Chapter 79: A Tense Atmosphere

**Aboard the Narak’Tharr — Main Room, Briefing Zone**

The soft hiss of the sealing airlocks marked the beginning of the standoff.

Marn Sevil hadn’t said a word since they left Hadrell-7. He sat near the central terminal, spine stiff, hands clenched tightly on his knees. He looked strange: tall but hunched, with pale bluish-green skin, streaked with silver threads near his temples. His hair was thin and almost transparent, falling on either side of a gaunt face with fully black, glassy eyes.

A Voldarian, Evelyn noted. Known for their mental analysis abilities—and their unnerving silence. No wonder he was impossible to read.

Blue lay nearby, eyes half-lidded… but his nose twitched regularly in Sevil’s direction, never quite asleep.

Zeynn had voluntarily chosen the farthest seat at the table, but he didn’t miss a single glance Sevil threw toward Evelyn. His Nytherian ear twitched with every stolen look.

“He got a tick or something, your scientist?” he grumbled, not quietly enough to avoid Vykhor’s ears.

The Kael’tarien said nothing. He hadn’t looked away from Sevil once. His face was unreadable, carved in stone. His right arm—the prosthetic—rested on the table, metallic fingers slowly opening and closing in sync with his breath. A warrior’s tic.

Evelyn tried to lighten the mood.

“Marn Sevil, you’re free to use the rest area if you need some quiet.”

He turned his head slowly, studying her as if dissecting each word, each micro-expression.

“I’d rather stay here,” he said softly, voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s more… reassuring to have everyone in sight.”

Zeynn raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, except here, we’ve got you in sight.”

Evelyn shot him a look, but Sevil didn’t react. He stood, adjusted his coat, and turned toward her one last time.

“I’m sorry if my glances made you uncomfortable, Evelyn Ashcroft. I look at you because I’ve seen your face before. A long time ago. On Earth.”

Silence. As sharp as a blade.

Even Blue snapped his head up.

Evelyn frowned, tension creeping up her spine. Vykhor was already on his feet, noiseless.

Sevil raised his palms, non-threatening.

“I haven’t said anything dangerous. Not yet. But maybe… I’m the one who should be afraid.”

And he left the room.

**Narak’Tharr — Command Deck, Moments Later**

The air was thick. Almost heavy.

Evelyn stood with arms crossed, eyes lost in the swirling data displays. Behind her, Zeynn leaned against a console, flipping a small tool in his fingers. He said nothing, but his mood crackled through the silence like static.

Vykhor was still. Statue-like. His yellow gaze fixed on Evelyn with that same heavy intensity she knew all too well.

He was the one who broke the silence.

“I don’t want you alone with him.”

Evelyn turned. “You think he’s dangerous?”

“I think he knows too much. And he’s not saying it.”

His voice was deep. Dark.

“He said he saw you on Earth. But when? Where? Why? Nobody runs into someone like you by accident on Earth.”

Zeynn nodded, still playing with his tool. “He creeps me out. He looks at you like you’re a puzzle—or a target.”

“He’s a scientist,” Evelyn replied, trying to de-escalate. “Not a killer.”

“So were you,” Zeynn snapped. “Now look at you—built-in reflexes, an AI, a space tiger, and the galaxy’s grumpiest guardian.”

“I’m not paranoid,” Vykhor muttered. “I’m prepared. Always.”

He gestured to a side panel. “Kryna, track Sevil’s movements. Constantly. Any unauthorized access, any odd behavior—alert me immediately.”

The AI’s calm voice chimed in. “Surveillance active. I’ve already locked the med bay, the armory, and long-range comms.”

“Good.”

Evelyn sighed, shaking her head, a tired smile forming.

“You two are overreacting.”

“No,” Vykhor said. “We’re anticipating.”

He stepped closer. Not sharply. Gently. When he was near enough, he brushed his fingers over hers.

“You’re my My’Lari. You don’t have to understand that right away. But you need to listen to me. I won’t let anyone near you unless I’m certain they’re safe.”

She lowered her gaze. His words weren’t commanding. They weren’t jealous. Just… true. Vykhor Kael’seth existed to protect.

“Alright,” she whispered. “I won’t be alone with him. I promise.”

Zeynn grunted approvingly. “And if he tries anything, I’ll bite him.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes. But her smile stayed.

**Marn Sevil’s Quarters — Lower Deck, Narak’Tharr**

Sevil sat stiffly on the narrow bunk, fingers brushing over the rough blanket as if it could somehow anchor him to the present. His eyes stared at the wall, but he wasn’t seeing the metal panels.

He was seeing her.

Evelyn Ashcroft.

He had never expected to see her again.

He’d accepted protection under Vykhor Kael’seth—and that had felt safe. The Kael’tarien had a reputation. Brutal, incorruptible, obsessively efficient. The perfect escort.

But Evelyn?

No. She wasn’t supposed to be part of this.

And now she was here. Alive. Changed. Surrounded.

He clenched his jaw. His heart—supposedly trained for cold reason—pounded in his chest.

He hadn’t betrayed anything. Not yet.

But the mere sight of her… cracked something.

A faint hiss startled him. He rolled up his sleeve and checked the tiny implant beneath his collarbone. Invisible to the naked eye—but he could still feel its edge, its bite in his nervous system.

The Master’s gift.

A deathlock.

If you speak…

If you reveal anything about the subject…

You die.

Not a threat. A command. A capsule, primed to explode, embedded just close enough to his heart to be lethal.

It was why he was still alive. He hadn’t broken yet.

He stood, pacing the room like a caged animal. Thoughts choking him.

He had worked for the Master. Not for long. A few months, deep in the shadows of a side lab. He’d seen Evelyn once.

But once was enough.

Enough to know who she was. What she was. What they were trying to make of her.