait for you to call.”
