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The giant insect followed, its buzz growing and fading as it darted through the canopy above me, tracking my panicked flight with predatory patience.

Something howled in the distance—a long, low sound that started in a register I could hear and descended into one I could only feel as vibration in my chest. Whatever made that noise was big. Bigger than the insect. Bigger than me.

I ran faster, my lungs burning, the uneven ground treacherous beneath my feet. My beach sandals, now slick with alien dew, slipped with every step. My beach wrap had long since been torn away, leaving me in nothing but my bikini, skin exposed to whatever invisible dangers lurked in this impossible place.

I didn’t see the dropoff until it was too late.

One moment I was running, the next there was nothing beneath my leading foot but empty air. My stomach lurched as I pitched forward, a startled yelp escaping my lips. Then I was falling, tumbling down a steep incline, my body bouncing against roots and rocks and things I couldn’t name.

Pain exploded across my shoulder, my hip, my head as I rolled. Dirt and debris filled my mouth, bitter and strange. I clawed at the ground, trying to slow my descent, but it was useless.

After what felt like an eternity, I landed in a heap at the bottom of the ravine, splayed out like a broken doll. For a moment, all I could do was lie there, every part of me throbbing in protest, staring up at the alien sky with its impossible colors and unfamiliar stars.

I inhaled deeply, tasting blood where I’d bitten my tongue.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the press of strange soil against my back.

“I hate this vacation.”

2 /ZEHN

The scentof burning plasma filled my cockpit, thick and acrid, curling in the air like the dying breath of a beast. I bared my fangs, adjusting my grip on the controls of my Reaper Prowler as enemy fire strafed past me, the heat rippling across my shields. My targeting systems screamed warnings, red flashing sigils marking multiple bogies closing in.

Ambush.

I curled my tail tightly against my seat as I dove hard, cutting between the debris of a destroyed freighter. My Rodinian instincts sharpened, my battle focus narrowing to a pinpoint. The fur along my spine bristled with anticipation.

They had thought they could outmaneuver a Reaper.

They had been wrong.

I twisted, rolling the Prowler into a tight spin, letting the ship’s sleek wings slice through the wreckage field. The g-force pressed against my muscled frame, but my body—built for the hunt across generations of evolution—absorbed it without strain. I was on them in a breath, claws tapping a rhythm on my console as I locked onto the closest fighter.

A purr rumbled in my chest as I fired, my plasma cannons tearing through the enemy ship in a spray of molten wreckage.The explosion bloomed against the void, a beautiful death that satisfied the predator in me.

One down.

My ears flicked forward, catching the subtle changes in the engine’s pitch as I banked hard, already seeking the next target. These ambushers—pirates or mercenaries, it didn’t matter—thought they had cornered prey. They didn’t realize they had attracted a hunter.

But before I could shift to the next target, my sensors shrieked in alarm. The sound grated against my sensitive ears, and I flattened them instinctively against my skull.

An attack from above—a second ambush.

I threw my Prowler into a defensive spiral, my claws extending and retracting with tension as I worked the controls. But the enemy’s trajectory was already set. The first hit shook my ship, rattling my bones. The second overloaded my shields, the protective barrier crackling and dying in a flash of blue energy.

The third—a direct shot to my wing—sent me spinning out of control.

I snarled, baring my fangs at the empty space before me as my systems went dark. Warning lights bathed the cockpit in crimson. The emergency power kicked in, but it was too late for recovery. Too late for anything but survival.

Rodinians did not fear death.

But this?

This was unacceptable.

I forced my voice through the crackling comms. “Zehn to Legion Command. I’ve been hit. Going down.” My voice remained steady, betraying none of the rage coursing through my veins. Legion Reapers didn’t show weakness, even when falling to their deaths.

No response.

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