Star Zaraki:
September 5, 2025
17:03 CST
Sky-Car-00
35,000 feet over Cedar Rapids IA.
----------------------------------------
It took us another four and a half hours to reach Cedar Rapids, Iowa, and by then, I was desperate to find a bathroom. For the past hour, I had been shifting uncomfortably in my seat, clenching my legs together, trying to distract myself from the pressure building inside me. My mind kept racing back to the experience Cayro and I had shared earlier—the intensity of our connection, the strange words that had come out of my mouth. Cayro had fallen asleep not long after Scuzball explained why we were headed to Cedar Rapids, which was a relief. He needed the rest, especially after everything we'd been through. But I couldn’t stop replaying what had happened between us—the way I’d climbed onto his lap, the way his warmth had seeped into me, igniting sensations I hadn’t even known I was capable of feeling.
I could still feel his presence in my mind where that darkness used to be. It had vanished completely after those strange, ancient words had flooded my thoughts and spilled from my lips. I wanted to understand what had happened—what we had triggered in each other. After Cayro drifted off, I’d spent the next couple of hours going through diagnostics with Scuzball, trying to figure it out. I told the A.I. about the connection we’d felt, the shared words, and the overwhelming emotions. Scuzball had run every diagnostic he could think of but found nothing out of the ordinary. He claimed everything was in working order within our bodies. The only thing he could point out was his "scientific" observation that Cayro and I were becoming sexually attracted to each other. Thanks, Scuzball—like I hadn’t already figured that out. I had never been sexually active before, so these new feelings and emotions were both thrilling and terrifying. Some help that AI was...
“Flight N142L, this is the Eastern Iowa Airport tower. We have you on approach from the northwest. You are cleared to land on runway number two. Upon landing, taxi to the corporate terminal at the end of runway number two,” the radio crackled to life, snapping me out of my thoughts. Finally, I thought. It’s about damn time.
“Acknowledged, Tower. Proceeding with landing and taxi to the corporate terminal,” Scuzball relayed back, his voice smooth and unruffled.
I reached over to gently shake Cayro awake. He grunted softly, the sound pulling a giggle from me. Why was I always the one waking him up instead of the other way around?
“What’s up?” he mumbled, still groggy.
“We’re landing,” I informed him as the skycar began its descent.
“Oh, we’re finally here?” he asked, his voice heavy with sleep.
“Yeah, we’re landing at the Eastern Iowa Airport,” I explained.
“That’s odd. Why didn’t we just go straight to the location? These skycars are designed for vertical landing and take-off. Wouldn’t it be better to avoid drawing attention?” he asked, peering out the window as the ground came into view.
“Well, since we’re traveling through enemy airspace, I had to disguise our presence as a private flight out of Houston Texas International Airport. Don’t worry about being discovered; we have cover from a corporate entity that will be helping us for the next few days,” Scuzball explained, his tone cryptic as ever.
I nodded, though I was too focused on not wetting myself to really process the information. It wasn’t long before the skycar touched down with a soft bump, the pavement roaring beneath the wheels. The engines reversed thrust, throwing our bodies forward against the harnesses. I heard Cayro gasp in pain as his harness pressed against his injured shoulder. My own discomfort was reaching critical levels, and I clenched my legs tightly together, praying I could hold on just a little longer.
The skycar taxied up to a small hangar off to the left of the runway. As we rolled into the bay, the hangar doors opened, revealing a lit area with a few Cessna airplanes parked and a small group of people waiting by a black Chevy Tahoe. Just behind the vehicle, I spotted the universal sign for restrooms. Thank God. I was already undoing my harness before the skycar came to a full stop. The moment it did, I yanked the pilot-side door open and practically launched myself out.
“Star, where are you going?” Cayro called after me, but I was already sprinting past the group of people waiting around the Tahoe. One of them called out to me, trying to get my attention, but I waved a hand in the air, signaling that I wasn’t stopping. I crashed through the bathroom door, found the nearest stall, and slammed the door shut, latching it with trembling hands. Relief washed over me as I sat down, my heart still pounding. Thank whatever god is out there—I made it.
Walking back to the skycar, I found that same group of people surrounding it. Cayro was standing outside, still shirtless, holding his injured arm close to his chest as he spoke with them. One person from the group was positioned behind him, carefully examining the wound. My instincts flared up as I watched them, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach. I ducked into the pilot’s door, trying to keep a low profile, and whispered to Scuzball.
“Who are these people?” I asked, my voice edged with suspicion.
“They are here to escort you and Cayro to the lab. You can trust them,” he replied with his usual calm certainty.
I wasn’t so sure, but I straightened up and made my way over to Cayro. “Sorry about that. I really had to use the bathroom,” I explained, trying to sound casual.
“Ah, okay. Feel better now?” he asked softly, concern flickering in his eyes.
“Much better now,” I replied, offering a small smile.
“Hello, Lady Zaraki. It’s good to finally meet you. I am Director Staroko. My team and I are here to escort you to the facility,” an older man said off to my left. He was tall, with short, cropped salt-and-pepper hair, around my father’s age—early to mid-forties, maybe. He wore a black polo shirt, dark grey slacks, and expensive loafers that seemed out of place in this setting. His face bore a set of scars that ran down the left side, jagged and deep, almost like claw marks. The top scar bisected his eyebrow, running down to his upper cheek, while the middle one sliced through his upper lip. When our eyes met, something primal in me recoiled. His bright hazel eyes were sharp, almost predatory. A chill crept down my spine. He extended his hand to me, and I forced myself to take it, shaking it quickly before turning back to Cayro.
“Are you sure we should trust them?” I whispered to him, my unease growing.
“Well, Scuzball assured me that we can trust them. I don’t think he would bring us somewhere dangerous,” Cayro replied softly, though I could sense a flicker of doubt in his voice.
Nodding, I cast a wary glance at the other members of the group. They were busy unloading our belongings from the skycar, transferring them to the back of the Tahoe. A few of them caught my eye—each had striking, unnaturally bright eyes, either a hazel that verged on yellow or a vivid winter blue. The combination was unsettling, as if they weren’t entirely human. But who was I to judge? My own eyes were an intense amethyst purple, far from ordinary.
“As I was explaining, my team and I are here to escort you and Star to the facility to complete Star’s operation. During your time with us, you will be staying at the Chairman’s residence. Everything you need will be provided to you,” Director Staroko continued, his tone smooth as he addressed Cayro.
“Alright, what about the skycar and Scuzball?” Cayro asked, his voice guarded.
“We will be transporting the vehicle to the facility for safekeeping. From my understanding, Scuzball will be moved to the suit container that we will be taking to your quarters. There is no need for concern about something happening to him,” the Director replied, his words laced with an unsettling confidence.
Before I knew it, Cayro and I were being guided towards the Tahoe. I helped him into the vehicle, careful of his injury, before climbing in beside him. As I settled into the seat, the deep rumble of an engine caught my attention. A black semi-truck with a matching box trailer rolled up to the hangar doors. The hiss of air brakes echoed through the space as the truck parked. I watched as the skycar folded its wings and moved towards the back of the trailer. Sliding into the seat next to Cayro, I felt him slip his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together. The warmth of his touch helped calm my nerves, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were stepping into something far more dangerous than we realized. Trusting him, I closed the door, trying to push the unease away.
Director Staroko climbed into the driver’s seat, started the Tahoe, and pulled out of the hangar, leaving the rest of his team behind to handle whatever was needed for our arrival.
It wasn’t long before we were cruising north on Interstate-380. The Director kept a steady pace, the ride smooth and uneventful. But questions churned in my mind. Who was this Chairman, and why were we staying at his house? Was he someone my father knew? Or was he connected to Captain Clark? Cedar Rapids wasn’t a place we’d ever been before, and the uncertainty gnawed at me.
“Director? Who is this Chairman you were referring to?” I asked, unable to keep the question to myself any longer.
“All of your questions will be answered in due time, Lady Zaraki,” he replied, his tone as infuriatingly calm as ever.
I huffed, crossing my arms in frustration, and shot a glare at the back of his head. What was with all this cloak-and-dagger nonsense?
“Why do you keep calling her Lady Zaraki?” Cayro asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.
“I understand that you both have many questions, but it would be best if you waited until we arrive at our destination,” the Director responded, his patience unwavering.
I shot a glare into the rear-view mirror, locking eyes with the Director. For a split second, I could have sworn his eyes flashed the same eerie yellow that Cayro’s had earlier that morning. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly looked away, turning to Cayro for reassurance. But all I got was a shrug from his good shoulder and a confused look in his eyes. Great, he was going to be no help at all.
The Tahoe took a subtle shift as we exited onto Iowa State Road 100 West. The landscape outside whizzed past in a blur until we crossed over the Cedar River. That’s when I saw it—a massive black sign with bold white letters declaring, SkyTeam Aerospace Foundation. Home of the world’s most advanced aerospace technologies and advancements. Beneath that, in smaller font, was their ubiquitous slogan, “The Choice is Clear”, accompanied by an image of a hand holding up a glass of crystal-clear water. My jaw dropped, and I turned to Cayro, who was just as wide-eyed as I was. It finally sank in: we were heading to the headquarters of SkyTeam Aerospace Foundation, one of the most secretive and enigmatic organizations in the world when it came to their research and technology.
As the realization hit us, the Director turned off the main road and into the Foundation’s sprawling complex. Cayro’s head was glued to the passenger side window, taking in everything around us with a mix of awe and curiosity. In the distance, I spotted two massive airships hovering in the air, bathed in the glow of floodlights. They were painted in white and red, with a popular cruise line’s logo emblazoned on their sides. We drove past several enormous buildings, each one labeled with the department and the types of advanced technologies being produced inside.
“Star! Look!” Cayro pointed excitedly as we passed the skyboard manufacturing facility.
I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, though a pang of jealousy stabbed at my chest. He was going to be utterly distracted the entire time we were here. I bit my lower lip, trying to push the feeling aside, but I couldn’t shake the thought that I might not be the center of his attention.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
We finally left the industrial area behind and approached a gated entrance with a grand stone archway, leading to a tree-lined road. The Director drove us up to an imposing Tuscan-style mansion made of stone and dark wood, with a circular driveway in front. The house loomed over us as we pulled up to the entrance. Director Staroko put the Tahoe in park and stepped out, circling around to my side to open the door. He offered me his hand, but before I could take it, I heard a low, guttural growl from beside me.
I turned to see Cayro glaring at the Director, his eyes flashing that same eerie yellow. Alarmed, I let go of the Director’s hand and slid out of the Tahoe, stepping aside to give Cayro room. He slid out as well, placing himself protectively between me and the Director, his expression hard and angry. I quickly reached out and took his hand, lacing my fingers with his in an attempt to calm him down.
“Calm down, Cayro. He was just helping me out of the vehicle. There’s no harm in that,” I pleaded softly.
He relaxed slightly at my touch, though his gaze remained wary. I had no idea what was getting into him, but something was definitely off.
“My apologies, Master Bracton. I meant no offense,” the Director said, his tone calm and composed as he took a step back.
I took a moment to look up at the mansion. It was even more impressive up close, with light spilling out from the windows and casting a warm glow over the front steps. As we stood there, the large double doors opened, and a middle-aged woman began descending the steps. She wore a dark pantsuit with a long white blazer that trailed behind her like a cape. Her bright white hair was pulled back into a ponytail that swayed with each click of her high heels. She looked every bit the part of a professional businesswoman on a mission, her frameless glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of her nose.
“Took you long enough, Stephan,” she said in a chiding Russian accent as she approached.
“Oh, don’t start, Katrina. They just arrived,” the Director snapped back, sounding more annoyed than anything.
The woman shot a glare at the Director before turning to face me and Cayro. What happened next caught me completely off guard. She bowed to us, a deep and respectful gesture that left me more confused than ever.
“Welcome home, Lady Zaraki and Master Bracton. Please follow us inside,” she said in a tone that was both warm and formal.
I exchanged a bewildered look with Cayro, who raised an eyebrow and mouthed the word “master” to me. I shrugged helplessly, indicating I was just as clueless as he was. This was strange as hell—why were they treating us like royalty?
“Don’t worry, we will fill you both in once we are inside,” the Director explained, sensing our confusion.
Shaking my head to clear the whirl of emotions, I followed the strange woman, Katrina, and the Director into the mansion. The warmth of the interior immediately enveloped me—dark wood and stone combining to give the place the atmosphere of an ancient yet inviting castle. The rich, earthy scent of polished wood filled the air as I took in my surroundings. My eyes widened as I noticed something unsettling: photos of myself, Cayro, and the crew were everywhere—hanging on the walls, sitting on shelves. It was as if this mansion had been watching over us, chronicling our lives in silence.
As we walked through the grand foyer, the Director and Katrina led us down a hallway that curved to the right, ending at a heavy wooden door. The Director paused, opened the door, and gestured for us to enter. As I stepped into the room, my breath caught in my throat. I came to a dead stop, overwhelmed by what I saw.
The office was enormous, its walls lined with towering bookshelves filled with countless volumes. In the center of the room stood a large, imposing desk made of dark wood that matched the rich tones of the rest of the mansion. Two leather armchairs faced the desk, their dark, worn surfaces gleaming in the soft light. But it wasn’t the grandeur of the room that stole my breath—it was the paintings on the wall behind the desk.
My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the floor as the tears came. I could barely see through the blur of my emotions, but there was no mistaking it. My mother. The first painting showed her sitting gracefully in one of the armchairs, her legs draped over one of the arms, completely absorbed in a book. Her auburn copper hair flowed down her back like liquid fire, her expression serene and lost in the world of the story. And next to her was a mirror image—me, in the exact same pose, but instead of an armchair, I was sitting in the captain’s chair aboard the Autumn. The memory of that day came rushing back—my father had visited, snapping a picture of me while I was engrossed in my reading. I had been annoyed at the time, but he’d just smiled and told me that one day, I’d understand. Now I understood, and it broke me.
I felt Cayro kneel beside me, his hand moving gently up and down my back, a soothing gesture in the storm of my emotions.
“Talk to me, Star,” he said, his voice calm but laced with concern.
“It’s my mother…” I choked out, my voice trembling under the weight of the grief I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying for years.
Cayro froze, letting my words sink in. I hadn’t seen a picture of her in so long—not since the only photo I had was ruined. A delegate’s child had spilled a drink on my desk, and by the time I found it, the damage was irreparable. I never thought to ask my father if he had another photo of her. I had resented him for so long, convinced he didn’t love me or care about me. But now… now I was faced with the undeniable evidence of his love, his deep, unspoken love that he had somehow preserved in this place.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the portraits, the way they captured a connection I hadn’t fully understood until now. Cayro gently tugged at me, urging me to stand, but I didn’t want to move. The pain and confusion were too much, and I felt like I would crumble if I let go. But then I felt his strength beside me, grounding me, and I managed to get to my feet.
As I stood, leaning into Cayro for support, I noticed the two figures who led us here standing by my father’s desk, patiently waiting for me to gather myself. There was something in their expressions—a mix of pity, understanding, and something else I couldn’t quite place.
“Will you be okay, Lady Zaraki?” the woman asked softly, her voice gentle and respectful.
I gave her a halfhearted nod, though I wasn’t sure I believed it myself. I was grateful for Cayro’s presence, knowing I couldn’t have handled this alone.
“Does this answer your questions?” the Director asked, his tone measured, as if he knew there were more layers to uncover.
I shook my head, feeling more questions bubbling up inside me. “No, not all of them. Why do you keep calling me Lady Zaraki? My name is Star,” I asked, trying to steady my voice despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me.
The woman and the Director exchanged a glance, and I saw that same mix of pity and understanding in their eyes.
“You are the matriarchal heir of Dr. H. M. Zaraki, the chairman of SkyTeam Aerospace Foundation. And from our understanding, Master Bracton is your partner. So outside of your father and Captain Clark, you two hold the highest positions here at SkyTeam Aerospace Foundation,” the woman explained.
Her words hit me like a freight train. Matriarchal heir? Highest positions? My mind raced to catch up, but nothing made sense. I looked up at Cayro, seeking answers, but all I found was the same confusion mirrored in his eyes.
I blinked at her in utter astonishment, trying to make sense of the bombshell she had just dropped.
“What does that mean, and who exactly are you?” I asked, not bothering to hide the sharp edge in my voice. This whole situation was spinning into something far bigger than I had anticipated, and I wasn’t about to play along without some answers.
“Oh, my apologies. I’m Dr. Katrina Volkova. I’ll be overseeing the completion of your augmentation and making sure you’re well taken care of while you’re here at SkyTeam headquarters. And this idiot next to me…” she began, only to be cut off by the Director himself.
“Hey!” he interrupted, clearly not appreciating her choice of words.
“…is Senior Director Stephan Staroko. He runs this place and is a constant thorn in my side,” she finished, hopping up to sit on my father’s desk, crossing her legs casually as if she owned the place.
I couldn’t help but crack a smile at her bluntness. It was refreshing, given the circumstances.
“Yeah, yeah, very funny, Katrina,” the Director said, rolling his eyes but not seeming genuinely offended. “You’re both welcome to make yourselves at home during your stay. We’ll give you the next twelve hours to rest and recuperate from what I’m sure has been a rather exhausting couple of days. Scuzball has briefed us on your situation, and we’ll do everything we can to make you comfortable.”
I nodded, turning my gaze up to Cayro. “What do you think?” I asked, needing his input.
“Let’s at least get some rest before we decide our next move. I need a shower, and you probably do too,” he replied softly, and I couldn’t help but agree.
“Yeah, a long, hot shower sounds like heaven after the last forty-eight hours,” I said, my body aching for the comfort of warmth and cleanliness.
Cayro leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, sending a pleasant shiver through me, making my toes curl in my boots.
“Perfect. Star, I’ll show you to your room. Stephan, will you show Cayro to his?” Dr. Volkova asked, pushing off from the desk.
But Cayro and I spoke up simultaneously. “No… we stay together.”
The words came out naturally, without hesitation. We both seemed equally surprised by our insistence, but it was clear we were on the same page. The thought of being separated, even for a moment, was unbearable after everything we’d been through.
Dr. Volkova looked surprised, but the Director just chuckled, as if he’d seen this coming.
“I saw that coming a mile away. Katrina, why don’t you show them to Lady Zaraki’s room? But before you go, there’s some paperwork Mr. Bracton needs to address,” the Director said, picking up a stack of documents from the desk.
“What paperwork?” Cayro asked, his tone wary.
“It’s the paperwork to accept your father’s share of the company. Upon his death, his shares were placed into a trust, set to be transferred to you once you completed your augmentation,” the Director explained, his voice steady and businesslike.
Cayro’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, I thought the shares my father held were sold off to some unknown partner. Dr. Zaraki said he wasn’t sure who bought them.”
“That’s because your father set up a shell company to make it appear as though they were sold. He entrusted it to me, knowing Dr. Zaraki—no offense—is notoriously bad with paperwork and wouldn’t dig deeper,” the Director said with a chuckle, his tone light but the implications heavy.
Without waiting, I walked up to the Director and took the paperwork from his hands, my eyes narrowing as I started to skim through the pages.
“Hey! That’s meant for Mr. Bracton, Lady Zaraki,” the Director protested.
I shot him a fierce glare, my eyes locking onto his. “How do we know this isn’t a ploy for you to gain control of his rightful shares?” I growled, my voice low and threatening.
The Captain’s voice echoed in my mind, reminding me to always read the fine print. I wasn’t about to let Cayro sign away his future without being damn sure it was the right move.
“I saw that coming a mile away, Stephan…” Dr. Volkova said with a smirk, leaning back on the desk with an air of amusement.
I gave her a quick nod of acknowledgment before diving back into the legal jargon. The Director shifted uncomfortably, crossing his arms, clearly annoyed but also aware he was in no position to argue.
It took me nearly thirty minutes to finish reading the documents, every line scrutinized. Finally, I looked up at Cayro, shoving the paperwork into his hands.
“Sign it,” I said bluntly.
He arched an eyebrow, surprised at my abruptness. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“Oh, I’m absolutely sure. You’re going to want to sign this. For one, it will make you a voting partner on the board of directors. Two, it will release all of your shares to you. And three, this is the most important part: it will ensure your protection under any and all circumstances that may arise. This contract gives you one-third interest in SkyTeam Aerospace Foundation, and the Foundation will do everything in its power to protect you,” I explained, my tone firm and unwavering.
“I don’t quite understand most of what you said, Star,” Cayro admitted, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Just sign the damn document, Cayro!” I snapped, more harshly than I intended.
He flinched, clearly taken aback by my tone, but didn’t argue. Instead, he walked over to the desk, where the Director handed him a pen. I watched carefully as he signed each spot the Director pointed out, my mind racing. I knew this was the right move—he would thank me one day, even if he didn’t understand it now.
Once the final signature was in place, Dr. Volkova gestured for us to follow her. She led us up a grand banister towards the mansion’s second floor, the plush carpet under our feet muffling our steps. The hallway was lined with identical doors, each one a portal into a room that likely held its own secrets. But we stopped near the end, where she opened a door that, at first glance, seemed no different from the others—except for one small detail. My initials were fixed to the door in oil-rubbed bronze, the letters gleaming softly in the light.
Seeing those letters made my chest tighten with a swirl of emotions I wasn’t prepared for. Sorrow for the time lost, but also an unexpected surge of joy. My father, despite everything, had cared enough to carve out a space for me in his home, a place where I belonged.
Stepping through the threshold, I came to a complete halt, my breath catching in my throat. The room was a reflection of my tastes, almost as if I had designed it myself. Dark wood accents complemented the amethyst-colored walls, creating a space that felt both comforting and familiar. To the far right, a grand four-poster king-size bed dominated the room, draped in a luxurious dark grey bed set with amethyst accents. Directly across from it, a large window overlooked the front of the house, framed by heavy, matching curtains.
My gaze shifted to the left, where a sleek black desk stood. Perched on top was a high-end desktop computer, its glass side panel revealing the intricate inner workings. The hotrod red gaming chair that accompanied it was the exact same model as the Captain’s—another detail that brought a smile to my face. On the desk were picture frames, each holding moments from my life: me with the crew, my mother, and others that filled me with a deep sense of belonging.
To the right of the desk, a door likely led to an en suite bathroom and closet, while to the left of the bedroom door stood a large curio cabinet, matching the dark theme of the room. Beside it were the belongings we had brought from the skycar, neatly arranged and waiting for us. Tears welled up in my eyes again as I realized that my father hadn’t just given me a room—he had given me a home, a place where I was wanted and loved.
Dr. Volkova, still standing in the doorway, spoke softly. “Lady Zaraki, your father took great care in making sure you always had a place to come home to. He’s been waiting a long time for you to see this. He has always wanted you here with him. But due to the situation you and Master Bracton are currently dealing with, you couldn’t be here. You may not believe me, but your father loves you very much. Please have a restful evening. If you need anything, just dial zero on your room phone, and the house staff will take care of it.”
With those words, she turned and walked back down the hall, leaving me and Cayro standing alone in the room that was now undeniably mine.