Chapter 46: The Kael'tarien's Cry

And for the first time, she knew what it really meant... to be a mercenary. Not in the comforting shadow of a squad. Not under Vykhor’s direct protection. Just her. Her mind. Her will.

She moved silently, senses on high alert, her breath muted beneath her veil. She passed under a suspended walkway when she heard a sound—a click, too sharp, too precise. She looked up—nothing. Just cables and the echo of her own breath.

"Vykhor?" she whispered on the private channel.

"I'm in. No contact yet. You holding up?"

She licked her lips. "I made it through the secondary bay. There's... something weird in the air."

"Of course. It's a trap. Places like this are built to mess with your head, to push people to their limits. But you're not like the others, Evelyn."

Silence.

Then, a slight smile in his voice. "You're better."

She closed her eyes for a second, comforted despite the chill down her spine. He believed in her. He always had.

And this time, she'd prove he was right.

The room was bathed in artificial gloom, pulsing with the soft blinking of blue diodes along the walls. Evelyn advanced carefully, her steps muffled by the polymer flooring. She had slipped in through the secondary tech bay, shut down the hydraulic feeds, and made it into the maintenance halls. So far, everything was going according to plan.

But as she reached the first main terminal, a voice echoed through the room—synthetic, emotionless, but undeniably aware:

"Subject identified... Evelyn Ashcroft."

Her blood froze. Her heart skipped a beat. How...?

The voice continued, relentless:

"Exceptional neural frequency detected. Sigma-type anomaly. Cross-referencing with scientific and strategic databases... Match confirmed: Evelyn Ashcroft. Status: Priority subject. Capture recommended."

It wasn’t her name that gave her away. It was her. Her own thoughts. Her mental signature. The AI didn’t need visuals or tagged files. It had recognized her mind. Her synaptic frequencies. The complexity of her cognitive patterns.

This time, Evelyn wasn’t being hunted for her past... but for what she was.

"Oh no..." she breathed, stepping back. "Vykhor, we’ve got a problem."

She dropped behind the terminal, fingers already flying across the interface. Her brain kicked into overdrive. This wasn’t infiltration anymore.

It was a hunt.

And this time, she wasn’t the predator.

**Vykhor's Infiltration**

*"Target. Assess. Dominate." — Kael'tarien tactical code.*

Vykhor slid through the metallic shadows of the station like he belonged there. Not a sound. Not a pause. His steps flowed, magnetic rifle across his back, short blade strapped to his thigh. He was the silence. He was the threat.

The steel gut of Kojak 11 hummed with an eerie silence, almost reverent. A hatch hissed open, revealing a narrow corridor lit by flickering red emergency lights.

Vykhor entered. He didn’t carry the shadow on his back. He was the shadow.

He stopped, just for a breath. That pulse in the air—a tingle only trained Kael’tariens felt. He wasn’t alone. The station sensed him. Watched him. Judged him.

"Subject identified: Vykhor Kael'seth." "Species: Kael'tarien. Sex: Male. Estimated age: 35 cycles." "Detected prosthetic: Right arm. Composite alloy, Kael'tarien class V." "Mental resistance: High. Survival instinct: Exceptional." "Classification: Priority candidate. Conversion recommended."

A cold smile tugged at his lips. Let them try.

The first drone appeared from the far corner—a sphere with bladed limbs and a polished black shell. Vykhor didn’t slow. He pivoted, right arm slicing through the air. The energy blade flared. One clean strike. The drone dropped in two pieces.

Sparks lit up his face. He didn’t blink.

More drones. Two. Four. Eight.

Vykhor moved. A brutal, precise dance. Left arm blocked. Right arm cut. Metal screamed. Carcasses fell. When a larger bipedal sentry emerged, he slammed his palm into the wall—and triggered an electromagnetic pulse. The thing crumpled.

"Resistance incompatible with standard protocol." "Priority updated: Vykhor Kael'seth will be neutralized and studied post-conversion."

"I’m not some lab rat, you rusted freak."

He sprinted into the next hallway, sensors blinking around him. The AI was tracking every breath. Every heartbeat.

But it didn’t understand.

Vykhor wasn’t made to be studied.

He was made to destroy.

And as the station went into silent lockdown, the AI realized one simple truth: It had let a predator inside the cage.

The station moaned.

Vibrating corridors. Warped alarms. Red flashes rippling against steel walls. Evelyn was running, out of breath, her suit clinging to her skin, fingers clenched around her datapad. Behind her, a pack of insectoid drones buzzed and clicked, their optics glowing with artificial hunger.

She had freed the first batch of test subjects. Frail shapes. Barely human. Metal fused to flesh, eyes begging for release.

But the AI reacted fast. Its systems snapped shut around her like jaws.

She spun, sealed a door behind her, slammed her back against the wall. Trembling.

"I lost access to the main core... I need to... I need another way in..."

Her comm blinked. Dead. Signal jammed. The AI was separating them.

Testing them.

Evelyn staggered upright. Her breath ragged. In this red, hellish dark, she was alone.

Or almost.

"Subject identified: Evelyn Ashcroft. Resilience: High. Emotional instability: Moderate. Evolution potential: Exceptional."

The voice made her flinch. It had followed her, even in isolation. A camera slowly turned above her.

"You are an anomaly. A valuable divergence. You will be preserved."

"I’m not your experiment," she snarled, eyes blazing.

She ran.

Elsewhere, Vykhor ripped through a swarm of drones, his cybernetic arm smashing one against a wall. The aftermath of battle trailed behind him—melted walls, burned doors, wires split like veins.

His breathing stayed steady.

But something inside him snapped tight.

Evelyn. In danger.

He felt it. He knew it. Like fire in his veins.

He veered off, kicked open a grate, dropped down a vertical shaft. Three meters. Five. A roll. Knees to floor.

He heard it.

A cry. One word. His name, shattered by fear.

"VYKHOR!"

He stood. Heart pounding like war drums.

Then—

Silence.

Just static from overhead. And the AI, whispering:

"Subject: Kael'tarien. Brute force: Extreme. Analytical skill: Advanced. Emotional control:... fluctuating."
"You are compatible."
"I’m only compatible with your damn end," he growled, surging forward.

In a flickering corridor, Evelyn collapsed to her knees, gasping. She had nothing left. Her biosensor bracelet kept her upright, barely.

Too much stress. Too much pain.

"Vykhor... I can’t..."

The doors behind her slid open.

Surgical arms rose.

Evelyn shut her eyes.

Then... she heard it.

A voice. Not just any voice.

Powerful. Broken. A storm made flesh.

*"MY'LARI!"*

Time stopped.

Her heart burst open. That word.

Her word.

Not just a nickname. Not a made-up term.

A cry. A vow. A bond.

Her hand lifted, trembling, eyes wide and wet with fire.

She stood.

Because Vykhor was coming for her.

Because she was his My'Lari.

And she finally understood what it meant.