Always on Time
T he vibrations of the Cephei’s thrusters were a backdrop to the cocoon of warmth in Kisan’s quarters.
The room was lit only by the ambient glow of the ship’s systems filtering through the bulkhead.
Kisan and Samira lay tangled beneath silk sheets, pressed close, skin still damp from their shared heat.
Kisan draped his arm over Samira’s waist, his fingers tracing idle patterns along her side. Her dark hair spilled over his chest, and she sighed with contentment, her breath warm as it wafted over his ink.
He brushed his lips to her forehead, inhaling the floral scent of her pores.
Their stillness felt sacred, a brief reprieve from the chaos that waited beyond the walls.
‘Kisan,’ Mirage’s node intoned, its dulcet tones cutting through the quiet. ‘We’re on approach to Skardis. Estimated arrival: one hour.’
Neither of them moved.
‘We could stay here forever,’ Samira murmured, her voice husky with sleep. ‘Let Skardis wait.’
Kisan chuckled, his torso rumbling against her cheek. ‘I don’t think Sax is the kind of guy you leave hanging around. Got to watch him in case he wanders off and stirs shit up.’
‘At this moment, right here, I don’t care about Sax,’ she said, tilting her face to look at him.
Her eyes glimmered, and the slight smile on her lips sent a pang through Kisan’s chest. ‘The last few days have been- I don’t have the words - bliss, maybe. A dangerous bliss.’
‘How?’ Kisan asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
‘Because it makes me forget what’s waiting for me to fix,’ she murmured, her expression fading. ‘It compels me to let go of the war, the kids, the constant fighting for a few brief moments, giving me relief. What happens to us after this?’
Kisan’s expression softened, his viridescent eyes glowing in the dim light. ‘We’ll figure it out when we get over the current predicament. One battle at a time. But you have to promise me something, kaissa .’
‘What?’ she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
‘That we both outlive this battle and conflict. No heroics, no unnecessary risks. You survive, I survive. Deal?’
She nodded, her throat tightening as she whispered, ‘Deal.’
Her wrist comm buzzed, and she reached for it, her face softening as she swiped open the tight-beam holo contained in the incoming comm.
Shining after a warm bath, Malik and Liora’s faces appeared, blowing her good night kisses.
‘Say hi to Kisan,’ they added before her aunt shushed them, and the video faded to black.
Knifing up and angling the phone so that her nudity and that of Kisan’s were hidden, she recorded her goodnight message and sent it.
Samira twisted her head, her eyes misted, and her gaze distant. ‘I miss them,’ she whispered.
Kisan reached for her and pulled her to him. ‘They know you’re fighting for them. They’re strong because of you.’
She smiled, resting her head against him. ‘You’re good at this, you know. Reassuring me.’
‘Comes with the territory,’ he rasped, his tone grave as he added, ‘If we survive this, maybe more kids will be required.’
Samira froze, her breath catching. She pushed herself up, staring at him. ‘Did you just—what?’
Kisan tried to hold her gaze but failed, his eyes flickering away. ‘I didn’t mean to—’ He stopped, his utterance thick. ‘Forget it.’
‘ Nada ,’ she said, her hands cradling his face. ‘Don’t you dare downplay what you just said.’
Her thumbs brushed his cheeks, her eyes softening as she leaned in to kiss him. ‘You want that? A future with me?’
He nodded. ‘I never thought I’d want anything like it, didn’t think I deserved it. But with you, it doesn’t seem impossible.’
Samira’s lips curved into a smile, and she kissed him again, this time deeper, their connection reigniting as they clung to each other.
Mirage chimed again, her elevated inflection cutting through their haze. ‘We’re in Skardis airspace, people. Please prepare for landing.’
Samira groaned, burying her face in Kisan’s neck. ‘Ignore her.’
‘I’d love to,’ Kisan rasped with a wry grin. ‘But we’ve got a rogue monk to wrangle.’
She nipped at his collarbone. ‘He can wait.’
‘Samira,’ he grunted, his tone shifting to mock sternness. ‘Get up.’
‘ Nada .’
‘Up,’ he insisted, rolling her off him with a simper as she protested.
She twisted in his embrace, laughing as they tumbled across the bed.
He pinned her down, his tattoos glowing against his skin as he loomed above her.
For a moment, he hesitated, his aqua eyes searching hers. ‘ Fokk , I adore you.’
‘And I you,’ she whispered back, reaching for him.
Caught off guard, she gave a tiny scream when, with a wicked leer, he swung her into his arms. ‘Shower. Now.’
‘You’re no fun,’ she grumbled as he strode toward the bathroom door with her in his arms.
‘Woman, you’re stalling,’ he rasped, placing her feet down and giving her ass a playful tap. ‘Get in, or I’m dragging you in myself.’
She glared at him over her shoulder, but the hint of a smile betrayed her. ‘You win. For now.’
As the spray hissed to life behind the closed door, Kisan moved to the guest quarters, took a rushed sonic rinse, dressed, and headed for the galley.
The scent of fresh kahawa soon filled the air.
He poured two cups and set them on the table just as Samira emerged, her dark hair damp and curling against her shoulders. Kisan reached for her and gave her a long, languorous kiss.
‘Eat,’ he commanded, his eyes lingering on her longer than necessary, pushing her down onto the booth.
The Cephei’s mess was a small, efficient space with polished steel counters and built-in panels displaying data on their trajectory.
Plates of eggs, bacon, hot rolls, and re-hydrated fruit sat between them.
Samira studied the glowing readouts over Kisan’s shoulder as they ate.
‘Skardis,’ she mused, reading the facts. ‘A mixed planet?’
‘Arid in some parts, lush in others,’ Kisan confirmed. ‘The forests and mountainous plateaus keep the place livable, but the prairie is brutal—scorched during the day and freezing at night. It’s a farming-based economy. With enough beauty, sage bushes, incense altars, and anonymity for space hippies, roving priests, and crims on the run, who all coexist under the care of a benevolent government.’
The descent to Skardis was smooth, the Cephei’s thrusters burning bright as they entered the atmosphere.
The view below shifted, the planet revealing itself in vibrant detail. Vast stretches of arid plains stretched toward the horizon, broken by ribbons of blue where rivers snaked through the land.
Forests clustered along the foothills of towering mountain plateaus, their emerald canopies stark against the bronze mantle.
The spaceport rose from one of the larger highland cities, a sprawling hub of activity surrounded by terraced fields and scattered settlements.
As the Cephei touched down, the ship’s systems hissed and whirred, the scent of heated metal mingling with the dry air filtering in.
Kisan sent a quick message to Sax via his neural node.
Brother, we’ve landed in Dock 12. See you in ten. We dust off as soon as you arrive.
He got no response—Zilch, zero - just a static buzz.
‘ Fokk ,’ he cursed.
‘What?’ Samira asked, flicking him a rapid glance.
‘No answer, typical,’ he muttered, his emerald eyes narrowing. ‘He’s always late yet somehow manages to show up just in time. Probably off chasing some other crisis.’
Samira raised an eyebrow. ‘Are we waiting for him, or will we find him?’
‘We’re finding him,’ Kisan said, grabbing his gear. ‘If he’s tangled up in some shitshow, we need to untangle him. Lest he lurches onto the next one, and our mission goes tits up.’
The spaceport was a bustling hive of activity, its platforms teeming with travelers, merchants, and local workers.
The rumble of engines and the occasional burst of static from comms channels filled the air, mixing with the shouts of traders hawking wares from makeshift stalls.
The people of Skardis were a mix of hardened settlers and wandering merchants.
Their clothes reflected the planet’s extremes—layered fabrics for cold nights and lightweight but durable fabrics for scorching days. Many wore protective scarves around their necks, and goggles hung from their collars, ready to shield their eyes from the bright sunlight.
Samira’s gaze lingered on a group of children darting between the booths, their laughter carrying above the din. Nearby, a vendor sold exotic fruits, their vivid colors a distinct contrast to the muted tones of the arid surroundings.
The scent of spices and roasted meat drifted from a food stand, making her stomach rumble despite their recent meal.
Kisan’s attention snapped to one side as a disturbance rose near the platform’s edge.
A distinct growl, followed by raised voices and the thud of something heavy hitting the ground.
‘ Fokk , that snarl’s too familiar. Let’s move,’ the Rider said, his tone clipped as he stalked toward the commotion.
On approach, the scene became clear.
A man in a white cassock loomed in the middle of the spaceport, his towering frame impossible to miss.
His dusky, inked skin gleamed under the harsh light, his muscles rippling as he pounded his fists on several unlucky thugs.
Samira arched a brow. ‘That him?’
Kisan jerked his chin. ‘’Tis. The fokker is only happy when he’s choke-slamming dill holes spine-first into the ground.’
As he spoke, a ruffian crumpled at the shrouded man’s feet, groaning.
As if alerted to their presence, Sax glanced at Kisan and gave his mate a head jerk in acknowledgment.
With a grunt, he grabbed another whining gangster by the collar and threw him into a nearby cargo crate.
Two priests stood a short distance away, their robes dusty and rumpled. Their eyes were fixed on their unlikely savior.
The cloaked man hauled the second kinai to his toes, growling into his face. ‘Think you can rob holy men?’ he growled, his face cold, dangerous. ‘Not on my sacri-fokkin-legious watch.’
With a push of his sinewed, muscled arms, he shoved the sniveling goon toward a pair of approaching constables clad in dark uniforms with polished badges.
‘Here’s your trash. Do something useful with them.’
The law enforcement officers nodded and hauled the thugs away, nonplussed by the shrouded man’s intervention.
Sax dusted off his hands, his gaze sweeping the crowd before landing on Kisan and Samira.
‘You’re late,’ the Rider said, his tone even.
Sax’s eyes narrowed. ‘This her?’
‘Brother,’ Kisan began, stepping forward, ‘behave.’
Sax crossed his burly, sinewed hands over his inked skin, which showed under his flowing tunic and cassock. His presence was as unyielding as the mountains looming in the distance.
Samira studied him. Damn, he was arresting. Brutish and rugged, too, an untamed and unholy soul.
She estimated he had legions of women chasing after him, and she also imagined he flicked them off, focused on his causes. Making him even more irresistible.
Thank fokk for Kisan and her solid attraction to him.
The holy man’s forbidden aura might have led her astray without it.
‘Why am I risking my blessed existence for your girlfriend?’ Sax drawled, his eyes glittering, raking her as if he’d read her thoughts.
She glowered at him in a warning.
Kisan’s glowing emerald eyes, also assessing the unspoken exchange with a smirk, flicked to his mate. ‘Because the enemy she fights is made up of soldiers kitted with crat tech.’
Sax’s eyes squinted with menacing intent. ‘ Fokk , why didn’t you lead with that?’
‘Couldn’t risk our chatter getting picked up. So I’m saying it in person.’
Sax’s expression remained skeptical. ‘Regardless, is this freakin’ mission essential?’
Kisan cursed under his breath. ‘We’re up against our darkest enemy, brother, so naam , it’s freakin’ essential.’
Sax snorted. ‘I’m not convinced.’
Kisan moved with a speed that belied his size, gripping Sax’s arm.
Samira’s brows shot up as her man’s glowering menace spilled from his flashing eyes.
She was reminded of how tall, muscled, and savage he was as he faced off with his mate, an equally terrifying brute in his own right.
‘I’mma transmit a data packet to your neural node,’ Kisan growled.
Sax stiffened, his scowl sharp enough to cut steel.
‘You know I hate when you do that,’ he snarled.
‘Quit whining and just view the footage, mofo,’ Kisan ground out, tapping his temple.
Sax’s eyes dilated.
The Rider wrenched himself away as the images of Orilia’s devastation played out in Sax’s mind—scorched land, shattered cities, torn families, visions of the Corilians toting crat cyborg components.
When it ended, the Sarabaite exhaled, his fists clenching and unclenching.
He nailed Kisan with a long glare. ‘We made a solid promise always to eliminate the crats wherever we came across them,’ he said, his tone grudging. ‘So I’m in. However, if this goes sideways, don’t expect me to play nice.’
He prowled a few feet to where an amulet bag lay discarded on the ground.
Swinging it over his shrouded head, he arranged its straps to sit cross-ways over his muscled chest, then strode toward the spaceport without warning or preamble.
Kisan and Samira exchanged glances before tracking after the tall, brawny, cassocked man.