I would have kept going. I wanted to. But the jungle shifted.
Not gently. Not playfully.
Urgent. Warning.
The vines tensed. Leaves curled inward. I froze, my senses sharpening instantly. My claws itched, unsheathing on instinct.
Danger.
I pressed a kiss to Miri’s temple and murmured, “Stay here.”
She blinked up at me, dazed. Her lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, the bond between us still pulsing hot and undeniable.
“I’ll be back. Phil will stay with you.”
Her eyes widened as Phil wrapped gently around her wrist in promise.
I movedthrough the underbrush like a shadow, each step precise and silent. The jungle parted before me, vines coiling back to clear my path, leaves tilting to avoid brushing against me and creating sound. I had become one with this ecosystem over my long months stationed here—the jungle recognized me as both protector and predator. Now it sensed my urgency, my focus narrowed to a single purpose: find the threat to my kassari and eliminate it.
The scent trail was faint but distinct—an acrid chemical tang that didn’t belong in this pristine environment. Vaskari, a Cydarian mercenary with a trail of bodies across three star systems. Legion had been tracking him for cycles before he’dcrashed on GL-7 with stolen bioweapons tech. My mission had been simple: locate, apprehend, recover the tech. The jungle had other ideas, sending me on a winding chase while it assessed whether I was threat or ally.
By the time I’d earned the ecosystem’s trust, Vaskari had disappeared into the dense interior. Only the occasional drone, like the one I’d destroyed earlier, confirmed he was still alive.
The trail led me deeper into sector seven, a region dense with carnivorous flora and treacherous terrain. Perfect for an ambush. I tested the air, filtering the jungle’s complex aromatic symphony for any hint of my quarry. There—a trace of ozone and synthetic polymer. Recent. Within the last hour.
I pressed my palm against a massive trunk, connecting to the jungle’s neural network. Images and sensations flooded my consciousness—movement to the north, a disruption in the natural flow, something mechanical interfering with the root communication system.
Not just hiding. Jamming.
I had long suspected that smugglers used these communication blackout windows—periods when atmospheric conditions prevented clear transmissions to Legion command—as cover for their operations. Vaskari wasn’t just a fugitive; he was part of something larger. This jungle outpost wasn’t as abandoned as Legion command believed.
The realization settled like ice in my stomach. If true, Miri’s arrival through the supposedly deactivated rift gate was no coincidence. Someone was using old Legion tech, perhaps maintaining the outposts secretly. The implications were troubling, but I pushed them aside. First, secure the immediate threat. Analysis could come later.
I set traps along likely escape routes—simple but effective snares reinforced by the jungle’s cooperation. Carnivorous vines repositioned themselves, forming living nets that would respondto my signal. Poisonous fungi retreated from the path where I walked but remained poised along alternative routes, ready to release spores at the slightest disturbance.
The jungle aided me willingly, its vast intelligence recognizing the danger to its equilibrium. It wanted Miri protected too—had marked her as important from the moment she’d stepped through the rift gate. Not just because of her connection to me, but because of something intrinsic to her that the jungle found valuable. I didn’t fully understand it, but I was grateful for the alliance.
Still, I didn’t like leaving her. Even with Phil’s protection and the jungle’s blessing, the thought of Miri unguarded made my fur stand on end. She was too curious, too fearless for her own safety. The memory of her taste still lingered on my tongue, the echo of her pleasure still vibrated through my body. I had claimed her in all ways but the final mark—the bite that would seal our bond permanently.
The urgency of that uncompleted ritual pulsed through me with each heartbeat. Mine. Protect. Return.
I pushed the instinct down, focusing on the hunt. Professional first, primal second. I had tracked Vaskari for hours, following his trail through increasingly difficult terrain. The jungle fed me impressions of his passage—disturbed foliage, damaged roots, the lingering chemical signature of his weapons.
But just when the trail should have grown hotter, when I should have been closing in on my prey, it vanished.
Completely. As if Vaskari had simply ceased to exist.
I circled the area, extending my senses to their limits. Nothing. No scent, no disturbance, no energy signature. Even the jungle seemed confused, its impressions becoming vaguer, less coherent.
This wasn’t possible. No one vanished without a trace. Not from a Reaper. Not in my jungle.
I pressed my palm harder against a tree trunk, demanding more information. The response was frustratingly incomplete—impressions of wrongness, of something interfering with the natural order, but no clear direction or image.
Something was blocking the jungle’s awareness. Something technological, perhaps, or biological in nature but foreign to this ecosystem. Whatever it was, it was sophisticated enough to fool both the jungle’s collective consciousness and my enhanced senses.
The implications were disturbing. Vaskari shouldn’t have had access to that level of technology. Not alone. Which meant he wasn’t working alone.
Legion intelligence had identified him as a solo operator, but the evidence suggested otherwise. Someone was helping him. Someone with resources and knowledge of GL-7’s unique properties.
