The cargo bay of Kairo's stronghold was a cavern of black reinforced alloy, cold enough that breath should have misted—if any of the creatures present had breathed the same atmosphere as Earth. Overhead, enormous mechanical cranes moved shipping containers with ponderous precision. Armed Kethri guards flanked the inspection zone, their bioelectric pathways humming faintly in the dim light.

The discrepancy had been small. A weight variance. A container that didn't match its manifest. Standard protocol demanded a full inspection. Kairo had attended personally because sabotage attempts were tedious, and he preferred to make examples of them quickly.

Two lower-ranking Kethri scrambled forward, their claws working the container's locking mechanism. With a hiss of releasing pressure, the door swung open.

Inside, among the crates of military-grade hardware, something much smaller had been wedged. A containment pod, transparent, roughly four feet long. The kind used for transporting live specimens.

It wasn't a question. It was a death sentence waiting for a name.

Kairo moved. His footsteps sent vibrations through the floor as he approached the container. The guards fell back. His shadow swallowed the pod entirely.

Inside, curled in a nest of thin padding, was a creature he had never seen before. Small. Soft-looking. Two arms. A mane of hair in a shade that didn't occur naturally on any species he'd encountered in two hundred systems. Pale skin, fragile fingers, a face that was—oddly flat, strangely expressive.

Kairo's four hands flexed. The bioelectric pathways along his arms flared—not with anger, but with something else. Something that made Kaiven's eyes narrow with concern.

His voice echoed through the bay. Several guards flinched.

But his eyes—all of them—remained fixed on the small, shivering form inside the pod.