Chapter 8
ZAR’RYN READ the incoming message three times, each repetition deepening the tension coiling in his chest. The encrypted text glowed faintly on the screen of his ship’s console, its meaning as clear as it was troubling.
Jo’Nay wanted them to meet at a remote research station—hidden deep within the swirling chaos of a nebula surrounded by razor-sharp asteroid fields. The coordinates and the urgency of the tone left no room for refusal. But what unsettled him most was Jo’Nay’s cryptic promise: “Answers await you, but not without a cost.”
“This feels wrong,” Zar’Ryn muttered, more to himself than Elara.
Her soft gasp drew his gaze. She stood beside him, her slender frame illuminated by the console’s light, her arms crossed tightly as though to shield herself from his rising unease. The faint flicker of their bond pulsed through him, carrying her apprehension like a second heartbeat.
It also carried an unnerving desire. Lingering. Pressing. Insisting.
He could tell she forced herself to consider the message, though it came with a serious struggle to dampen the want that continuously pulsed between the two of them. “What does he mean by ‘answers’?” she asked. Her voice held a thread of hope she couldn’t quite mask, though he felt the weight of her fear beneathit.
“We will find out soon enough,” he replied, his tone clipped. He turned to the ship’s controls, inputting the coordinates. He refused to let her see how much the message concernedhim.
Worse, the intensity of the bond increased, her barely suppressed desire cutting through his focus like a blade. How could she stand so near and not sense how she affected him? Every slight movement, every hitch in her breath, amplified the tension betweenthem.
Zar’Ryn clenched his fists tighter as her scent—amaddening mixture of something uniquely her —reached him. It was subtle, but it burrowed into his thoughts like a persistentache.
Her lips moved, forming words he barely registered, her voice a melody that seemed designed to torment him. He forced himself to focus on the words, not the soft curve of her mouth or the faint blush of her cheeks. She didn’t even realize, did she? Her very existence unraveled the threads of his discipline, one glance, one moment at atime.
When she shifted closer, her hand brushing his arm lightly as she gestured toward the view outside, the contact ignited a surge of heat so penetrating he almost pulled away. Almost. But he couldn’t afford to appear weak, not now. Instead, he locked his body in place, forcing his breathing to remain steady.
It didn’t help. The bond magnified everything—her curiosity, her slight nervousness, and the flicker of awareness she tried to suppress. Did she feel it too? The way their connection burned like a stripped wire ready tosnap?
Zar’Ryn cursed himself silently. He was a warrior, trained to control his mind and body with precision. Yet here he stood, undone by the presence of one human woman. The very idea infuriated him. Worse, it threatened to undohim.
He forced his gaze to the viewport, willing his thoughts back to the mission, back to the message from Jo’Nay. But even as he attempted to focus, his awareness of Elara lingered, aconstant, maddening distraction.
The navigation to the nebula proved as treacherous as Jo’Nay’s warning had suggested. Zar’Ryn guided the ship with the precision of a seasoned warrior, his movements economical yet tense. The swirling gases danced like spectral flames outside the viewport, their iridescent hues concealing jagged asteroid fields that threatened to tear through the ship’s hull. Each decision was split-second, each maneuver demanding complete focus.
But even as he pushed the ship forward, he couldn’t silence the storm within. Elara’s emotions bled into him through their bond, atangled mix of awe, unease, and something sharper—fear for him? And always that undercurrent of desperate desire. The realization unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
“You’re angry,” she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet vibration of the controls.
“I am focused,” he corrected, refusing to meet hergaze.
“Focused on not feeling anything?” she pressed, her tone tinged with frustration. “It doesn’t work, Zar’Ryn. Not anymore. Not with this.” She raised her wrist, the faint glow of the bracelet casting shifting shadows against herskin.
He exhaled sharply, gripping the controls tighter. “I do not have the luxury of feelings, Elara. Ineed every ounce of focus.”
Her silence turned heavy, but the bond pulsed with her unspoken thoughts. He could feel her probing, searching for cracks in his resolve. For once, he was grateful the ship’s proximity alarms demanded his full attention.
The research station emerged from the nebula like a phantom, its sleek structure luminous against the swirling backdrop. Energy barriers shielded the dock, shimmering faintly, suggesting layers of defense that spoke of either paranoia or preparation. Zar’Ryn couldn’t decide which.
“Impressive,” Elara murmured, her voice tinged with reluctant admiration. Despite her unease, her curiosity shone through. He couldn’t decide if that was a strength or a liability.
The docking sequence completed with a smooth hiss of the airlock. He rose from his seat, scanning the corridor beyond the viewport.
“Stay close,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
They stepped into the station, the atmosphere immediately cooler and more sterile than the ship. The walls gleamed with an almost unnatural precision, the sterile lighting casting harsh reflections that seemed to strip the warmth from the space. The bay felt hollow, empty, as if waiting to be filled with purpose.
The sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor, sharp and deliberate. Zar’Ryn stiffened, his hand twitching toward his blade, but he forced himself to stay still as a figure emerged from the shadows.
Tor’Vek. His unit’s Third.
The scientist cum medic’s gaze swept over them, assessing and calculating. He stood taller than Zar’Ryn remembered, his broad frame encased in a high-collared uniform that seemed to repel even the dust in the air. His Final Flight black eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence, and his expression, while calm, carried a subtle wariness.
“Zar’Ryn,” Tor’Vek said, his voice even but not unkind. “It has been a long time.”
“It is good to see you, brother,” Zar’Ryn replied.
Before they had the opportunity to say more, asoft cry broke the moment.
“Winn!” Elara’s voice rose with surprise andjoy.
From a side corridor, Winn appeared, her face lighting up with relief. Without hesitation, she rushed forward, enveloping Elara in a fierce embrace.
“I can’t believe it,” Winn whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
Elara pulled back slightly, her hands gripping Winn’s shoulders as if to confirm she was real. “You’re safe,” she said, her voice trembling. “Thank the stars, you’re safe. The reports we watched seemed to indicate otherwise.”
“It all worked out thanks to Jo’Nay,” Winn replied, her gaze flicking toward the towering warrior who now stepped intoview.
Jo’Nay’s presence commanded the area, his white hair catching the harsh light. He acknowledged Zar’Ryn with a nod, his expression unreadable. The tension between them was immediate, an unspoken history hanging heavy in theair.
“You received my message,” Jo’Nay said, breaking the silence.
“And now I want answers,” Zar’Ryn replied. His tone was sharp, his body taut with barely suppressed frustration.
“Come into the station and you shall have them.”
The loading bay doors slid open with a whisper of hydraulics, revealing a stark, metallic interior bathed in cool white light. Tor’Vek stepped in first, his boots reverberating against the polished steel floor. Jo’Nay and Zar’Ryn followed with the two women. The walls were unadorned, save for faint grooves that hinted at hidden panels and mechanisms—an unspoken promise of the station’s defenses.
Above, narrow strips of light stretched in parallel lines, their brightness casting sharp reflections across the surfaces. The sterile air carried a faint metallic tang, mingled with an almost imperceptible vibration that played through the structure like a heartbeat.
“Stay close,” Zar’Ryn said, his voice cutting through the quiet.
Elara hesitated behind him, her gaze darting around the expansive space. She quickened her pace to match his, her footsteps soft against the floor, contrasting his deliberate, confident strides.
The transition from the bay to the passageway was seamless, yet the shift in atmosphere felt almost palpable. The corridor narrowed, the lighting softer but equally precise. Along the walls, faint blue lines pulsed intermittently, as though mapping out the station’s lifelines.
The subtle heartbeat of the station grew more distinct here, arhythmic vibration that Zar’Ryn felt in his chest as much as he heard it. He pressed a hand against his wrist, where the bracelet pulsated faintly, and glanced at Elara. She gazed back with a hint of nervousness, her eyes dark and hesitant.
The passage twisted unexpectedly, leading to another set of doors. These were thicker, more imposing, with the faint shimmer of an energy shield flickering over their surface. Zar’Ryn paused, his hand hovering near his weapon as the shield deactivated with a low whisper of sound, and the doors parted to reveal the gathering area beyond.
The room was cavernous but designed with precision, built for both comfort and efficiency. Every piece of furniture was positioned in straight, utilitarian lines. Acircular table dominated the center, surrounded by sleek, high-backed chairs. Consoles and displays lined the walls, their screens alive with cascading data. Overhead, an array of lights hung in a geometric pattern, illuminating the room without casting shadows.
Despite the room’s functionality, there was an undeniable energy to it, as though countless decisions of great consequence had been made here. Zar’Ryn stepped inside, his presence immediately filling the space, while Elara hesitated at the threshold. Winn grabbed her hand and tugged herin.
“All is well, Elara. We’re safe.”
“That would make a nice change,” Elara murmured.
“We are all together here,” Zar’Ryn stated. “So explain.”
Jo’Nay gestured toward Tor’Vek. “He can explain better than I can.”
All eyes turned to the scientist, who remained unflappable beneath the weight of their scrutiny.
“The apples,” Tor’Vek began, his voice steady and deliberate, “have demonstrated the ability to reverse key aspects of our genetic modifications. Sterility. Heat flashes. Final Flight. Perhaps more. But they raise profound questions about who we are and what we have been made into.”
“Questions we have been denied the right to ask,” Jo’Nay interjected, his tone fiery.
Zar’Ryn’s fists clenched at his sides. “You have broken the code. Defied the oath that binds us.”
The tension crackled like static between them, building with each sharp exchange. Jo’Nay’s eyes blazed with defiance, his voice rising as he leaned forward. “The code is a leash, brother. Aleash that binds us to a life of servitude, followed by a hideous death. That is not honor.”
“The code is what gives us purpose,” Zar’Ryn insisted, his voice like tempered steel. “Without it, we are nothing but rogue weapons, chaos incarnate.”
“And what purpose does it serve, exactly?” Jo’Nay shot back, his tone scathing. “To ensure we die alone? To strip us of the possibility of a family, of love, of the right to choose how to live after four hundred years of righteous service? Tell me, where is the honor in that?”
Zar’Ryn stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “The honor is in knowing that our sacrifices protect the Nine Galaxies. We are warriors, not farmers or dreamers. The moment you took the apple, you spat on everything we stand for.”
Jo’Nay’s lip curled into a sneer. “You ate the apples, too. Now you call it dishonorable? That is pure vexxing bluffie kibl . You cling to a code that uses you, drains you, and discards you when it has done. And for what? So that the Vettian council can sit safely on their thrones while we burn ourselves out?”
“You think this is about them?” Zar’Ryn’s composure cracked, his voice rising to match First’s fury. “It is about discipline, about unity. Without the code, we are nothing but individuals, weak and aimless. You have already proven that by defying it.”
Jo’Nay stepped even closer, their faces mere inches apart now. “And you have proven that blind obedience makes you a puppet. You are so consumed by loyalty to a cause you don’t even question that you have forgotten how to live.”
The words struck like a blow, and for a moment, Zar’Ryn’s expression faltered, his jaw tightening as if to keep something buried. But the fire in his eyes returned just as quickly, fueled by the heat of his brother’s accusations.
“You are wrong,” he disputed. “I have not forgotten how to live. Ihave chosen to live with honor. Something you no longer understand.”
Jo’Nay barked a bitter laugh, his tone mocking. “Honor? Is that what you call this? Or is it just fear—fear of what happens if you let yourself be more than a weapon?”
The words hung in the air, sharp and cutting, and in that moment, the space between them felt suffocating. The argument teetered on the edge of something more, the anger and unresolved pain threatening to explode.
Zar’Ryn’s control began to slip, his frustration boiling over. Jo’Nay stepped closer, his jaw set with defiance, and he reacted without thought.
His fist connected with Jo’Nay’s jaw, the impact echoing through the sterile space. His First staggered but didn’t fall. Instead, he retaliated, his punch landing squarely against Zar’Ryn’sribs.
“Stop this!” Elara shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos, but neither heededher.
The room seemed to shrink as the two warriors clashed, their movements fierce and unrelenting. Each strike carried the weight of unspoken grievances, their conflict more than physical. It was a battle for identity, for the future, for what it meant to be an Intergalactic Warrior.
Tor’Vek remained still, his gaze unreadable as he watched the fight. Elara and Winn moved to the edges of the room, their emotions a palpable mix of fear and frustration.
Zar’Ryn felt the bond with Elara vibrate with intensity, her distress cutting through his focus like a blade. He didn’t want to stop. As the fiercest of his six brothers, the warrior capable of winning any battle, he desperately wanted to win this one. But Elara’s silent plea stilled him, forcing him to drop his fists.
He rocked back beneath a final hit from Jo’Nay, refusing to retaliate. The two men stepped apart, the breath heaving in their lungs.
Tor’Vek moved forward. “Shall we discuss why we are all here?” he asked. “Or would the two of you prefer to continue your physical altercation?”