Arkon

ARKON

T he danger passed, Samira and I emerged from our hiding spot. We continued our trek through the dense jungle, the humid air clinging to our skin. Samira’s steps were light, almost graceful, as she navigated the treacherous terrain. It was too tempting to watch her more than our surroundings.

“So, ,” Samira said, breaking the silence. “What’s your story? How’d you end up as a bounty hunter?”

I stiffened. My past wasn’t something I enjoyed discussing. But her curious expression made me want to answer her with something, anything.

What exactly could I tell her?

Nothing came to mind. And then…”Well, there was this one time I was hired to track down a Xarlaxian diplomat’s prized pet. Turns out it was a sentient slime mold that had developed a taste for expensive liquor.”

Samira’s laughter rang out, bright and clear. “You’re joking.”

“I wish. I spent three days crawling through air ducts, following a trail of empty bottles and slime residue. Found the damn thing passed out in a maintenance closet, surrounded by empty Terran whiskey bottles.”

She grinned. “What happened next?”

“I scooped it into a containment unit and returned it to the diplomat. He was so grateful he paid me double. Though I think the slime mold was less than thrilled about going home.”

I felt something loosen in my chest. It was... nice, talking like this.

As we moved through the dense jungle, the absurdity of it all haunted me. Me, a hardened Vinduthi bounty hunter, moving side by side with the very woman I’d been sent to capture. Not only was I not delivering her to my employer, but I was helping her unravel the threads of a conspiracy that stretched across galaxies. The irony gnawed at me, yet somehow, the mission felt right.

We crested a hill, and the landscape opened up before us, a sprawling valley stretching as far as we could see. The sight stopped me in my tracks, stealing the breath from my lungs.

“By the dark…” I whispered, taking in the scene.

The valley was a churning ocean of strange, hypnotic plants. Their leaves glistened in blue and violet, shifting and shimmering as though alive with some dark pulse. Vines as thick as an arm snaked up the surrounding trees, their tips glowing with an intense pulse that felt almost like a heartbeat.

It was strange. Wrong.

Samira’s gaze hardened, her jaw set as she surveyed the alien landscape. “Those are the mind-control plants,” she said, her voice a mix of disgust and caution.

I couldn’t help but feel a twisted sort of awe. “They’re… beautiful,” I murmured. “Beautiful and deadly.”

Her mouth tightened, eyes narrowing as she scanned the valley floor. “Don’t let them fool you. Those things are predators,” she warned. “See those spores?” She pointed, and I followed her finger to the faint clouds of tiny, glowing motes drifting lazily in the air, like dust caught in a sunbeam.

“Those things?” I asked, unsettled.

“Breathe those in, and it’s over,” she said, a note of dread coloring her voice. “One breath, and your mind isn’t your own anymore. It only takes minutes.”

As I stared at the valley, a deep unease settled over me. The plants swayed, as if beckoning, their tendrils curling like outstretched fingers. This valley was a trap—a deadly beauty designed to lure in the unsuspecting, only to twist their minds into submission.

I scanned the area. “There,” I said, gesturing to a small structure nestled against the far side of the valley. “That looks like it could be our unmanned station.”

Samira squinted, then nodded. “How did you even see that? Good eye. It’s isolated, minimal security... exactly what we’re looking for.”

We settled in to observe, watching for guard patrols or security measures. Hours passed, the sun inching across the sky.

“I need to gather some plants for our meal,” Samira said eventually. “Come with me? I could use an extra set of hands.”

I nodded, following her as she casually identified edible flora.

Suddenly, a faint whirring sound caught my attention. I grabbed Samira’s arm, pulling her close.

“Drone,” I hissed.

We froze, hardly daring to breathe as the small, spherical device buzzed overhead. It paused briefly, its sensors sweeping the area. I held Samira tighter, willing us to blend into the undergrowth.

After what felt like an eternity, the drone moved on.

We waited several more minutes before daring to move again. Samira’s breath came in short gasps, her heart hammering against my chest.

“That was close,” she whispered.

I nodded, reluctantly releasing her. “Too close. Let’s finish up and get back to our observation point.”

The remainder of the day passed without incident. As night fell, we huddled together for warmth, not risking a fire that might draw attention.

“Tell me more about your work,” I said, genuinely curious. “What made you decide to take on the Consortium alone?”

Samira sighed, her body relaxing slightly against mine. “I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. When I figured it out... the scale of it... I knew I had to act.”

She continued talking, her passion evident in every word. Eventually, Samira’s words trailed off as she drifted to sleep. I stayed awake, keeping watch and pondering our situation.

Looking down at her sleeping form, I was struck by how small and fragile she appeared. Yet I knew the fire that burned within her. This woman, this brilliant, fearless human, had taken on an impossible task. Did she really think she could do it alone?

It dawned on me then. She wasn’t alone anymore. Somehow, without me even noticing, I’d become invested in her cause. In her.

As the sun rose, painting the sky in shades of green and gold, I made a silent vow. Whatever it took, whatever the cost, I would see this through. For Samira.

She starts to wake up, blinking up at me with a sleepy smile. “Morning. Ready to go?”

I nodded, pushing aside my tumultuous thoughts. “Let’s do this.”

We crouched behind a thick tangle of vines, observing the unmanned station. The structure squatted in the valley like a metal insect, its dull exterior blending with the surrounding rock formations. I studied every angle, every potential entry point, my vision picking out details a human would miss.

“There,” I murmured, pointing to a small service hatch near the base. “That’s our way in. The security looks minimal – probably relying on the isolation for protection.”

Samira leaned closer, her warm breath tickling my neck. “Are you sure? It seems too easy.”

I turned my head, our faces inches apart. Her scent, a mix of sweat and some exotic flower, filled my nostrils. “Trust me,” I said. “I’ve broken into far more secure facilities than this.”

She nodded, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. “Alright, I trust you. Let’s go.”

We made our way down the slope, careful to stay hidden in the dense foliage. As we drew closer to the station, Samira’s excitement became palpable. Her steps quickened, and a gleam entered her eyes that I hadn’t seen before.

“Just think of the data we could access,” she whispered. “With the right equipment, I might be able to synthesize a counteragent to the mind-control spores within a few weeks.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Easy,” I cautioned. “We’re not there yet.”

We were about fifty meters from the hatch when I noticed something odd. The ground ahead was covered in a carpet of delicate, silver-blue plants. Their leaves quivered slightly, despite the lack of wind.

I held out an arm, stopping Samira in her tracks. “Wait,” I said, my instincts screaming danger. “Something’s not right.”

Samira frowned, studying the plants. Her eyes widened in recognition. “Oh no,” she breathed. “Those are Xenovibris Sensoria. Highly sensitive to movement and vibration. If we step on them, they’ll set off an alarm that’ll make a Kraxian Banshee sound quiet.”

I cursed under my breath. Of course it couldn’t be simple. “How far do they extend?”

Samira scanned the area. “All the way to the station, as far as I can see. They must have planted them as a security measure.”

I weighed our options. We could search for another way around, but that would take time we didn’t have. We could attempt to clear a path, but that would likely trigger the plants’ defense mechanism.

As I pondered our next move, I noticed Samira had gone very still. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, that brilliant mind of hers no doubt racing through possibilities.

“,” she said slowly, “I have an idea. But you’re not going to like it.”