Chapter 9

The medical team arrived quickly, their silhouettes filling the docking bay as they moved with efficiency and precision. They were Cassurians, inhabitants of the planet Cassur Prime—bipedal beings resembling rabbits, with fur in vibrant shades of white, gray, brown, and even bluish tones. Their long ears moved in sync with the sounds around them, picking up every detail. Despite their maximum height of 1.6 meters, their presence exuded authority and care.

Tila stood beside Byra, her worried eyes watching as the doctors worked. Byra, now unconscious, was being carefully placed onto a floating stretcher that hovered smoothly over the metallic floor. Tila's breathing was uneven, and she couldn't take her eyes off her friend, even as the Cassurians gave instructions.

"Captain," Tila said, turning to Kador. "May I accompany her? Please, I don't want to leave her alone."

Kador, silently observing the scene, nodded with an understanding gesture. "Go. She'll need you."

Tila quickly thanked him, her voice trembling, and followed the doctors as they headed toward the ship's exit. Kador watched as she disappeared through the docking bay airlock connecting the Krysalyn to the spaceport. The doors closed behind her with a faint hiss, leaving the area quieter.

The Cassurians, however, couldn't help but notice the imposing figure of the human. Even with his helmet now covering his face, he was impossible to ignore. Some of the doctors glanced at him with horrified expressions, their eyes wide and their ears tilting in a clear reflex of discomfort. They quickened their pace, murmuring quietly among themselves as they moved away.

"Loran," Kador called over the communicator. When Loran arrived, Kador gestured for him to follow.

Before leaving, Kador approached the human, stopping close enough to tilt his neck upward to meet his gaze. He let out a brief sigh before speaking, his voice calm yet firm.

"I'll head down to the planet with Loran," he said as Nyxis translated for the human. "We need to get a translation chip. Once we return, we'll help you find your homeworld."

When Nyxis finished translating, the human simply responded, "Thank you." His voice was dry but sincere.

Kador nodded, knowing that for this being, such a simple gesture carried significant weight. He stepped back, giving a brief wave before leaving through the airlock with Loran. The human remained still, watching as the door closed with a low, final sound.

Finally, he removed his helmet, exposing his face, and let out a deep sigh. He looked around and murmured to himself, "At least they breathe oxygen."

"Ninety percent of the galaxy's species breathe oxygen," Nyxis replied abruptly, her voice as devoid of humor as always.

The human smirked slightly and responded sarcastically, "Fascinating." He feigned interest as he glanced at his bloodied and damaged armor.

After a moment, he continued, "Since we'll be alone for a while, I want to know more about this Federation. And, if it's not too much trouble, about its most important members."

"Fair," Nyxis replied. "But in return, I want to learn more about how you were raised."

The human let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "We have a deal, then."

Before he could say anything else, Nyxis interrupted again. "Would you like something to clean your armor? Its current state seems… unsatisfactory."

The human raised an eyebrow, looking at the dried blood and battle marks scattered across the metal. "You have something to clean it with?" he asked with curiosity

Kador and Loran walked side by side through the corridors of the orbital station, the soft, constant hum of machines and systems echoing in the background. The place was vast and technologically advanced, with smooth metallic walls reflecting the light of holographic screens scattered everywhere. Information flickered continuously, displaying transport schedules, commercial advertisements, and messages about local security policies.

The station was a hub of frenetic activity, with representatives of dozens of different species moving through the spacious area. There were reptilian beings with gleaming, scaly skin, creatures covered in thick fur, and even translucent beings floating in small liquid containers. The air buzzed with murmurs in countless languages, mingled with the sounds of boots, paws, and tentacles hastily moving across the metallic floor.

Kador briefly glanced around as they passed a kiosk where a Cassurian alien with bluish fur and a pristine uniform was serving what appeared to be steaming liquid in metal cups. Loran, walking beside him, also observed the scene, though with less interest. He seemed more worried than curious.

After a few minutes, they arrived at the boarding platform for the orbital shuttle. It was a suspended platform with a controlled gravitational field that kept passengers stable. The shuttle itself was a long, cylindrical structure with sleek silver panels and reinforced windows offering an impressive view of the planet Cassur Prime below.

As the entrance slid open with a faint hiss, Kador and Loran stepped inside. The interior was clean and functional, with rows of double seats and holographic screens overhead displaying destination details. The space was moderately full, with passengers of various species already seated. Some glanced at the newcomers with curiosity, but no one seemed particularly suspicious.

Kador and Loran found two seats near a window and sat down. The view of the planet below was breathtaking, with its deep blue oceans and green islands scattered like emeralds. But the tension between the two soon replaced any sense of awe.

"Is it safe to help the human?" Loran asked, breaking the silence. His voice was low, but his tone made it clear he was genuinely concerned.

Kador tilted his head slightly toward him, his eyes still on the window. "He helped us," the captain replied.

"But he was partially forced to," Loran countered, crossing his arms.

Kador sighed and finally looked at him. "Even so, he helped us." He paused before continuing, "Now I want to help him in any way I can."

Loran tilted his head, considering Kador's words. "I understand," he said. "But... don't you find it strange? This human is a killing machine... You saw what he did to those pirates. Few species survive fighting against those barbaric murderers."

Kador nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I know." He was silent for a moment before admitting, "But I confess I'm curious about his species."

Loran raised an eyebrow. "Curious? How so?"

"Think about it," Kador said, turning slightly in his seat to face him. "Perhaps his species has gone extinct. Don't you find it odd that they discovered FTL propulsion and never contacted the Federation? Not even to raid weaker worlds. In ten years, they should have appeared somewhere."

Loran tilted his head to the side, pensive. "That is really strange, Captain." He paused before adding, "But then why do you want to help him, knowing there's a strong possibility his homeworld no longer exists?"

Kador turned his gaze back to the window, his face adopting a distant expression. He took a moment to respond, but when he did, his voice was firm, almost philosophical. "I don't know. I know helping out of obligation or to repay a favor isn't the only answer. But... I just want to help. There's no more complex reason than that."

Loran remained silent, reflecting on the captain's words. Finally, he smiled faintly and said, "I understand you. You always help others. Just like you helped me. You saved me, as well as Byra and Tila."

Kador let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "Initially, it wasn't out of pity, you know. You all agreed to work for wages well below market rates." He looked at Loran, his eyes glinting with a touch of humor. "But over time, I've learned a lot from you. I've learned to value each of you."

Loran smiled more openly this time, leaning back in his seat as the orbital shuttle began its descent toward the planet. Kador, in turn, returned his gaze to the window.

The human stood in the center of the ship, his body relaxed, but the expression on his face showed a weariness that went beyond the physical. He had removed his armor, which now lay stacked in front of a machine with a strange, angular design. Dressed only in his black jumpsuit, he crossed his arms and looked at the machine with skeptical curiosity.

"Is this it?" he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"Yes," Nyxis replied, her voice calm and direct. "This is a decontamination machine that will clean and remove any contaminated material from your armor."

The human raised an eyebrow, sarcasm evident in his voice as he said, "So, basically, it's like an alien washing machine."

There was a brief pause before Nyxis responded. "I don't know what that means... but yes, I suppose it is."

The human shook his head, almost laughing, and began dismantling his armor piece by piece. He placed each part into the machine's compartment: the heavy torso, the armored shoulders, the reinforced boots. Each piece was carefully set down, the sound of metal clinking against the interior of the machine softly echoing through the room.

When he finished, he stepped back, watching as the machine began its work. A faint hum emanated from the equipment, followed by lights blinking in sequence.

"And now?" the human asked, crossing his arms as he observed the process.

"Now we wait," Nyxis replied.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the soft hum of the machine at work. Finally, the human turned to a nearby console, where one of the ship's lights blinked faintly.

"By the way," he said, his tone more casual, "was it safe to dump the bodies of those pirates into space on our way here?"

"Absolutely," Nyxis responded without hesitation. "There is no risk of contamination or environmental consequences."

"If you say so..." the human muttered, shrugging as he leaned against the metallic wall.

After a brief silence, Nyxis spoke again, her voice slightly more curious. "By the way... do you have a name beyond the identification numbers?"

The human remained quiet, his expression growing serious. He stared at the floor for a moment, as if deciding whether he should answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost apathetic.

"I don't. I'm a clone created for the Republic Marine Corps. I wasn't made to have a name."

"Have you ever thought about having one?" Nyxis asked, her curiosity still present.

He let out a short, dry laugh, devoid of humor. "You're really sentimental, aren't you?" he said sarcastically before continuing, his tone heavier now. "I've never thought about having a name. It doesn't make sense. I don't think I deserve one. Only real humans deserve names. I'm just a combat clone, made for war."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room after that statement. The machine still hummed in the background, but it felt distant, muffled by the weight of what he had said.

Finally, Nyxis broke the silence, her voice as calm as before, but with an intentional depth. "And what would you do if the war was over? Your people wouldn't just... discard you. Or would they?"

He stared at the wall, his eyes fixed on nothing, as if lost in deep thought. Nyxis's words hit him in a way he wasn't prepared to handle.

For a long moment, he remained silent, the weight of the question hanging in the air as the machine continued its work, cleaning the armor that defined him—or perhaps what he believed defined him.

"Are you sure you're just an artificial being without emotions?" the clone asked rhetorically, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he laughed softly to himself.