Chapter 44: Operation Kojak 11

Vykhor understood Evelyn perfectly.

Unlike her usual research, she didn’t throw herself into this one headfirst. No. This wasn’t about diving into a frenzy of analysis, cross-referencing, or wild theories like she normally did. There was something different about this search—something almost sacred.

She approached it slowly, hesitantly. When she had the time. When her heart was calm enough to dare. When Vykhor had one of those rare, tender gestures—his fingers in her hair while she talked, a hand at the small of her back when they walked down the corridor, or just the way he whispered My’Lari as she drifted to sleep.

That word had become a soft obsession.

My’Lari.

Blue, sprawled beside her, often lifted his head when she murmured the word while daydreaming, like he recognized the sound. His tail would twitch slowly, almost reflexively. It calmed him, too.

One day, after a long internal battle, Evelyn finally turned to Kryna.

“Can you help me? Not give me the answer—I know Vykhor forbade it. But… maybe a clue? A hint?”

Kryna, true to herself, took her time before answering. When her voice finally came, it held a gentle irony.

“I can offer you a resource, Evelyn. An excerpt from the ancient Kael’tarien lexicon. No auto-translation, of course. You’ll have to piece it together yourself. And it’s very likely the meaning of My’Lari isn’t literal.”

An interface blinked to life on her terminal. Dense. Complex. Interwoven symbols—some familiar, others completely alien. Evelyn felt her stomach twist.

It was a challenge. The kind she usually loved.

But this time, it meant more.

She wasn’t reading for raw knowledge, or even curiosity. She was reading to understand a man. To understand Vykhor. To understand what he felt for her—even if he still refused to put it into words.

She started with the basics. The roots. The particles. The nuances.

Words tied to family, loyalty, union, soul.

But quickly, she realized Kael’tarien wasn’t structured like other languages. Some meanings only revealed themselves through emotion, through lived context.

She shut the lexicon more than once, frustrated. And each time, she came back to it days later, drawn by some invisible promise.

And always that word, floating in her memory: My’Lari.

Maybe… maybe it wasn’t through words she’d finally understand it. Maybe it would come through actions.

Vykhor’s silences. His hand reaching for hers. His constant, quiet presence. The way he’d reorganized his own quarters so she’d have a permanent place there. The way he guided her, respected her, desired her—without ever trying to break her.

And as the days passed, as life aboard the Narak’Tharr slowly settled into rhythm, Evelyn felt the answer drawing nearer. Maybe it wasn’t far now. But she still needed to wait for the right moment—for clarity to strike.

Vykhor said nothing. But he watched her search. And sometimes, in the silence of their cabin, he’d whisper that word again against her neck, or into the dark of night.

My’Lari.

The Narak’Tharr drifted in the silent orbit of a gas giant streaked in green and gold, hidden within the shadow of a volatile asteroid field. Vykhor scanned the latest contracts on the mercenary network, his golden eyes slicing through the text like a predator stalking prey. Evelyn was in the common room with Blue, lost in a lively exchange with Kryna about quantum flux in an astrogenerator.

One contract caught his attention. Encrypted. Protected by multiple levels of validation. Sent through a priority channel—reserved for more than just hired guns. This was for elite mercenaries. The kind of mission only a name like Kael’seth could get.

Vykhor opened the file. The title was simple, almost plain.

Subject: Operation K11 – Data extraction & illegal experimentation shutdown
Planet: Kojak 11
Status: Ultra-classified
Client: In person, mandatory briefing
Reward: To be negotiated. Strategic and ethical value high.

A blacksite lab conducting illegal experiments on sentient lifeforms. Bio-weapons. Rumors of an awakened AI controlling the station. The mission was twofold: recover the data and free any surviving test subjects.

Vykhor stared at the screen for a long moment, jaw clenched. He didn’t like these kinds of jobs—but Evelyn...

This kind of job would speak to her.

He locked in the mission.

“Kryna. Set coordinates for Kojak 11. We’ve got an appointment.”

In the common room, Evelyn looked up. “An appointment?”

He approached her. Blue, curled up against her arm, perked up his ears.

“Suit up, My’Lari. Isolated station, forbidden experiments, rogue AI. You’re gonna love it.”

Evelyn raised a brow, half-curious, half-worried. “You make it sound like a walk in the park.”

“It won’t be. But we’re the best. And there are lives to save.”

She nodded, more serious now. Blue purred softly at her elbow, as if sensing trouble was coming.

The Narak’Tharr pierced the atmosphere of Kojak 11 with a muffled rumble, thrusters adjusting to the violent winds sweeping the planet’s rust-colored surface. Static lightning cracked through the dusty sky, striking far too close if the booming thunder shaking the ship was any clue.

Vykhor was flying manually. He never trusted auto-systems in unknown territory. Evelyn sat beside him, quietly swiping at her datapad. Blue was curled up behind the seats, tail flicking every time the ship jolted.

“Lovely place,” Evelyn muttered. “I bet the tourist brochures left out the magnetic eruptions.”

“Probably because no tourist ever makes it back to write a review,” Vykhor said coolly.

They landed on a repurposed mining platform turned into a makeshift spaceport. Rusted domes, abandoned watchtowers, a few junky smuggler ships. The kind of place where you didn’t attract attention—as long as you knew how to disappear.

Vykhor lowered the ramp. Dust-charged wind rushed into the hold.

Evelyn pulled her nano-veil over her face—it sealed to her skin in a perfect fit. “Even the air wants us dead.”

Blue sneezed loudly, and Vykhor almost smiled.

“Stay on the ship,” he ordered. Blue sat down. And yawned. Vykhor frowned. Evelyn grinned.

“He’s gonna do what he wants. You’ll get used to it.”

They crossed the spaceport in silence, boots crunching on copper dust. An old control tower had been converted into a bar: The Iron Cricket. No neon. No music. Just dim lights, crates for chairs, and a cyborg-eyed bartender wiping a glass with a grimier rag.

They entered. A beat of silence. Then murmurs resumed. A few glances. No one stared long.

Evelyn felt the tension. Places like this had unspoken rules: don’t ask questions, and don’t break them if you wanna live.

A man in a gray flight suit—ill-fitting and nervous as hell—waited at the back. He stood awkwardly, hands trembling. Uneven beard. Hair badly cut.

“Kael’seth?” he asked in a low voice.

Vykhor gave a small nod.

“Follow me.”

He led them to a back room—just as filthy. A red light pulsed from an overhead fixture. A generator buzzed in the corner.

“My name’s Tarn Vesik,” he said. “Former bio-engineer for the Vedran Consortium. I helped build the station. But what they’re doing there... it’s beyond anything I could’ve imagined.”

Evelyn crossed her arms. “Define ‘beyond.’”

He swallowed hard, then pulled out a data chip.

“They started with non-sentient test subjects. Then hybrids. Then… children. Lab-made. Designed to kill. Infiltrate. Infect.”

Evelyn paled slightly. Vykhor didn’t flinch.

“And the AI?” the Kael’tarien asked.

“It’s sentient now. Runs everything. Security, test protocols, containment. It rewrote its own code. It’ll see you as... raw material.”

Vykhor turned to Evelyn, then to Vesik. “Plans. Codes. Access cards.”

Vesik laid everything on the table, hands shaking.

“Please,” he whispered. “Destroy that place. And if you can... save whoever’s left.”