Chapter 20 - Ayden
I stare at the guy across the table. He’s sweating, even though the AC is blasting.
His bluish fur, typical of Neerots, clings to his damp skin, slick with fear.
His wide, dark eyes avoid mine. He’s shaking a little, his claws occasionally scraping against the metal cuffs.
He’s not made for this. Not for violence, not for the cold walls of this place.
I wonder how he ended up working on Vagantu, what led him straight here—to Penal Station Nine, a floating prison in the far reaches of the quadrant.
The room is bare, utilitarian. Gray composite walls, a flickering overhead light, a table bolted to the floor, a chair on either side. A one-way mirror lets my team watch the interrogation from the other side.
“You know why you’re here, don’t you?” I say, my voice low, sharp.
Igor sits next to me, playing his part perfectly. He’s the good cop—the one who smiles, speaks gently, makes it seem like you can trust him. I’m the other one. The one you’re afraid of. The one who doesn’t hold back if you push the wrong button.
“Listen,” Igor starts, calm and reassuring. “We’re not here to make trouble. We just want information. You help us, we help you. Simple as that.”
The Neerot nods nervously. His name’s Booril. A low-ranking guard from the Vagantu compound, according to his file. Not a fighter. Not a killer. Just a guy who made some really bad choices. Maybe he never had a choice at all. But right now, he’s stuck between us, and I need answers.
“We’re looking for someone,” I say, leaning across the table. “A colleague of ours. According to our sources, he went missing on Vagantu just before your sick little operation got shut down. Did you see him?”
I show him the tablet—Logan’s face, his eyes, that unmistakable look that leaves a mark.
Booril swallows. His throat makes a clicking sound—a reflex of his species. He hesitates.
“I didn’t see anything,” he mutters. “There was so much movement down there. After a while, you just stop noticing.”
I stand up slowly and walk around the table. His breathing quickens. I lean in close to his ear. His long whiskers twitch.
“Wrong answer.”
Igor raises a calming hand.
“Booril, we know you’re afraid of talking about your old crew. A lot of the guys from Vagantu ended up right here in Station Nine. But we can protect you from them,” Igor explains.
“If you don’t talk now, those guys you’re so afraid of? They won’t even get the chance to deal with you. Because I’ll get there first,” I growl.
He can’t know that I won’t actually hurt him. Not inside a Confed facility. The rules are clear: prisoners must be treated with empathy. Even the scumbags who traded in living beings. I’m not sure I always agree with our noble principles. Eye for an eye seems more effective to me.
I glare at him, letting him see the fury behind my eyes. It works. He folds. His shoulders slump, his fur bristling in patches.
“He… he was there. Came in with a shipment of slaves. Fulord—the guy who brought him—thought something was off and said he wanted to see Noviosk.”
“Noviosk?” I repeat, recognizing the name we’ve heard before.
“The boss of Vagantu. A Srebat.”
I straighten up. My heart pounds. Igor gives me a tense look. We both know what that means. Srebats are infamous in the Confed. Powerful, ruthless, with a freakish talent for detecting lies. If Logan had to face this Noviosk directly… I dread what might’ve come next.
“What happened?” I ask.
Booril shakes his head, tears already welling in his eyes, dripping into the fur on his cheeks.
I crouch down in front of him, locking eyes.
“Talk.”
“They’ll k-k-kill me if I t-t-talk about N-N-Noviosk!” he stammers.
Igor gives me a subtle signal. He’s going to ease the tension.
“Booril, your file says you didn’t join the Coalition by choice, right? I can push for your transfer—to a rehabilitation center instead of staying here. Those are for people who weren’t truly evil. Not like this Noviosk guy.”
“Yes! That’s right! I didn’t have a choice!” Booril blurts out.
“We always have a choice,” I mutter, not hiding my contempt.
“I was a slave under the old boss—Xhor. When Noviosk took over, he sorted through us. The weak or broken ones didn’t make it.
The rest… he gave them an ultimatum: die, or join his new operation.
He needed staff for the changes he wanted.
So he recruited desperate people—turned them into cooks, guards, maintenance crew. ”
I pause, begrudgingly impressed. That was smart. Noviosk built a loyal workforce for cheap. Ruthless, but clever.
“As Igor said,” I press, “we can transfer you out. It’s clear you didn’t choose to support that disgusting trade, right?”
“N-No, I swear!” Booril whimpers.
“Then prove it. Give us everything,” I order, my voice snapping like a whip. He flinches.
He’s done fighting. He slumps in his chair. We’re finally going to find out what happened to Logan.
“Noviosk came to question the Human—your colleague. He figured out he was with the Confed. That he was a threat to the whole operation.”
My chest tightens. Every cell in my body braces for what I already suspect. No smart boss who built an empire like Vagantu would let a Confed agent slip through. I want to ask the question—but I can’t. My stomach’s twisted. Igor sees it and steps in.
“What happened to our colleague, Booril?”
“Fulord executed him. He brought the Human in. Made a mistake. So he fixed it—before the Human could bring the whole thing down.”
Even though I expected it, the confirmation knocks the wind out of me. If Logan hadn’t contacted us, it was either because he was captured—or dead. I had hoped so hard for the first option.
I lift my eyes to Igor. He looks as shattered as I feel. This news cuts deep.
“We’ll take over,” Jason says as he enters with Xenon.
I nod, slowly, numbly, and step out of the room steeped in death. I’m grateful they’re taking over. Booril’s ready to spill everything now. We’d be fools not to squeeze every last drop of intel out of him. But not me. Not right now.
Igor stands beside me, frozen, shell-shocked.
Suddenly, Vlad pulls me into a hard, almost brutal hug—but somehow, it helps. Without a word, he extends an arm, inviting Igor in. We hold each other in silence, as if we could keep from falling apart by sheer force of will.
I feel Vlad’s breath, quick and unsteady, on my temple. Igor’s hands are clenched against his back. None of us speaks. We don’t need to.
This pain is raw, silent. The kind that doesn’t scream—it just burns. It grabs your throat and leaves you hollow, unable to think about anything except the friend you’ve lost, the goodbye you never got to say.
I shut my eyes. In the darkness, I see Logan—his eyes, his laugh, his sarcasm, his wild joy that reminds me so much of Sam. And now… he’s gone. Leaving behind a cold, endless hole.
When Vlad finally loosens his grip, it feels like the world breathes again. Igor steps back too, red-eyed but dry. He hasn’t cried yet. Neither have I. But we will. Later. When there’s nothing left to do.
For now, we move forward. For him. Because he would’ve done the same for us. And I have to tell Sam.
We turn toward the one-way glass. Jason and Xenon are working Booril over for details. We leave him to them. We’ll need to report this to Akifumi. And I’ll be requesting leave. I need to go to Gekkaria. She can’t hear it from anyone but me.
I clear the main viewport of our ship, and Gekkaria appears—small, vibrant, and weirdly beautiful. A planet with hues that shift between ochre, purple, and violet. Its density’s a little off compared to Confederation bases, but our AI’s been gradually adjusting us for days now.
“Where are we going?” Igor asks, leaning forward in his seat. “"To the colony or straight into the forest where she lives?”
“Nice,” Vlad comments, squinting at the multicolored terrain. “I forgot how unique the colors are here. But Igor’s right—where do we have the best shot at finding our little blonde?”
My little blonde, I repeat silently.
“She’s probably with those Gekkaris she lives with,” I say, already typing coordinates. “Let’s head there directly.”
“A two-seater ship is currently stationed in the target zone,” the AI announces in her usual robotic monotone.
“Who’s it registered to?” Vlad asks.
“It was assigned to Agent Logan during his last mission to Gekkaria,” she replies.
“I stayed behind on BN-22 while he went to get his sister," Igor explains. "I remember that two-seater. Sam’s message said that after she was freed from Vagantu, she recovered the ship and flew back home. If it’s still parked there, that’s a good sign.”
Relief hits me like a fist to the chest. She’s here. Safe. Probably. But then again… I’m the one bringing the storm.
The two-seater comes into view, tucked between a rocky ridge and a patch of glowing moss. We land beside it without wasting time.
I jump out before the others can even unstrap. No need to alarm the shy Gekkaris by barging in as a group. Let the diplomatic guy go first.
I pass a few of them along the trail and greet them the way Sam taught me—open hands, slight bow.
Their skin flickers to shimmering shades of green.
According to Sam, colors matter. They don’t use sign language naturally; they adopted it just to communicate with her.
Green probably means something like “hi, friendly alien coming through,” right?
Soon, two Gekkaris approach me. One of them, slightly bulkier and bright-eyed, steps forward.
"He’lo Ah’den!" he greets me, and I’m guessing this must be Goulou, Sam’s buddy.
“Hello, Goulou! I came to see Sam!”
“Zam leff!” he replies solemnly.
Damn. She probably went to Gekkar Creek to trade some of her miracle creams.
“Ah fyoo days ah-go,” he adds.
What ? Few days ago ?
“Zam’s huh. … din’ gum bahg!”
“You’re saying she got hurt, left days ago? And didn’t come back?” I try to piece it together.
“Ba! Leff wif Nov! Din’ gum bahg!”
Wait, wait, wait. She left with Nov?
“Nov? He was here?”
“Ba,” he nods. “Nov huh. Zam we-pai-in’ Nov!”
No. No way. There’s no freaking way. How many wounded, hairy giants named Nov can there be in this galaxy? What are the odds Sam patched up that Nov—the ex-boss of Vagantu? The one we assumed was dead but never found?
“Can you describe him for me?” I ask, heart pounding.
“Beeg wahn!” he says, raising his hand well above his head. “cuvahd in heh” he adds, pointing to his arms and torso.
Yup. Big one? Covered in hair? That’s our guy. Sam’s with him.
My stomach knots into a lead weight.
“When did she disappear?”
“Zeka’ Cleag! Ah fyoo days,” he says, holding up six fingers.
Six days.
I turn and sprint back to our ship like hell’s chasing me.
I burst inside so fast Vlad nearly drops his drink.
“Igor, fire up the thrusters! We’re headed to Gekkar Creek.”
“Whoa, slow down, man! What’s going on?”
“Sam… she left with Noviosk. The Noviosk.”
“"That can’t be,” Vlad argues. “That bastard died on Vagantu. What would he be doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“His body was never found!” I snap. “And according to Goulou, she nursed a tall, hairy giant named Nov back to health.”
Vlad goes pale. Igor just looks wrecked.
We take off immediately. It doesn’t take long to reach the town, but the news we get hits like a wrecking ball.
The doctor confirms that Sam came in a few days ago, poisoned by one of her own potions. And she was brought in by a Srebat. He recognized the species instantly when we showed him the tablet. The Srebat gave his name as Nov.
No doubt about it—our ghost from Vagantu is alive and playing house with my blondie.
Even worse? Felone, some two-bit local drug lord, ambushed the guy and took him captive… along with Sam.
Bonus irony? Nov saved her life, only to get snatched by a dealer in need of leverage.
We interrogated one of Felone’s drunk flunkies outside a saloon and managed to get the location of their base. It’s not far, just well hidden.
“We’ll have to split up” Vlad proposes. “I’ll get captured and infiltrate the place. You two hang back, wait for my signal, and maybe pull in Jason and Xenon. Akifumi might even lend us backup. He’ll love the chance to dismantle a Coalition outpost.”
“I’m in,” I say immediately. “But I’m the one going.”
“You sure about that?” Igor asks. “Wouldn’t it be smarter to wait for reinforcements?”
“Sam’s in there," Vlad and I answer in unison.
“Okay, say no more.”
But Vlad isn’t backing down. He crosses his arms, glaring at me.
“Ayden, buddy, it’s a bad idea. You’re too… emotionally invested. If they hurt her, you’ll lose it. I should go instead.”
“It’s not a debate, Vlad. I’m going. With or without you.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“You’ve never lost your temper, huh?”
“Not in years. Not since training. And not with Sam. I’ll keep it together.”
He frowns, unconvinced.
“Let’s not kid ourselves. You’re in love with her. That’s dangerous.”
“First of all, I’m NOT in love with her,” I say, maybe a bit too loud. “I’ve known her since she was a kid. We were there to recruit Logan, remember?”
“If you say so,” he mutters.
“Second of all, I will stay focused. And third—again—I’m going. Deal with it.”
Vlad lifts his hands in mock surrender.
“Fine, fine! You’re the one going on vacation. Take the two-seater. Track her down. Keep her safe. We’ll prep the rescue mission.”
“Glad we’re on the same page,” I say, heading to the exit.
“Right. You sip cocktails under the stars while Igor and I do the real work,” he calls after me.
“Exactly. I’ll ask Sam to make me a pina colada while she recounts her thrilling kidnapping story. Dream date, huh?”
“Want me to pack a lounge chair for you?”
“Only if it comes with a tropical playlist. Skip the metal though—I don’t think Sam’s ready for that.”
Vlad sighs.
“Seriously, Ayden… you sure you’ve thought this through? What’s your actual plan?”
“My plan is called Improvisation. I get near their base, get myself caught… then wing it.”
“You have a real gift for making bad ideas sound almost reasonable.”
“Thanks. Jason taught me.”
Vlad chuckles.
“Go get your girl. But if you die, I’m taking your jacket. That thing’s awesome.”
“Deal. But if I make it back with Sam, you’re buying drinks.”
“And if you bring her back and survive?”
“Then I’m never letting her go.”