Page 18

The countdown on the screen flashed red, each descending number pulsing like a heartbeat about to stop. Sixty seconds. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight. I gripped the edge of the console, my fingertips white against the metallic surface.

Outside, the sounds of Zehn and Khaaz fighting the sentinel drones echoed through the facility’s walls. The rattle of weapons fire. The screech of metal. Their roars as they kept the perimeter safe while I tried to stop us all from being atomized.

“Come on, Everly. Think,” I muttered to myself, fingers flying across the alien keyboard that somehow responded to my touch. It wasn’t the first time I’d worked under pressure, but it was definitely the first time the pressure involved an actual bomb.

A particularly loud explosion shook the walls. My heart clenched at the thought of Zehn and Khaaz out there, their massive forms twisting and leaping as they battled mechanical sentinels. I’d insisted that I could do this, and dammit, I hated being wrong.

Forty-five seconds.

The screen before me filled with lines of code, cascading data, and security protocols.

My mind flashed back to the countless hours I’d spent debugging critical systems at my job.

The way my supervisors would pace behind me, muttering about deadlines and security breaches while I tuned them out, focusing only on the patterns in the code.

These patterns were different, but not entirely unfamiliar. The syntax had similarities to old legacy systems I’d worked with during government contracts. Systems so old they predated modern computing frameworks. Systems built on systems built on systems.

“That’s it,” I whispered, fingers moving faster. “This isn’t completely alien technology.”

Thirty seconds.

A metallic ping ricocheted off the reinforced door—a sound I now recognized as drone ammunition.

I heard Khaaz’s fierce growl in response, the protective fury in it making my skin flush despite the danger.

That skittish, gentle giant who still shied away from looking me directly in the eyes turned into something primal and deadly when it came to keeping me safe.

I focused back on the screen, scanning the symbols and algorithms. Certain command structures looked eerily similar to those I’d seen in my work—too similar to be coincidence. I pulled up another screen, this one containing what appeared to be research files.

Twenty seconds.

“Project Kridrin,” I read aloud, my eyes widening as images flashed across the screen. Humanoid figures, anatomical diagrams, genetic sequences.

“Holy shit.”

The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow.

The Kridrin weren’t just aliens. They were humans—or at least, they had been.

Humans from another dimension, another version of space-time.

Humans who had evolved differently, adapted differently.

The file mentioned “dimensional divergence approximately 100,000 years ago.”

Which explained why the facility was responding to me at all. Why the keyboard accepted my touch. Why I could read some of the code.

Fifteen seconds.

A deep boom rattled the entire facility.

Through the security feed in the corner of my screen, I caught a glimpse of Zehn in his Beast Battle form, a nine-foot nightmare of muscle and fury, tearing a sentinel drone in half with his bare hands.

Even through the grainy footage, I could see the fierce determination in his eyes.

He’d promised to protect me, and he was keeping that promise with every fiber of his massive being.

Ten seconds.

My attention snapped back to the countdown. I had to stop it, but how? If the Kridrin were humans from another timeline, then maybe...

“DNA authentication,” I murmured, spotting a small panel beside the main console. It looked almost like a fingerprint scanner, but larger. Without hesitating, I pressed my palm against it.

The panel glowed blue beneath my hand, a tingling sensation spreading up my arm as it scanned me. For a terrifying moment, nothing happened.

Five seconds.

Four.

Three.

The countdown froze. The red numbers blinked once, twice, then shifted to green.

“DNA sequence recognized. Welcome back, Administrator,” a mechanized voice announced, the gender-neutral tone echoing around the chamber. “Facility defense protocols disengaged.”

I sagged against the console, relief making my knees weak. “Administrator? What the hell?”

The screens before me shifted, displaying new information. Project files. Research data. And my own DNA sequence, spinning in a double helix beside a comparative analysis with something labeled “Kridrin Prime Sample.”

The match wasn’t perfect—not even close—but there were enough similarities that the ancient system had accepted me as one of its masters. Somewhere in my genetic code, I carried markers that this facility recognized as authorized. As if my ancestors had been here before. Or built this place.

My mind reeled with the implications. If the Kridrin were humans from another timeline, and this facility recognized my DNA, then what did that mean about Earth’s history? About my own lineage?

Outside, I could still hear the sounds of battle. The drones hadn’t stopped their attack.

“Computer,” I called out, hoping the voice recognition would work as well as the DNA scanner had. “Identify active security measures.”

“Perimeter defense systems active. Nineteen sentinel units currently engaged.”

Nineteen? And my two leopard men were holding them off? A rush of pride mingled with fear.

“Deactivate all sentinel units,” I commanded. “Authorization...” I hesitated, then took a chance. “Authorization: Everly Flores.”

For a moment, there was silence.

“Voiceprint insufficient,” the computer responded. “Secondary authentication required.”

Damn it. I glanced at the DNA panel, which still glowed with my handprint. “Use DNA authentication as secondary.”

The panel pulsed brighter. “Processing... Authentication accepted. Deactivating sentinel units.”

Through the security feed, I watched as the drones froze mid-action.

One had been leaping toward Khaaz, its metal claws extended.

Another had been firing at Zehn, who was using the remnants of a previous drone as a shield.

They all simply powered down, slumping to the ground or hovering in place before their propulsion systems disengaged, sending them crashing to the floor.

The sudden silence was almost as shocking as the previous battle sounds had been.

I exhaled slowly, running shaking hands through my hair. My black strands were damp with sweat, and I realized my whole body was trembling with adrenaline.

“Computer, what is Project Kridrin?” I asked, turning back to the main console.

“Project Kridrin: Interdimensional Genetics Research Initiative,” the computer responded. “Established to study genetic divergence across dimensional boundaries.”

“And who am I? I mean, why did my DNA work to stop the countdown?”

“DNA analysis indicates subject is descendant of research team beta-six. Access level: Administrator.”

Research team? So my ancestors had been scientists here? The entire concept seemed impossible, and yet... here I was, standing in an alien facility that responded to my touch, my voice, my very genetic code.

“When was this facility last active?” I asked.

“Last active user login: 3,724 local cycles ago.”

However long a “local cycle” was, it had clearly been a very long time. Perhaps this place had been abandoned when Earth’s societies had collapsed during some prehistoric calamity, only to rise again with no memory of what had come before. The thought was dizzying.

The reinforced door slid open with a pneumatic hiss. I spun around, instinctively backing up against the console, before recognizing the massive figures that filled the doorway.

Zehn entered first, his Beast Battle form gradually shifting back to his still-impressive seven-foot height.

Golden eyes scanned the room for threats before settling on me with an intensity that made my stomach flip.

Behind him, Khaaz moved more cautiously, his scarred body tense as he assessed the situation.

“Everly,” Zehn rumbled, his deep voice washing over me like a physical caress. “The machines stopped. Did you...?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice cracking slightly. I cleared my throat. “I stopped them. And the bomb, too.”

Khaaz remained near the doorway, his skittish nature reasserting itself now that the immediate danger had passed. But his eyes never left me, filled with a mixture of awe and something deeper I wasn’t ready to name.

“How?” Zehn asked, stepping closer. His massive form moved with a predatory grace that belied his size, and despite the danger we’d just escaped, I found my body responding to his proximity in ways that were becoming familiar but no less overwhelming.

“It’s... complicated,” I said, gesturing to the screens behind me. “But it turns out I’m kind of related to the people who built this place. Or at least, the system thinks I am.”

Zehn’s eyes narrowed, his head tilting in a way that reminded me of a curious cat. “Related how?”

“The Kridrin,” I explained, watching both males stiffen at the word.

“They weren’t just aliens. They were humans—or what humans became in another dimension.

According to these files, there was some kind of dimensional split about a hundred thousand years ago.

Different evolution, different adaptations, but the same base species. ”

Khaaz made a soft sound, something between surprise and recognition. It was the most I’d heard from him in a non-battle situation.

I turned back to the console, bringing up more files.

“It looks like this facility was researching dimensional genetics. Trying to understand how humans evolved differently across different timelines. My DNA is similar enough to the research team’s that the system recognized me as an administrator. ”

Zehn moved closer, the heat of his body radiating against my back. “So you commanded the machines to stop.”

“I did,” I confirmed, still somewhat amazed by it myself.

His large hand settled on my shoulder, gentle despite its size. “My clever mate,” he murmured, the pride in his voice sending a warm shiver down my spine.

From the doorway, Khaaz watched us with those intense eyes, his scarred face unreadable. But I could see the tension in his powerful frame, the way his claws flexed at his sides. He wanted to approach but held himself back.

I made a decision then, extending my hand toward him. “We should look through these files. Both of you. There might be information about the Rodinians too.”

Khaaz hesitated, glancing at Zehn as if seeking permission. Something unspoken passed between the two males before Khaaz stepped forward, moving cautiously to my other side.

“I knew you were special from the first moment I scented you,” Zehn said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my entire body. “But even I did not imagine this.”

I looked between the two massive leopard men—one confident and commanding, the other scarred and skittish but no less deadly—and felt a strange sense of belonging I’d never experienced before.

Whatever mysteries this facility held, whatever answers it might provide about my own heritage and the connection between humans and Kridrin, I knew one thing for certain: I wasn’t facing it alone.

“Let’s find out what else this place can tell us,” I said, turning back to the console with renewed determination. The screens glowed with ancient knowledge, waiting to be unlocked.