Chapter 78: A New Mission for the Kael’seth Pack

The triangular logo of the network lit up in red on the command station screen. Vykhor placed his hand on the console, triggering the automatic priority scan.

**Subject:** Priority Mission
**Status:** High sensitivity
**Client: Confidential**
**Details:** Protection and exfiltration of a rogue scientist. Critical information on illegal military technology.
**Extraction point:** Hadrell-7 Station
**Destination:** Classified – Coordinates to be disclosed post-retrieval
**Threats:** Armed mercenaries working for a fallen regime.

Vykhor let out a low growl. “Kryon.”

Evelyn, bent over her own terminal at the back, looked up, her eyes sharp. Zeynn, sprawled on a bench pretending to sleep, cracked one eye open at the word “scientist.”

“An exfiltration mission?” Evelyn asked, intrigued.

“And babysitting, apparently,” Vykhor replied, locking in the mission. “The client pays well. And if he has data on Kryon’s projects… it might be worth more than he thinks.”

An hour later, they were gathered in the tactical room. A holographic map of Hadrell-7 hovered above the central table, slowly spinning. Evelyn tapped at her datapad, brows furrowed. Vykhor, arms crossed, listened in silence. Zeynn munched distractedly on a nutrition bar—but his eyes were fixed on Evelyn.

“I want Zeynn to come with us,” she said suddenly.

Silence.

Vykhor raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t a stroll, My’Lari.”

Zeynn lifted his chin. “I’m not a kid, Kael’tarian.”

Evelyn tilted her head, calm. “He has fast analytical reflexes, above-average mobility… and most importantly, he wants to be useful.”

“He’s reckless, insolent, disobedient.” Vykhor stepped slowly toward the table. “But… he’s learning.”

Zeynn opened his mouth, then closed it again. He understood he’d just received Kael’tarian approval—brutal, reluctant… but real.

“So I’m coming?” he asked, standing up.

Vykhor sighed deeply. “You’re coming. But you follow orders. Otherwise, I’ll lock you in a crate until the mission ends.”

Zeynn raised two fingers in a mock salute. “Copy that, boss.”

Evelyn exchanged a look with Blue, curled up near the room’s entrance. The feline opened one eye, yawned… and drifted back into a confident half-sleep.

The Kael’seth pack had a new mission.

**Narak’Tharr Hangar – Pre-departure Preparations**

The muffled hum of the shuttle’s stabilizers vibrated through the metal floor of the hangar. Secured equipment crates were strapped in with Kael’tarian precision. Amber utility lights bathed the scene in a warm glow—gentle on the eyes, but revealing everything.

Vykhor inspected the shuttle in silence, his prosthetic arm clicking softly with each movement. He had already completed three rounds—not out of fear, but habit. His way of channeling what he wouldn’t say out loud.

Behind him, Evelyn helped Zeynn adjust a lightweight tactical vest.

“Can you breathe normally?” she asked, tightening a strap.

“Mostly,” Zeynn grimaced. “Or… maybe I just shouldn’t go?”

“You agreed, Zeynn. That means you follow through,” she said gently—but with no room for argument.

Vykhor watched from the corner of his eye.

She knows how to command without raising her voice. Without dominating. She leads.

Blue, meanwhile, pretended to sleep on a crate of munitions, one paw over his nose. But his ears swiveled constantly. He was ready. And Vykhor knew it. He didn’t like the creature—not exactly. But he respected its fierce loyalty. And its uncanny instinct for protecting his My’Lari.

There was balance here. Fragile. Improbable. But real.

Vykhor stepped away, his hand resting on the shuttle’s hull.

What have I become? he wondered. I’m a warrior. A Kael’tarian. I once commanded squadrons. Battalions. And now…

His gaze settled on Evelyn, who was checking Zeynn’s emergency channels on his datapad.

Now I check safety belts and cardiac monitors. I growl when she uses a knife. I sleep beside her. I watch over her.

Zeynn caught his gaze, as if sensing the current running between them.

“What?” the young Nytherian asked, provoking. “I put my boots on the right feet. That’s already a win.”

A muscle twitched in Vykhor’s jaw. “Do me a favor—try not to get yourself killed.”

“You too, Kael’tarian.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes, then looked at Vykhor. She said nothing. But her gaze said everything.

There was something strangely domestic in this moment.

Commander? Maybe. Protector? Certainly.

But father? Vykhor couldn’t quite say the word. He didn’t deserve it. Not yet.

He took a deep breath and called out:

“Board up. Destination: Hadrell-7.”

And the Kael’seth pack entered the shuttle.

**Hadrell-7 – Orbital Welcome Port, Zone 3-Delta**

The view beneath the landing ramp was anything but welcoming. Hadrell-7 wasn’t a dead world… but it wasn’t exactly alive either. Dusty red ground, jagged rocky terrain, winds heavy with silicate. Filtered atmosphere. Plex-alloy domes protecting sparse inhabited structures.

The Narak’Tharr’s shuttle had landed just outside an old transfer outpost—the kind of place you forget on trade maps. Perfect for a discreet rendezvous.

Blue sniffed the air at the base of the ramp, ears alert. Zeynn stretched noisily as he stepped down, squinting at Hadrell’s artificial light.

“Charming rat hole…” he muttered. “Are we vacationing here?”

Vykhor didn’t reply—his gaze already fixed on two figures approaching. Evelyn followed his eyes, her stride fluid, both wristbands glowing, ready for anything.

One of the men wore a long dark coat with a discreet insignia—clearly the liaison. The other… was thinner, hunched, hollow-eyed.

The scientist.

They stopped a few meters away.

“Vykhor Kael’seth? Evelyn Ashcroft?” the liaison called, a humanoid with marbled skin and violet pupils. “I’m Sorak Nemdar, envoy of the Haelven Collective. Dr. Marn Sevil is under our protection, but we need your escort.”

Marn Sevil offered a faint, nervous nod. He seemed particularly interested in Evelyn—a detail Zeynn and Vykhor both noticed… and disliked.

“Escort to where?” Vykhor asked coolly.

“To the Kaldris-Sigma core. Three interstellar jumps. But you won’t be alone.” Sorak’s tone hardened. “A mercenary faction has surfaced. They’re openly claiming allegiance to Lord Kryon’s fallen forces.”

Silence fell. Evelyn felt her stomach tighten.

“They want to retrieve the doctor?” she asked.

“Or silence him,” Sorak replied. “We don’t know if they want his knowledge… or his head.”

Zeynn muttered under his breath. “Fantastic. A deadly road trip. That’s what we were missing.”

Vykhor glanced at Evelyn. Then at the doctor. Then at Sorak.

“We’re leaving now. I want the flight plan, secure relay coordinates, and all surveillance files you’ve got.”

“Of course. But be warned—these men are good. They haven’t attacked… yet. But they’re watching. And their patience worries me.”

Vykhor nodded slowly.

This won’t be an escort. This will be a hunt.

He signaled his group.

“On board. Now.”

And without another word, the Kael’seth pack closed in, surrounding the rogue scientist like a fragile treasure—or a ticking time bomb.