Page 75 of Xara and the Xenobeast

Home, she thought again as her eyes closed. Not where I was born, but where I belong.

In the last moments before sleep took her, she felt his tendrils curl more securely around her, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her cheek. Safe. Protected. Loved.

Home.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Ash waited until Xara’s breathing deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep. The pups were nestled against her, their small bodies pulsing with bioluminescence in time with their dreams. He watched them for a long moment, memorizing the sight—his family, safe in the home they’d built together.

The resin binding on his wrist glowed softly in the darkness, and he traced his finger over it, feeling the connection it represented. Not a chain, but a choice—his choice. Hers.

He slipped from the bed with the silence that had once made him the perfect weapon. Now he used that stealth for a different purpose—to protect what was his without disturbing their rest.

The jungle welcomed him as he stepped outside, its familiar dangers no match for his heightened senses. He moved through the darkness with purpose, following the scent trail of the Zarkari soldiers back to their ship. Their blood still stained the forest floor in places, but the jungle was already beginning to reclaim those spots, vines creeping over darkened patches, luminescent fungi sprouting from enriched soil.

Nature was efficient here. Within days, there would be no trace of the battle.

But the ship remained—a gleaming intrusion of polished metal and harsh angles among the wild beauty of the forest. It stood where Xara’s shuttle had once crashed, its landing gear deep in the soft earth, and he approached cautiously, his muscles tensed for any sign of automated defenses. The Zarkari were nothing if not thorough, but the ship’s systems remained dormant. Vask had been arrogant to the end, never imagining his prize weapon might actually defeat him.

The entry ramp was still extended, spattered with mud and blood. He paused at its base as memories flooded over him.

He’d been on ships like this countless times. He’d been transported in them, deployed from them, and returned to them covered in the blood of enemies who never stood a chance. Each mission followed by decontamination, debriefing, reconditioning.

His tendrils coiled tightly against his skull, but he forced them to relax, reminding himself that those days were over. Vask was dead and the Zarkari believed this planet uninhabitable. There was no reason for them to return—unless they came looking for their missing commander.

He climbed the ramp, his claws clicking softly against the metal. Inside, the ship was all clean lines and utilitarian design with nothing wasted, and nothing unnecessary.

The bridge was small but efficiently arranged, familiar. He settled into the pilot’s chair, his big body barely fitting a space designed for more typical Zarkari. His hands hovered over the controls, the memories returning with shocking ease.

The console lit up at his touch, recognizing the genetic markers they’d never bothered to remove from their database. Why would they? He was supposed to be dead, after all.

[IDENTITY CONFIRMED: K-7]

The text flashed across the screen, and a cold weight settled in his stomach. He wanted to forget that designation had ever existed.

He wasn’t K-7 anymore. He was Ash now.

But K-7 still possessed some useful knowledge and he quickly accessed the ship’s navigation systems. The Zarkari language came back to him easily, despite years without seeing it. Some things, it seemed, were burned too deeply to forget.

He set the coordinates carefully—a path that would take the ship far from their planet, deep into the empty space between star systems. No planets to crash into, no ships to encounter—just an endless void.

Next, he accessed the ship’s databanks to find out how much Vask had recorded. His claws extended involuntarily, scratching the surface of the console as he uncovered the details of Vask’s transaction with an Alnuk trader—a private transaction.

His tendrils whipped through the air as he delved deeper into the ship’s systems, searching for any transmission logs. Had Vask already sent information back to the Dominion about her planet?

[COMMUNICATION LOG: EMPTY]

Relief flooded through him. Vask had been waiting to secure his prize before reporting back. Typical. The commander hadalways hoarded credit, presenting only complete victories to his superiors.

That arrogance would now protect Xara’s world—and theirs.

He quickly set to work, programming the ship’s self-destruct sequence. It was simple enough; all Zarkari vessels were equipped with such measures to prevent their technology from falling into enemy hands.

He set the timer for twelve hours—enough time for the ship to reach deep space, far from any inhabited worlds. Then he systematically erased all records of the mission, of Earth’s coordinates, of Xara’s existence.

As far as the Zarkari Dominion would know, Commander Vask and his team had simply disappeared on a routine patrol. A regrettable loss, but not one worth extensive investigation—not with a war still raging across three star systems. A war they were trying very hard to conceal from the rest of the Kaisarian Empire. He briefly considered sending a message to the Royal Fleet, then just as quickly discarded the idea. While it would no doubt be satisfying to bring the wrath of the Empire down on the Dominion, there was no guarantee they would stop there and he had no wish to attract their attention.

His finger hovered over the final activation sequence. Once initiated, the ship would seal itself, lift off, and follow its programmed course to destruction. There would be no stopping it.

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