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“You’re quiet,” he observed, his amber eyes studying me. “Are you in pain?”

I almost laughed. “No. I’m just...feeling pretty useless, to be honest.”

Khaaz paused in his work, his luminous gaze flicking toward me.

“My job was data entry,” I explained, absently running my fingers over the strange material of the pack. “Sitting at a desk for eight hours a day, entering numbers into spreadsheets. The most adventurous thing I did was occasionally eat lunch outside when the weather was nice. This?” I gestured around at the jungle. “This is literally the opposite of everything I’ve ever prepared for.”

Zehn’s expression softened slightly. “What else were you prepared for, then?”

I thought about it, trying to find anything in my mundane Earth existence that might be useful in this situation. “I can make a pretty decent omelet? Though that’s not much help without eggs. I know how to navigate public transportation. I’m pretty good at Excel.” I sighed. “Not seeing a lot of transferable skills here.”

Zehn seemed amused. “What about self-defense? Surely Earth females must protect themselves?”

“I mean, I took a self-defense class once. And I carry pepper spray.” I shrugged. “But I’m guessing that won’t do much against whatever’s hunting us.”

Zehn and Khaaz exchanged a look I couldn’t interpret.

“What about weapons?” Zehn asked. “Have you handled them before?”

“Actually, yeah,” I admitted. “I go to the shooting range regularly. My dad was big on gun safety, and after I moved to the city alone...” I trailed off, suddenly self-conscious.

Zehn’s interest was piqued. “What kinds of weapons?”

“Pistols mostly. Some rifles. I’m better with handguns.”

To my surprise, Khaaz approached, reaching into the pack he’d assembled from the lab. He pulled out what looked like a sleek, metallic handgun, though its design was unlike anything I’d seen on Earth.

“This is a pulse pistol,” he said, his rough voice careful as he offered it to me, handle first. “Similar in concept to your Earth weapons, but it fires concentrated energy rather than projectiles. No recoil.”

I took it hesitantly, feeling its weight. It was lighter than it looked, the grip conforming to my hand as if custom-made.

“There is no safety mechanism as you would understand it,” Zehn explained, stepping closer. “It’s keyed to biometrics. Once you’ve fired it, it will recognize only your hand signature.”

“So it won’t work for anyone else?” I asked.

“It will still fire,” Khaaz said, “but with reduced accuracy and power. A failsafe in case the weapon is stolen.”

“Clever,” I murmured, examining the pistol more carefully. There was a small indicator on the side, glowing blue. “What’s this for?”

“Power level,” Zehn said. “Blue is full charge. Yellow is half. Red means you have perhaps three shots remaining before it needs recharging.”

“And how do I recharge it?”

Khaaz stepped closer, his scarred body towering over me. “There are power cells in the pack. I’ll show you later.”

Zehn gestured toward a fallen log about twenty meters away. “Try it. Aim for the notch in the center.”

I hesitated, glancing around. “Won’t the sound attract attention?”

Zehn’s mouth curved slightly. “It’s nearly silent. The energy discharge creates a soft heat wave that dissipates quickly.”

I lifted the weapon, sighting along its barrel. The notch in the log was small, maybe three centimeters wide. I took a breath, steadied my aim, and pulled the trigger.

There was no bang, no kickback—just a soft whoosh of air and a flash of blue light. The log exploded at exactly the point I’d aimed, sending splinters flying.

“Holy shit,” I breathed.

Zehn grinned, a predatory expression that shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. “Again. The tree to the left, the damaged branch.”

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