Meat was really not a descriptor Reath wanted to hear applied to himself. He plowed on as though nobody had spoken, mentally taking the tally the entire time. “I’m a human. My name’s Reath Silas. Coming here was an accident, so if I’m intruding, uh, very sorry about that.” Seven Drengir in the party. Two keep their weapons at their sides and may be noncombatants. Vulnerable spots uncertain, but watch for the thorns.

“If it is younger, then it is even less likely to have information than the one we have,” the Drengir leader continued. “It will not know how this relay works. Pieces of foolish meat tumble out of the pods and we learn nothing. But two visitors means we have confirmed—our landing space remains intact. We can again find our brethren. And we can stop asking questions of our prize. At last we can eat it.”

Nobody was talking to Reath, but he thought he should weigh in, if only to get past being called meat. Could they not hear him? Or understand him? Their accents were strong, more like the way people had talked centuries before. Still, he’d try. “Probably those other people didn’t mean to come here any more than I did,” he guessed. “We thought that was Amaxine technology—”

“The Amaxines!” All the Drengir made a snap-rustling sound that must have been their version of laughter. So, Reath thought, they can hear me. They just think I’m not worth talking to.

The Drengir leader continued, “One of our first great conquests. They built this relay to make war on us, attempting to take our planet as they had many others. Instead, we defeated and devoured them.” Even this comment was more of a pep talk to his fellow Drengir than a statement directed at Reath. “We made their station our own. From there we planned to wreak havoc on many worlds. But then our people fell silent. None of them returned in either glory or defeat.”

We haven’t seen your people on the station, Reath wanted to say—but was stopped by two realizations.

First, they had seen Drengir on the station. Now that he looked at them, he recognized the curl of their thorns, the particular dark yellowish-green of some stems. The Drengir had been there the whole time, silent and still. Were they the darkness that had been held in check by the ancient idols?

Second, only a few moments before, the Drengir leader had said another person had recently come through in a hyperspace pod. How recently?

“Who else has come to your planet via the pods?” Reath asked, tightening his grip on his saber.

“This one is fresh,” said one of the Drengir, still ignoring Reath. “Not like the wilted one with sap running from his head. Maybe it can answer more questions.”