Chapter Text
He takes a tentative step into the mess hall, observing the quiet chatter among them all before smoothly lining up after other Blades to get a tray of food. It’s his first quintant at the Blades’ headquarters, and he doesn’t want to mess up. Doesn’t exactly want others to get a chance to belittle him, when he has a chance to prove himself.
He’s not his father, after all, and his father took a risk in his mission, causing his death.
The towering Galran in front of him only takes a glance, surprise lighting his features before offering him a smile. “Are you a new trainee?” the Galran asks curiously, takes up a free tray of food offered to him while his tail reaches for utensils.
Ulaz only blinks up at him, before he nods slowly and takes the next offered tray. “I am,” he says carefully with a clipped tone. He isn’t sure why the Galran gives him a sympathetic look mixed with wariness, but he doesn’t like it. “Why?”
“No reason, I am one as well,” the Galran says neutrally, his tail now swishing on the ground after placing the utensils on his tray. He startles at that, staring up at the other as he scrambles for an answer. There is no way that this Galran is a new recruit, especially when they seem to be a seasoned warrior.
He must have been staring too long, as the other Galran chuckles and tilts his head for him to follow. “I have been raised here, if you are wondering,” he says, lavender pupils glimmering with amusement as he easily weaves among the crowded tables, Ulaz at his heels.
This Galran must be well known, given the amount of curious stares coming their way and the few occasional greetings that the Galran gives back. He doesn’t bother to question it, seeing how the other seems to be relaxed and used to it. Perhaps he can learn a little more about the Blades from him.
“I see,” he finally says as the Galran leads him to a table far in the back, away from mostly prying eyes and most other Blades. A strategic place to discuss private conversations no one else would overhear.
“Antok,” the Galran introduces himself, placing his tray down on the table and stretches his hand out.
“Ulaz,” he returns and reaches to grasp his forearm after a moment of silence, balancing his own tray on his free hand. He lets go and sits down
“Thace,” another voice joins in, a tray slamming down next to him, makes him slowly turn his head to see another Galran beside him. ‘Thace’ gives him a small smirk in turn, sits down on the seat next to his and picks up a knife, spins it around with practiced ease. He doesn’t appreciate whatever this Galran is thinking. “So, are we having some sort of meeting today?”
“Thace, no,” Antok says sternly, a large three-fingered hand reaching out to snatch the knife out of the other Galran’s hand. He watches their light banter silently, curiosity rearing its’ head in his mind. “And no, we are not. I am merely trying-”
“Just shut up and admit you wanted friends other than me, you vroker,” Thace tells the other Galran with a roll of his eyes. Ulaz can’t help but smile at that, offering Thace a smile himself as he settles down to eat his meal. He hasn’t thought of his father the entire time he’s been with Antok, he realizes with a soft inhale of air.
A few dosboshes later has the entire mess hall abruptly fall silent, with Antok and Thace pausing their small chatter, and Ulaz lifting his head to stare in confusion. Everyone seems to be staring towards a lone figure awkwardly standing at the entrance. He feels his blood run cold at the sight of the familiar Galran.
His father’s executioner.
“Is that not the former Lieutenant of Sendak?” Thace asks curiously, pokes at Antok’s arm when the large Galran doesn’t move. “Former Lieutenant Kolivan, am I right? He looks young to be in the army. Right, Antok? Antok?”
Antok only continues to stare at the Galran, who is now lining up to get his tray of food.
Thace leans over to Ulaz. “I think the sight of Kolivan broke him,” he whispers with a twinkle in his eyes. As much as it seems to be meant as a joke, he can’t laugh, can’t look away when Kolivan accepts a cup of water instead of his meal.
Kolivan was his father’s executioner, was the enemy; how exactly can Ulaz accept him as a comrade?
Ulaz slowly opens his eyes to Azrig chirping worriedly at him as she nuzzles his cheek, a glint of distress flashing through her eyes before vanishing. She gives him a purr, her tail flicking down on the ground. He smiles at her, reaching out with a finger to stroke her head carefully.
He hasn’t thought or dreamed of his pride’s first meeting in a long time, since they were first trainees, then to earning ranks of Commanders and senior Blades while Kolivan and Antok became leader and second-in-command respectively. There was some tension between him and Kolivan, too, now that he remembers, but they’ve both slowly gotten over that.
A small mirthless chuckle escapes him as he sits up, grabs his blade and slips it onto his back, securing it tightly to make sure it doesn’t fall off. He reaches out to grab the sticks Azrig brought back to him a couple of days prior, throwing them into the small fire pit.
The fire roars.
“Well, it seems it’s going to be another day of searching, Azrig,” he says calmly to the Daltae next to him. Azrig only huffs, climbing into his lap and curls up with a soft purr. He pulls out the container where he placed the leftovers of his last meal (jerky mixed with herbs and rodent meat), uncovering it before offering some to the Daltae. “Would you like some?”
The Daltae only trills with glee as she quickly snatches the jerky and finishes it within matters of minutes, licking her own fangs as she stares up at him with a pleading look. He shakes his head in amusement before taking a bite of his own.
It’s only been a few quintants since he’s arrived on the planet and met Azrig, only salvaging parts to create a communicator and send for help. They both hunted for their meals and Ulaz slowly learns to rely on his new friend for searching. He buried and cremated corpses of both Blades and civilians. Macidus seemingly disappeared into thin air, but that’s fine with him.
He doesn’t need the alien to try and kill him, too, after learning how Azrig was only hostile due to feelings of malice.
Finishing his meal and climbing up to his feet slowly, he watches as Azrig immediately takes it as an invitation to climb up onto his shoulder. Her fur brushes against his own, the Daltae chirping in his ear when she curls around his neck with ease.
“Let’s get going,” he murmurs to her. She only lets out a whine, but settles against him as he walks out of the building and turns to the right, the only side of the city that he hasn’t explored yet. There’s barely anything that’s useful to him, since they don’t seem to have that many technological artifacts that he can use.
He does, however, appreciate that there’s enough resources to last him for at least a decaphoeb. He’s been scouring around the other parts of the city enough to the point where he knows he has enough to support himself. Glances at Azrig, and reminds himself he has enough to support both him and his new friend now.
Azrig’s ears twitches, before she chirps and hops off his shoulder, lands softly on the ground. He looks at her in surprise. “Azrig, what are you-”
The Daltae takes off.
“Azrig!” he cries out in surprise, an instant reaction to chase after her and dodge rubbles of stone. She leaps and turns at every corner, seemingly having the attempt to lose him in the chase. His heart stops when a thought disturbs his concentration on following her; she isn’t trying to go and leave him, correct?
Slowly stops to mull over the thought, his breaths coming in short pants and gasps. Since when has he been so dependent on someone’s company? He is supposed to be used to no company, since he’s been in charge and alone in the communication base in the Thaldycon System.
Except that’s a lie.
There are times when he misses the soft snores of Thace in his pride’s nest, the gentle purrs when Antok curls around whoever is closest to him, the quiet lyrics of a lullaby Kolivan sings when he’s awake. He will never be used to no one being around him, and it shows.
A whine below him catches his attention, and he looks down.
Azrig stares back up at him with another soft whine. She came back, he thinks with a daze, and surprise must have shown on his face because Azrig rubs her cheek against his leg with a reassuring purr. Ulaz offers her a wry smile as he bends down on one knee to stroke her head.
“My apologies,” he says quietly as she purrs from the strokes. “I have gotten a little carried away with my feelings. Now,” he pauses. “Why are we here?”
Her ears twitches a little, before she turns her head towards the right. He follows the direction of the Daltae’s gaze, before his stomach drops and his blood runs cold.
An opening of a tunnel system.