Chapter 53: Blue’s Epic Journey

Morning on Iskaara started like any other. A lazy fire crackled inside its thermal ring, the sky still brushed with pink and silver hues, and Blue lay sprawled at Evelyn’s feet, soaking up the gentle warmth of her presence. His nose nudged her boots. His ears twitched at the sound of her voice.

He’d watched Vykhor that morning without fully understanding. The Kael’tarien, ever stoic, had distracted Evelyn with a comment, a hand brushing her wrist, a stolen kiss at her neck. Blue had grumbled quietly but let it slide, still believing everything was normal.

And then… they never came back.

At first, he waited. He circled the camp. He curled up where their breakfast had still been warm. He sniffed the earth, the stones, the still-fresh footprints.

But Evelyn was gone.

His Evelyn.

He let out a long, low, painful mewl.

Then he understood.

The ship was gone. Vykhor’s scent lingered in the air, but something about it had changed—gone sharp, distant. Betrayal. Something primal in him whispered this wasn’t Evelyn’s doing. She would never do this. But Vykhor? That silent golden-eyed warrior? He would. And Blue knew it. He’d seen it in his eyes that morning.

And the words—“Show me what you’re worth, little one.”

Blue froze for a long time, still as the stones of Iskaara.

Then his claws dug into the ground.

He growled.

They’d left him.

But he wasn’t an ordinary animal.

He wasn’t done.

He wasn’t alone.

He was Blue.

And he’d show them.

He didn’t move right away. He scanned the surroundings, his slit pupils adjusting to the rising light. His breathing slowed—measured, deliberate. Evelyn was gone. Vykhor, too. And the ache of their absence was unbearable. But the anger rising inside him wasn’t wild—it was cold. Focused. Motivated.

He knew Vykhor’s habits. His rituals. Even the subtle ones. And among them… that ship. The backup shuttle. Stashed. Hidden. Powered just enough to be ready. Evelyn had once whispered about it, scribbling in her notebook: “Always a failsafe with Vykhor… always.”

And Blue had heard it all.

But he couldn’t pilot a ship.

He needed an ally.

So he bolted.

He darted through the tents, past sleepy children, his paws barely brushing the ground. He knew Tarn Vesik’s routine. The man was always up early, like anyone burdened with responsibility. Blue found him near the med bay, clutching a steaming mug. Tarn nearly dropped it as the feline zipped up to him.

“Whoa! Easy, buddy. What’s gotten into you?”

But Blue didn’t slow. He let out a deep, rumbling yowl. A call. An order.

Then turned away… and waited.

Tarn frowned. “You want me to follow you?”

Blue took off again, pausing further ahead. Waiting. Tarn hesitated, glanced back at the med bay, then shrugged.

“Alright, fine. Lead the way.”

The feline sprinted through Iskaara’s crystal woods, weaving around boulders, then veering into a nearly invisible crevice. There, hidden beneath fossilized bark and a camo-shielded energy field, rested a small long-range shuttle: The Shadow Falcon. Designed for one thing—fast extraction.

Tarn stared, stunned.

“Vykhor… you brilliant, paranoid bastard…”

Blue sat proudly in front of the ramp, tail flicking, posture regal. He turned his gaze to Tarn, saying clearly: Get it off the ground. Take me to them.

And in that moment, the old bio-engineer didn’t question it.

“You want to go back. You want to find them.”

Blue closed his eyes briefly. A silent answer. Crystal clear.

Tarn sighed. “Alright. Buckle up, Blue. You just earned yourself a ride through the stars.”

He boarded the shuttle, tapped commands into the console, and uploaded the Narak’Tharr’s coordinates. The craft was pre-programmed to lock onto the main ship as soon as its thrusters hit range. A quick systems check, a glance at Blue—who was already settling in like he owned the place—and Tarn hit launch. The ramp sealed with a hiss, leaving Blue alone on board.

The shuttle slid through space, silent and smooth, a fish in the stellar depths. Inside, nestled between supply crates, Blue sat watching the smooth walls of the cockpit, his slitted eyes glowing with a sharp, impossible-to-measure intelligence.

He wasn’t afraid. Not really. That emotion was for prey. And him? He hadn’t been prey in a long time. Not since the day he’d padded up to a campfire, drawn by the warmth, the scent of space rations and… her. Evelyn.

Yeah, back then, he’d come for the food. No shame in that. But the second he saw her, it wasn’t just about survival anymore. She’d looked at him like he mattered. Like he was more than just some stray creature. And her scent—gentle, familiar, enveloping—had branded him from the first stroke of her fingers. From the first soft word.

He’d chosen her. Instinctively. Irrevocably.

And Vykhor?

He respected him. Knew exactly what that Kael’tarien was—muscle, command, and silence. An alpha in every sense. But under all that armor, Blue had smelled something else: fear. Not for himself. For her. And he understood that, better than most humans ever could.

So when Vykhor had pulled his stunt—distracting Evelyn, sneaking off without him—Blue had seen it for what it was. A challenge. A test. One predator sizing up another.

Blue accepted.

Because a real predator doesn’t flee. He watches. He waits. And he strikes.

He didn’t hate Vykhor for it. Not yet. But one day, he’d remind him that abandonment—that kind of hurt—carries a price. Even between allies.

For now, though, he was going back. To her. The one who saw him. Chose him. Accepted him.

Evelyn.

And if that meant crossing space itself?

So be it.

He never belonged to Iskaara.

He belonged to Evelyn.

And that’s where he’d return.

Always.
A few days had passed since their return from Iskaara.

Life on board the Narak’Tharr had slowly settled back into its usual rhythm, as if the ordeal on Kojak 11 already belonged to a distant past. Evelyn had fallen back into her groove—analyzing data, exchanging passionate theories with Kryna, and scribbling notes in her worn-out notebook. Blue, for his part, had returned to his rituals: intermittent naps, watching over the common room from the central console, and staying as close as possible to Evelyn.

But Vykhor could still feel the tension. Subtle. Barely there. Blue, especially, kept an eye on him—half-lidded, calculating—always ready to wedge himself between Vykhor and Evelyn if the Kael’tarien moved a little too fast. He didn’t growl anymore, not really. But the trust hadn’t fully come back.

And Vykhor got it.

They needed a break. A real one. A simple mission. Profitable. No labs. No test subjects. No homicidal AI. No desperate screams in steel hallways.

One morning, sitting in the cockpit, hot coffee in hand, he opened the secured mercenary network. Contracts scrolled by on the screen. Delivery jobs. Escorts. Cargo protection.

Then one caught his eye.

Recovery mission – Anatu Prime – Moderate urgency – High payout.

Details: Recovered data capsule from a pre-war observatory ruin.
Location: Anatu Prime – Helios 7 system.
Status: Tropical paradise. No reported threats.
Client: Private contractor. On-site.
Requirements: Small team. Absolute discretion.

Vykhor narrowed his eyes, rereading the details… and slowly nodded.

A paradise planet. A simple retrieval. And good credits on the table.

He drained the rest of his coffee and hit the intercom.

“Evelyn. Meet me in the cockpit. We’ve found our next mission.”