Chapter 87: Kaldris-Sigma

**Aboard the Narak’Tharr – Navigation Room**

Calm had returned.
Relative, but real.
The dim lights of the navigation post bathed the room in a soft amber glow. The systems were stable, the alarms mercifully silent for the first time in hours. On the screens, the trajectory data blinked steadily, confirming everything was ready for the third jump.
The last one.

“Kaldris-Sigma, coordinates locked,” announced Evelyn, sitting upright at the console. Her fingers tapped more than necessary, the nervous tension in her gestures betraying a stress the rest of the crew had already shaken off.

Zeynn poked his head through the doorway.
“Hey, after Kaldris, can we take a break? Like… a real one? With a bed, noodles, and nobody trying to kill us?”
Vykhor, standing by the observation bay, didn’t reply. But one eyebrow arched — which, in his language, was basically a “maybe.”
Zeynn took it as a yes.
“Perfect. I’m grabbing a drink and pretending I’m not still traumatized by those screaming muffins. See ya.”
He vanished, whistling. Blue padded after him like a fuzzy shadow on four legs.

Left alone, Evelyn leaned back into her seat.
Her eyes drifted to the secondary screen. It showed a live neural map — Marn Sevil’s.
She’d spent hours trying to disable the system.

A complex biometric mechanism, hidden beneath layers of tissue, cells, and nano-receptors. A hybrid between a tracker and an internal bomb, ready to trigger if he said too much. If he betrayed anything.
“This makes no sense,” she murmured. “Why install something like this?”

But she knew the answer.
They didn’t want him to talk.
They wanted him useful. Then gone.
Right before he became dangerous.

She brushed her fingers over the keyboard, restarting the deactivation sequence for the fifteenth time. And like the fourteen before — failure.
“Why can’t I free you from this?”

She wasn’t speaking to the interface.
She was speaking to Marn.

**Isolation Quarters – Secured Cabin**

Marn Sevil sat on his bunk, back to the wall, head tilted, eyes open but blank. He never truly slept. But he didn’t speak either. Not a word since they’d left the second jump point.
He still clutched the case to his chest.
Like he knew.
Like he was waiting.

**Command Deck – Minutes Later**

The flight path pinged. A soft alert.
Jump in 00:01:00. All systems green.

Evelyn took a long breath and looked up at the ceiling.
“Vykhor?”

He stepped closer, boots echoing on the metal floor. He didn’t speak, but his gaze was on her.

“If there’s any doubt at Kaldris… if the contact feels wrong, if there’s a delay, a strange tone, any hesitation…”
She met his eyes.
“I want you to take full command. And I want the right to protect him. To the end.”

Vykhor studied her. His face was unreadable, but his eyes said he understood.
“You won’t have to ask me.”

The countdown hit zero.
Jump engaged.

The Narak’Tharr stretched into space and disappeared in a ripple of blue energy.
Destination: Kaldris-Sigma.

**Isolation Quarters – Just Before Arrival**

The security door clicked shut behind her.
The cabin was tight, quiet, bathed in pale artificial light. Marn was still seated on the bunk, same position he’d held since their escape. He looked frozen in time — except his eyes. They followed her.

Evelyn stood still for a moment.
Then moved forward. Slowly.

She wore an oversized hoodie — probably Vykhor’s — and her eyes were tired, worn, but focused.
She sat down beside him without a word.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered eventually. “I failed.”

Marn turned his head slowly toward her.

“I tried everything. Reprogramming the pulses, breaking the biometric barriers, even designing an override based on your breathing pattern… Nothing. Too many locks. Too many traps. If you say the wrong word, you…”

She choked.
“I can’t save you.”

Silence.

Then Marn placed a hand gently on her neck and pulled her against him.
She let herself be guided.
Her head rested on his shoulder like a child too tired to pretend anymore.

He didn’t speak right away. He just offered her that warm, grounding presence. The same peace she always sought in Griffin — and found again here, in a simple gesture.

From a man she barely knew,
But who carried the same mark.
The kind of father you don’t choose… but who chooses you.

“You already saved me,” Marn murmured.
She breathed quietly against him.
“You believed in me. You defended me. That’s more than I’ve had in… a very long time.”

She didn’t answer.
But her fingers gently clung to the fabric of his sleeve.

Marn smiled — one of those quiet, resigned, but honest smiles.
“You carry the world on your shoulders, Evelyn. You want to fix it. Understand it. Redefine it.”

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.
“But you’re not meant to carry every loss. This isn’t failure. It’s not your failure.”

His eyes held no pain. No fear.
Just that soft calm of someone who knows time is short —
and has made peace with it.

She shook her head, eyes misting.
“You talk like it’s over. But there’s still a chance. I’ll find something at Kaldris. Someone.”

Marn lifted a hand, brushed her cheek.
“You’re like Griffin,” he said softly. “With a fire that’s gentle, but unbreakable. And I’m honored… to have crossed your path. To have seen what you’ve become.”

Evelyn leaned in, pressed her face to his chest.
And this time, she cried.
Silently.
Not for long.
Just enough to make the moment unforgettable.

**Jump Exit – Stationary Orbit**

The Narak’Tharr emerged from hyperspace like a predator baring its fangs. Around it, Kaldris-Sigma’s orbital field shimmered in soft light, marked by slow energy streams and pulsing navigation beacons.

The station looked like a black diamond shattered into gravitational segments: a central core, three peripheral domes, and a docking bay suspended in a pulsed magnetic field. A technological gem.
Seemingly neutral.

But Vykhor, standing before the main screen, wasn’t admiring the aesthetics. He was reading the data. The thermal signatures of nearby ships. The beacon pulse rhythms. The ambient comm frequencies.

“Everything’s normal,” said Evelyn from the secondary console. “Too normal.”

Zeynn raised an eyebrow.
“You mean, like, calm… too calm?”

Evelyn nodded.
“Exactly.”

“Great. Love that.”

Blue growled near the exit. He didn’t like the smell of this place — even through the hull.

Vykhor said nothing.
But his jaw was tight.
And the energy veins on his back pulsed faster.

“We’re going in,” he said at last. “But keep the encrypted channels open. And everyone goes in armed.”