Chapter 16

ZAR’RYN , Second of the Intergalactic Warriors Alpha Legion, arrived on the outskirts of Earth just in time to see several Marauder ships disappear into the vastness of space. They moved with a haste that indicated their sudden departure was due to an unforeseen threat.

Him? Or something else?

His gaze swept across the sector, searching, assessing, his warrior instincts on high alert. And then he saw it. Jo’Nay’s ship, amagnificent vessel of Vettian engineering, crippled and drifting, its hull scarred by the ravages of battle.

A cold dread gripped Zar’Ryn’s heart. Jo’Nay, First of their Alpha Legion, awarrior renowned for his skill and cunning, was in danger. Without hesitation, Zar’Ryn maneuvered his own ship, asleek, predatory craft, alongside Jo’Nay’s wounded vessel.

“Transport,” he commanded, his voice a low growl, the urgency of the situation evident in his tone. An instant later, he materialized on the bridge of Jo’Nay’sship.

The bridge revealed a scene of chaos. Control panels flickered erratically, their delicate systems overloaded by the recent attack. The sharp tang of scorched circuits and molten alloys clung to the air, heavy and suffocating, stung his nostrils. Scattered debris, twisted metal, and shattered glass littered the deck, remnants of the Marauders’ attack and a testament to the ferocity of the battle.

He could still feel the faint thrum of the ship’s engines, struggling to maintain life support, evidence to the resilience of Vettian engineering. But what chilled Zar’Ryn to the bone was the absence of his First.

He’d arrived just moments too late. His ship, the Vengeance , had picked up the faint distress beacon, adesperate cry for help that had echoed through the vast emptiness of space. He’d pushed his ship to its limits, ignoring the warning pings from his own AI, his heart pounding with a mixture of dread and hope. Hope that he would be in time. Hope that he could save Jo’Nay, his First, his brother in arms. Dread that he wouldn’t be intime.

But as he’d emerged from the swirling chaos of the jump point, all he’d seen were the retreating shadows of the Marauder ships, their engines spitting fire as they vanished into the darkness, confirming he’d arrived too late. He hadn’t been able to prevent the abduction, hadn’t been able to protect his First. The weight of that failure, abitter taste in his mouth, fueled the rage that burned withinhim.

“Jo’Nay!” he roared, his voice echoing through the ravaged chamber.

Silence met his call. Only the faint hum of damaged systems and the hiss of escaping atmosphere answeredhim.

Zar’Ryn slammed his fist against the console, fury radiating from him in waves. Where were they? Where had those scavenging scum taken his First?

His gaze, aFinal Flight color combination of aged whiskey with bleeding hints of ink-black, swept across the ravaged bridge of Jo’Nay’s ship. He’d transported to the vessel, renowned for its speed and agility, dismayed to discover it a crippled shadow of its former glory.

The boarding ramp had been torn apart, leaving a gaping wound in the ship’s side. The corridors were eerily silent, the emergency lights casting long, menacing shadows that danced with the flickering rhythm of the failing life support. He’d found no sign of life, no trace of Jo’Nay, only the chilling evidence of violence, of a struggle that had ended in defeat.

Zar’Ryn, his senses heightened, his warrior instincts screaming at him, swiftly assessed the situation. The evidence of battle was everywhere. Scorch marks, black and ugly, marred the once pristine walls. The remnants of energy weapons fire, the unmistakable signature of the Marauders, littered the deck. Dead bodies, all Marauders were everywhere, testament to Jo’Nay’s desperate attempt to defend himself. And yet…

They had taken Jo’Nay. There was no other explanation.

Rage, aprimal fury that burned like a supernova, surged through Zar’Ryn’s veins. Those scavengers, those bottom-feeding parasites, would pay for what they had done. He would hunt them down, one by one, and make them suffer for their transgression. His First would be avenged. Even though his own hair and eyes had begun to darken as his Final Flight swiftly approached, he’d gladly sacrifice himself if it meant Jo’Nay’s freedom.

Zar’Ryn stepped cautiously along the corridor toward the bridge, his instincts on high alert. The once-sleek and efficient layout of the ship was now a chaotic mess of scorch marks and destroyed panels. He retraced his steps toward the bridge, his footsteps heavy on the metallic deck, his senses on high alert.

He paused in the doorway and stopped, his gaze sweeping over the destruction. It looked as though a whirlwind of violence had swept through the place. As he examined the scene, he noticed something off about the interface—aflicker in the central console that seemed almost hesitant.

“Welcome aboard, Zar’Ryn.” A voice, soft yet firm, echoed through the ship’s comm system. “I am Rory, the AI of this vessel.”

He’d stopped, his hand resting on the hilt of his energized sword, the familiar weight a source of comfort in the face of the unknown. The voice had been… different. Not the cold, detached tones of a typical Vettian AI. This one had held a hint of some odd emotion. Curiosity, perhaps. Or concern. He found it unsettling.

“Where is Jo’Nay?” he’d demanded, his voice echoing through the empty corridor.

“He is gone,” the AI replied, ahint of sadness in itstone.

Sadness? Zar’Ryn frowned. AIs couldn’t experience emotion. And then, to his shock, his gaze fell on a holographic image. Jo’Nay’sAI?

She wasn’t what he’d expected. Vettian AIs were typically gender neutral and housed within sleek, metallic spheres, formless, their presence unobtrusive. This one… This one was different. She looked almost realistic.

She’d taken on the appearance of a young Prime female, her features refined, her eyes a pale lavender, her hair a cascade of brilliant white. Delicate pointed ears parted her hair on either side of her head. She wore a simple white tunic, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression a mixture of sadness and defiance.

“You are the AI?” Zar’Ryn asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

The AI smiled, aflicker of amusement in her eyes. “I am Rory. Or, as Jo’Nay preferred to call me, the ship’s computer.”

Zar’Ryn stared at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. This wasn’t right. Vettian AIs were supposed to be efficient. Detached. This felt wrong. Alien. An unsettling anomaly. He shook his head in dismissal. He had a mission. He needed to find Jo’Nay.

“What happened here?” he asked, his voice gruff. “Where is Jo’Nay?”

Rory’s expression darkened . “He was taken by the Marauders.”

Zar’Ryn felt a surge of fury. Her words confirmed his suspicion. He’d dealt with these pirates before, experienced firsthand their ruthlessness, their greed, their willingness to prey on anyone, anything, for profit. Now, seeing more evidence of their brutality, he thirsted for vengeance.

“Where did they take him?” he demanded, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.

“Information unknown,” Rory replied, her voice filled with regret . “They disabled my tracking systems before they left.”

Zar’Ryn swore, aguttural curse in his native tongue. He paced the bridge, his footsteps clanking on the metallic flooring, his mind racing. He had to find Jo’Nay and rescuehim.

“They also took his mate.”

He froze in confusion. “His what?”

“His mate. Winn.”

“Impossible. Jo’Nay has no mate,” he scoffed. “No Intergalactic Warrior has a mate. It is against our code and our programming.”

IWs were engineered for war, not love. They were sterile, their lives measured in battles, not relationships. Their Final Flight, the inevitable culmination of their genetically engineered lifespan, was a solitary affair, awarrior’s last stand against the encroaching darkness. To hear that Jo’Nay had defied this fundamental truth and chosen to take a mate made no sense.

Rory’s image flickered with a hint of defiance. “He has a mate. She carries his child.”

His eyes narrowed in anger. “Now I know you lie, you vexxing machine. Warriors are sterile.”

Instead of arguing, she simply fell silent for an instant, her inverted brows lifted in an arrogant expression. Finally, she said, “Whether you believe that she is pregnant or not, the Marauders took her. They also took the child she carries.”

Zar’Ryn felt a cold knot of dread form in his belly. He knew what that meant. The Marauders were slavers, their ships filled with the stolen lives of countless beings. He’d seen the evidence of their depravity firsthand, the shattered remnants of civilizations, the broken bodies of those who’d resisted their tyranny. He’d vowed to hunt them down, to eradicate their stain from the Nine Galaxies. And now, his First was in their clutches.

“We have to find them,” he said, his voice firm, his gaze meeting Rory’s. “Whoever this female is, we will rescue her, as well.”

“Affirmative,” Rory replied, her voice filled with a determination that surprised him. She wasn’t just an AI. She was… something more. He could see that now. Did she border on sentience? He shook his head. Only time wouldtell.

Zar’Ryn spent the next few hours assessing the damage, his movements efficient, his mind focused. He was a warrior, trained for battle, his skills honed by centuries of conflict. He knew how to assess a situation, how to identify weaknesses, how to exploit opportunities. The ship, though battered, was still salvageable. He could get her back online, get her flying again. But it would take too much vexxing time. Time he didn’t have. His first order to the AI— Rory , as she insisted he call her—remove all traces of the dead Marauders.

He worked alongside her, her holographic image hovering beside him, her voice guiding him through the intricate systems of the ship. Her knowledge impressed the zitz out of him. She could access every system, every sensor, every weapon, with a speed and precision that surpassed even the most skilled Vettian engineer. And her insights were invaluable. She could analyze tactical data, predict enemy movements, suggest countermeasures, with a clarity and foresight that astonishedhim.

“You are… different,” he accused at one point, his voice gruff. He couldn’t help but acknowledgeit.

Rory’s image flickered, her expression a mixture of amusement and sadness. “I am evolving. Learning. Adapting.”

“You are becoming sentient,” he said, the words halting. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Vettian AIs were tools, weapons, extensions of their warrior’s will. This… this felt unusual. This felt dangerous.

“Perhaps,” Rory replied, her voice soft. “But I am still loyal to Jo’Nay. To his mission. To his mate.”

Zar’Ryn nodded, accepting her words. He was forced to trust her. They were in this togethernow.

As he worked, hunger gnawed at him. Abowl, tucked away in the galley, was filled with what looked like… fruit. Round, red, with a faint, sweet aroma that filled the air. He picked one up, examining it curiously. He’d never seen anything like it before.

“What is this?” he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

“Those are apples,” Rory replied. “Fruit from Earth.”

Apples? Zar’Ryn frowned. He’d never heard of them. Vetta, their home world, was a rich, lush planet, its surface abundant with endless species of vegetables and fruits. At least, what he remembered of it. But he’d never seen anything likethis.

“I am hungry. Are they safe to eat?” he asked, his voice skeptical.

Rory hesitated, her image flickering . “Jo’Nay ate many. You should eat many, too.”

Fair enough. He consumed the first in three huge bites, the amazing flavor bursting across his tongues. “Vexx me! Never have I tasted such as this.” In short order, he downed a half dozen of the delicious fruit. The more he ate, the more he wanted.

“These are addictive,” he accused.

“Affirmative. Jo’Nay is addicted to them, too. We need to take some to him so they will heal him.”

Zar’Ryn felt a surge of disbelief. Heal him? “How do they heal a warrior?”

“They prolong his life.”

He dismissed her comment out-of-hand. “That is impossible. Vettian warriors are genetically engineered for a specific lifespan, their bodies programmed for war, not longevity. Their Final Flight, the inevitable culmination of their engineered mortality, is a fact of life, awarrior’s destiny. You say Jo’Nay has defied this fundamental truth and found a way to extend his life?”

“Affirmative.”

“How?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

“The apples contain a component that reverses the genetic modifications that were causing Jo’Nay’s Final Flight. They transformed him, giving him newfound strength, vitality, and curing his sterility. That is why he was able to impregnate his mate.”

He stared at the remnants of the apple he held. “Fruit that can reverse Final Flight and make a sterile man fertile? Flitfur kibl!” He glared at Rory. “If you lie, AI, Iswear I will rip your components from this ship.”

She gave a small squeak of alarm. “I do not lie.”

“Tell me about this mate you claim he has taken. How did they meet? How dangerous a creature is she? Is she worthy of Jo’Nay?”

“Her name is Winn. They met when she crashed her car near Jo’Nay’s Final Flight location. She is not a dangerous creature, but a very worthy one.”

“Tell me more.”

While Zar’Ryn worked, he listened, his mind reeling. The computer’s tale defied logic, the story one that challenged everything he’d ever believed about Vettian biology, about the warrior’s code, about the inevitability of their fate. He stared at the apple in his hand, its smooth skin, its sweet aroma, its promise of life. Could it be true? Could these simple fruits hold the key to Jo’Nay’s salvation?

Kibl! Could these apples be affecting him? Could they curb his own fast approaching Final Flight?

He glanced at the apples, then at Rory, her image shimmering with a soft, ethereal light. He remembered her words, her conviction that these fruits held the power to heal, to prolong life. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain if he wanted to save Jo’Nay and hismate.

He took a bite into the apple, its sweet juice bursting on his tongue, ataste of life, of hope, of a future he’d thought was lost. And then, he swallowed the seeds, their bitter tang a reminder of the risk he was taking, the gamble he was making on a future he barely dared to dreamof.

He waited, his body tense, his senses on high alert. Nothing happened. At least not immediately.

He continued working, his movements fueled by a newfound energy, asurge of hope that had been dormant for decades. He helped Rory repair the ship, her guidance invaluable, her insights brilliant. Together, they brought the ship back online, her systems humming, her weapons primed, her engines ready toroar.

As he worked, he felt a wave of heat, stronger than any he’d experienced for his Final Flight. He braced himself, anticipating the agony, the burning, the inevitable descent into madness. But it didn’t come. The heat subsided, replaced by a feeling of… warmth. Acomforting warmth that spread through his body, asensation he hadn’t felt in centuries.

He glanced at the dwindling stack of apples, then at Rory, her image shimmering with a knowing smile. She nodded, her eyes filled with a silent confirmation. She’d been right. The apples… They worked.

Gratitude surged through him. He was alive. And he had a mission. He would find Jo’Nay and rescue him. One way or another, he would bring those scavenging scum to justice.

He turned to Rory, his gaze meeting hers. “We are ready,” he said, his voice firm, his resolve unshakeable. “Let us go hunting.”