Chapter:4-Stranded and Sold

Adam had been stranded in the desert for seven days.

Seven. Damn. Days.

He had told his mom and the squad he'd be in the next city within three. But here he was, alone in a wasteland of nothing but sand and misery, baking under the merciless glare of the twin moons and the setting sun.

"Of course," he muttered, staring up at the sky. "Because why the hell would things ever go as planned?"

His communicator was fried, his hoverbike wrecked—all thanks to a dune dragon. That same dragon, however, was now his dinner.

The charred meat crackled as he tore off another chunk, chewing slowly. Green liquid dripped down his chin, thick and slimy. He grimaced. It tasted like old rubber mixed with spoiled milk.

"At least it fills the stomach..." he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Then, just as he was about to curse at the universe again, something caught his eye.

A dust cloud in the distance.

He squinted against the heatwaves rippling off the sand, his muscles tensing. The disturbance wasn't natural. Vehicles. A convoy of armored transports cutting through the desert like a fleet of mechanical sharks.

His heartbeat quickened—not from fear, but from anticipation. This was either salvation or a really bad time.

The lead vehicle screeched to a halt a few meters away, kicking up a fresh storm of sand. Adam remained seated, keeping his hands loose, ready. The hiss of depressurizing doors cut through the desert silence.

Then, they stepped out.

The first figure was tall, its sleek blue exoskeleton gleaming in the dying light. Its head was distinctly insectoid, like a mantis, with sharp mandibles that clicked and twitched as it spoke in a strange, chittering language.

Adam's brain chip automatically translated the garbled sounds.

"Shira… go talk to him."

A second figure emerged from the transport—a woman, though definitely not human.

She had smooth pink skin, piercing green eyes, and delicate white markings trailing from the corners of her eyes down to her lips. She moved with a slow, deliberate confidence, her smirk practically etched onto her face.

"Oh," she drawled, looking Adam up and down like she was inspecting a piece of cargo. "You must be the bio-engineered human our tracker picked up."

Adam exhaled sharply, dusting himself off. "Well, damn. Took you long enough. You guys got a ride to the city, or am I hallucinating?"

The woman's smirk widened. "Oh, we'll take you somewhere."

Adam sensed the shift immediately.

Before he could react, cold metal snapped around his wrists.

His body stiffened. He glanced down at the cuffs, then back up at her. "Seriously?"

She patted his cheek mockingly. "Welcome to the Veran Company, sweetheart."

Adam sighed through his nose. "Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. How about you take these off, and I don't break your nose?"

She chuckled. "Cute."

Adam clenched his jaw as she shoved him toward the transport, resisting the urge to snap the cuffs right then and there. These idiots had no idea that the "armor plating" on his hoverbike wasn't armor at all—it was a deactivated energy saber.

He could escape whenever he wanted.

For now? He'd play along.

Inside the transport, the air was thick with the scent of sweat, metal, and something acrid that clung to the back of his throat. Other captives were crammed into the space—some humanoid, some very much not.

A reptilian alien with dull, scaly skin sat hunched in a corner, its large yellow eyes half-lidded. A small, four-armed creature with chitinous plating whimpered as it clutched its knees. Others sat in silence, their gazes either vacant or filled with quiet dread.

They had already accepted their fate.

Adam leaned back against the metal wall, arms crossed. "Damn. Rough crowd."

No one responded.

Figures.

The ride dragged on, the transport rattling over uneven terrain. Adam closed his eyes, conserving his energy. The moment they reached their destination, things were going to get… messy.

Finally, the vehicle lurched to a stop. The doors swung open, and Adam stepped out onto solid ground.

His brows lifted slightly.

Savaris.

The city was carved into the walls of a massive canyon, its structures seamlessly blending with the rock. Towering stone bridges connected different levels, while high-tech buildings jutted from the cliffsides, neon lights casting eerie glows against the primitive landscape.

Even in the dim twilight, the city pulsed with life. Vendors hawked goods from makeshift stalls, voices blending into a chaotic symphony of languages. Scavenger drones zipped through the air, their mechanical eyes scanning for trouble. The people here were hardened—mercenaries, traders, criminals. A melting pot of outlaws and opportunists.

'What a sight this must have been back in the human era,' Adam thought.

His moment of admiration didn't last long.

The slavers prodded him forward, guiding him through a maze of winding paths until they reached a large, reinforced building. The scent of oil and rust filled the air.

A masked figure stood at the entrance, their posture rigid and unreadable. They spoke in a series of garbled, guttural sounds that made Adam's skin crawl.

He frowned. 'What the hell is this guy's problem?'

Then, before he could process the situation, he was shoved forward.

Sold,like a piece of cargo.

Adam stood still, his wrists bound, as the slavers chattered with the masked alien. The guttural, alien tongue grated against his ears, but he stayed quiet, waiting. Calculating.

The slavers were cocky. Sloppy. They had no idea what they were dealing with.

Then it happened.

A loud crunch.

Adam turned his head just in time to see two of the Veran thugs knocking over his hoverbike, one of them kicking at the exposed plating.

No.

A piece of the frame snapped off. Sparks flew.

No, no, no—!

"My baby!"

Everything else faded into the background. His body moved on instinct, sheer rage fueling him.

The cuffs on his wrists? Child's play. He barely flexed before the metal restraints cracked apart, pieces scattering to the ground.

Gasps erupted from the slavers.

Too late.

With a flick of his wrist, his energy saber came flying into his hand from the wreckage of his bike. The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, the dormant blade ignited—a brilliant plasma-blue energy surging around the steel, humming with lethal power.

The slavers froze.

Then Adam moved.

The bug-faced alien—first target.

Adam lunged, the saber carving through the air. The mantis-like slaver barely had time to chitter in alarm before Adam slashed. The plasma-coated blade cut clean through its chest, sending its body crumpling to the ground in a smoking heap.

The Veran goons scrambled to react, fumbling for their weapons.

Too slow.

Adam was already on them.

The ones who had damaged his bike? They got the worst of it.

He cut the first man's arm clean off before shoving his boot into his chest, sending him sprawling. The second barely got a shout out before Adam drove the saber straight through his gut, twisting it for good measure.

The remaining slavers dropped their weapons, hands raised, terror in their eyes.

"P-please—!" one of them begged.

Adam tilted his head, considering.

Then his gaze hardened.

"You people had the chance to show mercy to a lot of people, didn't you?"

Their eyes widened with realization—just before Adam slashed their throats in one fluid motion.

Blood sprayed the sand.

Adam barely spared the corpses a glance as he turned.

The pink-skinned woman was the only one left standing.

She was breathing heavily, her confident smirk long gone. But as Adam stepped toward her, she did something unexpected—her expression softened, her posture shifted.

Her green eyes flickered with something… seductive.

"Wait," she purred, stepping closer. "You don't have to do this."

Her hand traced a slow path along his chest. "You're strong, so strong… We could—"

Adam stabbed her through the stomach.

Her eyes bulged. She let out a choked gasp, fingers clutching at his arm.

Adam leaned in, voice flat. "Not interested."

He yanked the saber free, and she collapsed.

Silence.

The only sounds left were the crackling of his saber and the labored breathing of the captives still locked in the transport.

Adam turned to them.

They huddled together, eyes wide, terrified… and hopeful.

He flicked his wrist, slicing off the lock on their cage.

"Go," he said.

For a moment, they hesitated. Then, one by one, they scrambled out, some crying, some whispering prayers of thanks.

A few even tried to bow to him, but Adam shook his head. "Just get out of here."

"T-thank...you!"

One of them said as they walked away.

That left the masked alien.

Adam turned to face him, stepping over the bloodied sand.

The alien was shaking. "P-please… I just— I was just buying for my boss!"

Adam's grip on his saber tightened. "Why?"

The alien flinched. "I-it's for my boss!"

Adam narrowed his eyes. "And who is that?"

The alien hesitated, then stammered, "Garpan—h-he's the biggest merchant in to—"

He never finished the sentence.

Adam swung.

The alien's head hit the ground before the rest of his body followed.

With the last of the slavers dead, Adam exhaled slowly.

Then, with practiced efficiency, he looted their bodies. Their credits, their weapons—anything useful, he took. These bastards had stolen enough from others.

Finally, he walked over to his damaged hoverbike.

He sighed, running a hand over the busted frame. "I'll fix you up, don't worry."