Chapter 80: Surprise Attack

And today… she was no longer a project.
She was real. She was free. She was here.
And he burned to speak to her. To apologize. To help, maybe.

But the device pulsed in his chest with every heartbeat, a constant reminder that his will didn’t entirely belong to him.
A Voldarian — capable of creating the most impenetrable mental walls — yet unable to break through this one.

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, breath shallow.
"I'm sorry, Evelyn…" he whispered into the silence.
Too quiet to be heard.
But maybe, one day, he’d find a way to speak.
Maybe.

**Narak’Tharr – Orbit of Kalvenh, border sector**

The red warning lights blinked on before the alarm even sounded.
"Hostile signatures detected at 71,000 units and rapidly closing," Kryna announced with her usual calm, polite — and slightly amused — tone.
"Three vessels. Marauder-class. Recent models, reinforced hulls, light armament. They probably think I’m a transport ship."
A pause.
"How charmingly optimistic."

In the cockpit, Vykhor was already on his feet, golden eyes locked on the central screen.
"Evelyn, tactical scan. Zeynn, port turret, now."
"Seriously?! Why is it always me?" Zeynn groaned, already sprinting. "Why can’t I pilot or plant a bomb like in the holos?"
"Because you shoot well, and I’d like us to live," Vykhor replied flatly.
"Solid argument," Zeynn muttered as he disappeared down the corridor.

Evelyn’s fingers danced across her console. Her bracelets synchronized with Kryna’s systems.
"Their formation’s triangular. The rear ship is the brain. If we take it out—"
"—The other two falter. Perfect." Vykhor cut in. "Kryna, lock primary weapon on the rear target."
"My pleasure, Captain."

A low hum vibrated through the Narak’Tharr.
And then the warship roared.

The Kael’tarian dorsal cannon glowed cobalt blue — heart and soul of the vessel — and fired a beam of compressed energy that split the void like a divine blade. The enemy ship tried to dodge — too late.
Impact.
The explosion was brilliant. Silent. Complete.

"First contact… vaporized," Kryna noted with a hint of satisfaction.
Zeynn whistled from his turret. "Okay, I take it back. This ship is a beast."
"You’re supposed to shoot, not narrate," Evelyn quipped.
"Details."

The two remaining ships scattered — one retreating, the other choosing a frontal assault.
Bad call.

Vykhor leaned toward the comm. "Kryna, activate magnetic shields. Focus on defense."
The Narak’Tharr absorbed the first volley without flinching.

"Evelyn, hit the forward stabilizers."
She aimed, fired. A trio of plasma bursts slammed into the target.
The assault ship spun wildly… and crashed straight into its fleeing partner.
Double explosion.
Silence returned.

"Sector clear. No survivors," Kryna confirmed. "Shall I add ‘fire prevention’ to my credentials?"

Vykhor didn’t respond. He crossed his arms, eyes still watching the fading debris.
Zeynn returned to the cockpit, breathing hard.
"We’re absolutely insane, you know that?" he said, slumping beside Evelyn. His eyes sparkled with adrenaline.
"This ship’s better than Iskaara ice cream."

Evelyn was already reviewing the battle data, eyes narrowed.
Vykhor looked at his My’Lari, then at Zeynn, buzzing with post-battle energy, and finally at Blue — crouched in the shadows, half-asleep, yet fully alert.

This was his pack.
The Kael’seth Pack.
Not a squad. Not a military unit.
A pack — unpredictable, stubborn… but unbreakable.

**Narak’Tharr – Secondary cabin, +3 orbital hours**

Silence pressed against the walls like fog.
Marn Sevil sat motionless, hands clasped in his lap, spine rigid. His breathing was steady, but his eyes — fixed on the suspended holoscreen — betrayed the storm within.

The battle played again in front of him. The speed. The precision. The unity.
A pack, not mercenaries.

He paused the video just as Vykhor moved to shield Evelyn, Blue snarling at his feet, and Zeynn darting to action like a trained scout.
A perfect formation born of chaos.
A nucleus.

He whispered, not even realizing it:
"He doesn’t control her… He protects her."

His gaze shifted to another terminal — one Kryna hadn’t detected.
An old system, buried in the lining of his travel bag. Locked behind Kael’tarian encryption.
It only held one file.
Ashcroft.

He knew everything.
The genetic templates. The failed prototypes. The psychological blueprints.
And Evelyn Ashcroft. Subject A-011.
The one success.

Not because she was perfect — but because she was human. She learned. She loved. She questioned.
She became something no algorithm could predict.

"She’s proof that the Master’s dream is possible," he muttered.
"An elite humanity. Rational. Superior. Untouchable."
He shivered.

He moved to the window. Space beyond seemed calm. Cold.
"But for that dream… he only needs her."

He touched his chest — the implant buried just above his heart.
The biological failsafe.
If he spoke, he died.

But something had changed.
He’d seen her. Happy. Alive. Surrounded.

And now…
It wasn’t just about her safety.
It was about who she chose to be — not what she was made for.

"If I stay silent… she dies. One day."
He closed his eyes.

"I’ll find another way."

**Narak’Tharr – Tactical Debrief Room**

The ship had stopped trembling long ago — but the tension lingered. Not in the walls. In them.

The battle replay hovered over the table. Kryna commented precisely.

"Right flank was exposed," Vykhor stated, arms crossed. "Next time, stick to the south turret, Zeynn."

Zeynn rolled his eyes. "You say that like I wasn’t just here for show. You didn’t need me. You had it under control."
"You did it with flair," Evelyn said dryly.

Zeynn grinned. That was all he wanted.

Vykhor, unfazed, stepped forward. "If you want to live long in this pack, you’ll obey when it matters."
The tone was sharp. Final.

Evelyn rested a hand on Zeynn’s arm. No words. Just grounding. A quiet gesture that said: I’m here.
Zeynn’s shoulders eased. No apology. But less defiance.

In the corner, Marn Sevil watched.
Silent.
And thinking.