Page 22

CHAPTER 22

T he cockpit sealed with a soft hiss behind him, and Kyhin moved with precision, every step measured, every motion honed by instinct and repetition. The air inside was cool, filtered, laced with the sterile scent of alloy and fuel.

He seated himself in the command cradle and pressed his palm to the console.

The holo flared to life, an array of translucent symbols and three-dimensional projections rising from the interface like ghost-light. Enemy signals blinked red in a wide arc behind the Lyxai , converging fast. Kroll interceptors. A dozen of them.

He had been found.

It could only mean one thing.

The Orokin—the bastards who had paid him to eliminate Ambassador Erkin—had sold him out. Leaked his location to the Kroll for a higher price. Kyhin had always known the Orokin were honorless profiteers, but he hadn’t expected betrayal this soon—not while he was still within the same galaxy as the trading station.

He clenched one gloved fist on the throttle lever.

No matter.

He had no intention of dying today.

The Lyxai wasn’t a warship—it was a stealth cruiser, designed for infiltration, extraction, and evasion. Light, fast, and nearly invisible in the right hands. His hands.

He disengaged auto-navigation and took full manual control. The ship responded instantly, humming beneath him like a living thing.

The chase began.

He pushed the ship into a dive, hurtling toward the fractured terrain of a nearby asteroid field. It was a gamble—raw metal and drifting debris could shred them just as easily as a plasma beam—but it was better than open space.

The ship rocked as it twisted between spinning rocks, threading a razor-thin path through the chaos. The Kroll followed, relentless. Adaptive. He could feel them tightening formation behind him like a vice.

He issued a vocal override.

“Divert all power to the hyperdrive. Initiate charge.”

A confirmation tone pulsed in his helm.

The hyperdrive began to warm—its systems drawing energy from every reserve, every auxiliary system, lights dimming around him as the ship channeled everything into escape.

It would only take a few heartbeats.

But it felt like eternity .

Then…

Impact.

The ship shuddered violently as a plasma beam slammed into the aft hull. Sparks burst from the interface. Alarms screamed.

He gritted his teeth. Rolled the ship to port. Another blast grazed the ventral fins—this one harder, sharper. Shields failed. Warning sigils bloomed across the holo.

Damage sustained.

Too much.

Another hit, and the core might crack.

Come on.

The hyperdrive neared ignition. The charging sequence was seconds from completion.

A final burst of pursuit fire streaked past the cockpit—so close it singed the outer plating.

Then—

The console flashed.

Hyperdrive: READY .

He slammed the trigger.

The Lyxai lurched forward as hyperspace engaged. Space twisted. Light bent. Time distorted.

And in a blink, the Kroll were gone .

He exhaled, slow and deep.

They’d escaped.

For now.

But as the ship bled out of hyperspace, returning to normal speed, the holo filled with new alerts. Critical systems damaged. Hull integrity compromised. Cooling systems at maximum output.

He scanned the readout with quick, precise movements.

The Lyxai was wounded.

Severely.

He couldn't outpace their pursuit a second time in this state.

No choice.

He called up the star chart. Filtered for habitable worlds.

One option pulsed into focus.

He called up the star chart. Filtered for habitable worlds.

One option pulsed into focus.

Anakris.

A shadowed, storm-laced world on the edge of the Korth Expanse.

Dense atmosphere. Harsh terrain. Hostile.

Inhabited.

The Nalgar.

He knew them.

Blood-drinkers. Warlike. Highly dangerous. A species built for endurance and battle, known for tribal hierarchies, brutal internal conflicts, and a taste for violence that bordered on ritual.

They wouldn’t welcome him.

But there was a chance they wouldn’t question his presence, so long as he didn’t provoke them.

And Anakris had breathable air, fresh water, and enough obscurity to disappear into for a time.

He set the course.

As the Lyxai turned toward the dark, mist-wreathed planet, Kyhin allowed himself one last thought of the human girl still sealed in her quarters.

She had no idea what kind of world they were descending upon.

Neither did he.

Not really.

He set the course with a final command.

The ship turned toward the dark blue orb in the distance.

And Kyhin leaned back in the seat, his mind already drifting to the human girl sealed in quarters behind him.

She would be afraid. Confused. Perhaps injured from the impacts.

But alive.

And now they were heading toward a world just as dangerous as what they’d left behind.

And maybe, he thought grimly, even more dangerous still.

It didn’t matter. He was Hvrok, and not just any Hvrok.

He was Iskari —an elite warrior, feared throughout the galaxies, and… quite possibly the last of his kind.

Amongst the Iskari, he’d developed a reputation for single-mindedness, for stubbornness. Iskari were tough and fiercely independent by training and nature, and of them all, he was one of the most feared.

That’s why the ruling council had always chosen him for the most dangerous missions, sending him to the remotest worlds, where resourcefulness and ruthlessness were necessary for survival—and success.

Now, once again, his skills and strength would be put to the test.

This was what he’d been made for. To defend. To kill.

Once he was on the ground, he had no doubts about his ability to survive—and protect his human.

But he had to get them there first.