Perhaps it was impulsive for Jinyue to fight the insects head-on. He had a chance to run away while they were occupied after all. However, with how quickly the insect noticed his presence once near him, he knew immediately that the escape would prove futile. Therefore, he could only attack head-on.
The insects fell quiet.
Their bodies lay split across the sand, steaming where acid touched scrap and stone. Jinyue did not move at once. He stayed where he was, weight balanced on the balls of his feet, tail low and still behind him. He listened.
Wind scraped over the plateau. Metal groaned as the wreck settled. No wings. No shrieks. No vibration through the ground.
Finished.
Only then did he look at the stranger.
The zerg stood several paces away, weapon raised but no longer tracking targets. His breathing stood out to Jinyue's ears. Too fast. Not panic. Fatigue layered over pain. The kind that comes after a long stretch without rest. The kind that dulls judgment.
Jinyue filed it away.
Black curly hair clung to the man's face with sweat. His eyes are an intense amber, even now, slit pupils wide in the pale light. Predator eyes. They kept shifting. Not to Jinyue alone. To the ground. To the horizon. Back to the wreck behind him.
Protective.
Jinyue felt no pull toward him. Only awareness.
A person.
After four years, that fact alone pressed strangely against his senses. He did not lower his weapon. Neither did the stranger. They stood like that while the dust settled. Jinyue broke the silence.
"You should leave."
His voice carried clearly. The words held no challenge.
The wind changed direction.
The stranger's eyes snapped to him.
For a second, Jinyue thought the man would fire. His shoulders tightened. His grip shifted. The stranger was now assessing him fully. Their eyes widened inexplicably, and a couple of emotions passed through the stranger's eyes. Most prevailing was shock. He seemed to go through many emotions at once till he finally resigned to fate.
"I can't…your excellency," the stranger said. His voice rasped. Strained. He had forced it steadily. "My crew is injured."
Jinyue could only wince as disgust and shock overtook him. Your Excellency? Why address a stranger as such? Did the stranger know he was a male Zerg? But how? He was fully covered up, and according to Cody, taller than the average male. So how did this turn out that way? Jinyue chose not to dignify that with a response.
Regardless, on the second matter, Jinyue already knew.
He had smelled the foreign blood before the ship finished crashing. Old blood and new. He had sensed the uneven breathing from inside the wreck. One shallow. One wet. One fading in and out.
He did not comment on it either.
"This planet is not safe," Jinyue said. "You brought insects."
The stranger winced slightly at that. It was as if his whole-body language had shifted after calling him his excellency. It did not dwell well with Jinyue, whose social skills with non-human…Zerg. was skewed. Emotions were harder to read than he'd expected after a prolonged stay with a robot. He glanced back again at the wreck.
"They followed us," he said. "We did not choose this place."
"You should leave," Jinyue repeated. "Before they spread."
The stranger shook his head once.
"I can't move…" he said. "Not like this."
Jinyue followed his gaze at last. He covertly expanded his senses; the stranger flinched... interesting, he picked up on it. Jinyue mentally added a reminder to use his powers sparingly in front of any Zergs.
The wreck sat torn open along one side. Plates peeled back. Systems dark. Smoke drifted from inside. He could feel shapes within. Bodies. One barely moving. One slumped wrong.
Weak.
Jinyue felt a flicker of irritation; they would not be leaving any time soon, it seemed. Additionally, insects this close to his territory meant risk. Risk to his ship. Risk to his stores. Risk to the quiet he had built and guarded with teeth and time. He had killed to protect the less.
"You should still leave," he said.
The stranger looked back at him, eyes sharp despite exhaustion.
"Is this your planet?" he asked. "This planet is marked as desolate."
Jinyue did not answer at once.
Some people could buy planets for occupancy, but Jinyue had none of that. Ownership was a human habit. He had shed it piece by piece. This place was not his. He had not shaped it. He had not claimed it by law or flag. But he had survived here, grown to like the place even. That mattered more.
"It is," Jinyue said.
That was enough.
Silence stretched again.
The stranger lowered his weapon by a few centimetres. Not a surrender. A test, most likely.
"My name is Mark," he said. "I won't bring trouble to your home if I can avoid it."
Jinyue did not offer his own name. Names meant unnecessary familiarity.
"You already did," he said.
That ended it.
Jinyue lowered his weapon and turned away.
Kaerin stiffened. Confusion flickered across his face. He had expected a demand. An order. A threat wrapped in rank. Instead, the male zerg dismissed him as one might dismiss debris after a storm.
Jinyue took three steps before a panel on the wrecked van slid open with a tired grind. The machine that emerged moved with purpose. Its frame bore old lines. Angular. Broad shoulders. Too solid for its age. Scratches scored its plating. New joints replaced old ones. Someone had rebuilt it piece by piece rather than let it die.
Cody's optics scanned the vicinity.
He scanned Jinyue first.
"Damage assessment," Cody said. His voice held a flat warmth. "No structural harm detected. Energy output within expected variance."
Jinyue did not respond.
Cody turned.
Kaerin froze.
The machine's sensors passed over him in a clean sweep. Light traced his posture. His breathing. The micro tremor in his hands that Kaerin had failed to notice.
"Female zerg hybrid identified," Cody said. "Mental strain elevated. Sleep deprivation severe. Pain suppression ongoing."
Kaerin stared.
"That unit," he said, voice calm, as if making an observation. "That model was decommissioned."
Cody tilted his head. "Incorrect. This unit functions."
Kaerin took a step closer without meaning to. His eyes tracked every seam. Every replaced plate. "They destroyed your line. You were deemed unstable."
"Adaptive," Cody said. "The distinction matters."
Kaerin looked from Cody to Jinyue. Shock bled into disbelief. "You kept one."
Jinyue was already walking away.
"Master," Cody said. "They are injured."
Jinyue did not slow. "Not my concern."
Cody hesitated. Then followed. "Their survival odds improve with assistance."
"Then assist them if you want to," Jinyue said. "I'm leaving."
Kaerin watched them go, mind racing. A strong male zerg who walked away from leverage, yet at the same time, exhibited the same behaviour as some males, cold indifference. A forbidden machine that spoke back. Nothing about this encounter fit the rules he lived by.
"Wait," Kaerin said.
Jinyue stopped. He did not turn.
Kaerin forced the next words out. "I did not come here by choice."
Silence answered him.
Cody looked between them. "Context noted," he said. "No action requested."
Jinyue resumed walking.
Cody lingered a second longer, optics dimming as if in thought. "You should rest," he told Kaerin. "Your judgment will degrade further."
Then he followed Jinyue.
Kaerin stood alone beside the wreck, sand curling around his boots, watching two impossibilities retreat into the waste.
******
Jinyue did not head directly to the homeship. He took the rover instead and drove east, away from the wreck, away from the plateau, away from the path that would lead back to his home. The ground blurred beneath the wheels. Sand scattered. Old tracks vanished under fresh ones. If the stranger followed, he would follow the wrong trail.
Cody settled into the secondary seat, bracing as the rover climbed broken terrain. His sensors swept behind them, then widened.
"You diverted," Cody said.
"Yes."
"If the objective is return, this path is inefficient."
Jinyue did not slow. "It is safer."
Cody processed that and then said. "Probability of pursuit was low,"
"Low is not zero."
The rover cut across a shallow ravine. Dust swallowed their wake. Cody's optics dimmed, then brightened again. "You could have assisted further."
Jinyue felt the tension settle between his shoulders. He did not look at the machine. "I already did."
"Elaboration," Cody said.
"I killed the insects," Jinyue said. "That is enough."
"The injured crew remains vulnerable," Cody said. "One individual exhibited severe decline."
"I am not responsible for them," Jinyue said.
Cody did not answer at once. He ran simulations instead. Jinyue could feel it in the quiet. The pause that meant Cody was choosing his words. His head tilted. "You could benefit from a companion."
Jinyue let out a slow breath through his nose. "No."
"Extended isolation degrades cognitive and emotional stability," Cody said. "Historical data supports—"
"I am stable," Jinyue cut in.
Cody turned his head slightly, optics narrowing. "Stability and preference are not synonymous."
Jinyue felt irritation stir. That same familiar friction. Cody always pushed where logic suggested improvement, not where comfort lived.
"The female showed no signs of deception," Cody said. "His priorities were survival-oriented."
The rover climbed another rise. Stone scraped the undercarriage. Jinyue slowed, guiding them through a narrow cut between broken slabs. He did not rush. Speed drew attention.
Jinyue's grip tightened on the controls. "I am not used to zergs."
"That includes females," Cody said.
"Yes."
Silence followed. The rover crested another rise.
"My heat is close," Jinyue said.
Cody's processing spiked. Memory logs surfaced. Behavioural shifts. Risk patterns.
"I acknowledge the concern," Cody said. "Proximity during that period increases volatility."
"I did not feel comfortable," Jinyue said.
"Understood," Cody replied. The matter closed.
They drove on, circling wide, cutting through stone fields and salt flats. Jinyue doubled back once, then again, letting wind and time erase direction. By the time the ship's signal came into range, no clear path remained.
Still, his thoughts returned to the wreck. To the stranger's eyes. Sharp despite strain. To the others inside the hull. Breathing uneven. Lives held together by thin margins.
He hoped they survived.
Nothing more.
The shock lingered. The simple fact of another presence after years of silence. It had stirred something old and brief, then passed. Jinyue reached the ship as dusk bled into the sky. He powered down the rover and stood for a moment, listening to the quiet he had chosen.