Daniel raised an eyebrow, as he did any time Trak mentioned a scary, oddly specific piece of military information.
Trak, Daniel’s best friend and confidante, was once described as the weapon other weapons would use to end a war.
Blood-red in color, he stood ten feet tall on four wide spidery legs, his head an inch below the Afterthought's ceiling.
His metallic arms, thick with copper-colored cables, extended from an obelisk-shaped torso. A skull-sized blob of what looked like mercury, also blood-red, hovered above each shoulder; Trak had told Daniel they were turrets.
Lines and grooves covered every inch of his alloyed frame, marking the areas from which Trak could extend concealed weaponry.
Two insect-like mandibles jutted from the base of his sharp, angular head--a head with no features other than a ring of smooth dark-blue crystal that wrapped all the way around the top of his skull and served as his optical sensors.
As the faint glow of the Garage illuminated his towering figure, Daniel saw how others could think Trak was "terrifying."
Trak had never used his weapons in Daniel's presence. He had not intentionally harmed a living thing in the 15 years Daniel had known him.
But Daniel was certain Trak hadn't always been peaceful.
Trak didn’t talk about what he had done during the 9,985 years before he met Daniel, and Daniel never asked. He was afraid of the answer.
Trak was content to watch over Daniel as he had always done since Daniel was ten-years-old.
But, every once in a while, when Trak would say something about "troop deployment strategy" or "ancient casualty figures," Daniel would become curious about his friend's former life.
“The area is full of debris, and there is no sign of any intelligent life,” Rachel-7 said, continuing her ship status update. “Or Jeska either. Ha.”
“Maybe Jeska was wrong, Daniel," Trak said. "Or maybe that message you received wasn’t from her. Maybe this is a trap."
“You already told me that,” Daniel said.