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The woman beamed with pride. “Indeed I do! My family’s been tending these orchards for generations. Best apples in the county, if I do say so myself.”

“They certainly look delicious,” Winn agreed, her gaze lingering on a particularly large, red apple. Winn’s fascination with Earth customs—this seemingly pointless conversation—reminded him of her humanity and connection to this world.

“Tell me,” he interjected, his voice low and measured. “Are your orchards vast? Do they stretch for many…” He referenced the appropriate word through Rory. “Many miles?”

The woman chuckled. “Not quite miles, but they do cover a good chunk of land. Passed down through my family for generations, like I said. My great-great-grandfather planted the first seeds.”

Generations of family, aconcept alien to Intergalactic Warriors. Intriguing. He found himself fascinated by thewoman’s pride in her heritage, her connection to the land. Humans rooted and acquired a sense of belonging through terrain. He found it quite a contrast to the nomadic existence of anIW.

“We’ll take a crate of your apples,” Winn cut in. “And your largest sack of seeds, please.”

The woman lifted an eyebrow, curiosity gleaming in her gaze. “My largest one is fifty pounds. You sure you want one that large?”

“What would it cost?”

Jo’Nay observed the exchange with a mixture of impatience and concern. He didn’t give avexxhow much the woman wanted for her products. They carried enough human currency, did they not? Why barter?

Maybe it was the human way of things. He listened intently while Winn went back and forth over price before finally nodding. Retrieving a stack of green paper slips from her bag, she handed them over to the woman.

“We have a truck coming soon. Can we have the crate and seeds moved to that location?”

“If your man promises to return my hand truck right away, Ihave no objection to his using it.”

As the woman organized their apples and seeds, Jo’Nay couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had been gnawing at him since their arrival. They were too exposed in a crowded marketplace, which made them an easy target. His gaze darted from face to face, assessing every movement, every flicker of expression.Maintain vigilance. Anticipate threats. Protect Winn at all costs.

“All set,” the woman announced, gesturing toward a crate of apples and a large burlap bag of seeds. “Enjoy!”

“Thank you,” Winn replied, her smile genuine and unguarded.

She possessed such a trusting nature which could be a weakness in this environment. After loading the crate of apples onto the hand truck and tossing the bag of seeds on top, he guided Winn away from the stall, one hand pushing the conveyance while the other shifted protectively to her back, steering her through the throngs of humans with a mixture of caution and impatience. All he wanted was to complete the mission and return to the safety of the ship, all while minimizing their exposure.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans. Asudden commotion erupted behind Jo’Nay, shattering the peaceful ambiance of the bustling marketplace. He stiffened, the warrior within him instantly alert, the carefree façade he had so carefully cultivated crumbling as instinct tookover.

He registered the shift in energy, in sound and movement, as a wave of fear rolled through the crowd, and realized he’d been lulled into a false sense of security by their enjoyment of the market, by the normalcy of their task. What was it? Asimple mishap? An accident? Or something more sinister?

He had to assess the situation in order to ensure Winn’s safety. He noted a surge in the crowd, awave of bodies pressing forward then back as a ripple of fear and panic spread through the marketplace. It was like a predator entering a flock of unsuspecting prey, the sudden surge of adrenaline, the primal instinct to flee, to survive. He could smell it, taste it, feel it in the very air he breathed.

It was a sixth sense, aprimal awareness of danger that transcended the five basic senses. It was a feeling he’d learned to trust, honed over centuries of combat, of facing down threats both known and unknown. The feeling had saved his life countless times, and now it screamed at him, warning him of an imminent threat.

He tensed, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring, ready to unleash its deadly force. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, preparing him for battle. His hand instinctively reached for the hidden sword beneath his jacket, his fingers brushing against the familiar hilt, asource of comfort in this strange, unfamiliar world.

Four figures, their faces concealed by masks, burst through the crowd, scattering humans like frightenedflitfurs. Their movements were swift and brutal. Criminals, intent on causing chaos, their objective unknown.

The crowd parted before them, asea of terrified faces, cries of alarm rising above the din of the marketplace. Humans, Jo’Nay observed, were a skittish species, easily startled, prone to panic in the face of danger. He could see it in their eyes, the primal fear, the desperate scramble for safety.

It was foolish, he knew, to even consider using a weapon in this crowded marketplace. Winn had warned him. No Vettian displays, she had said. Blend in. Be human. But the primal urge to protect his mate, his offspring, overwhelmed his rational thought. Winn’s safety was paramount. Eliminate the threat. No hesitation. Those were the only directives driving himnow.

He had been programmed for this, trained from childhood to be a weapon, aprotector, ashield against the forces of chaos. But now, his purpose had shifted, his loyalty no longer solely to the Vettian government, but to this small, fragile human femalewho had captured his heart and awakened emotions he had never known existed.

Jo’Nay was noflitfur. He was a predator, aforce to be reckoned with. And he would not stand idly by while these criminals preyed upon the innocent. He shifted his weight, his body moving into a fighting stance, his gaze locked on the four figures as they approached a stall near the center of the marketplace.

He could feel his Vettian strength surging through him, the power that had made him a legend among his people, the power that had allowed him to survive countless battles, to defeat enemies far larger and stronger than himself.

Chapter 7

WINN’S GRIPtightened on Jo’Nay’s hand, her pulse quickening as the confrontation escalated. Just moments ago, the marketplace had been a delightful sensory experience, filled with vibrant colors, enticing aromas, and the lively hum of bartering and laughter.

Now, the air throbbed with a palpable tension. Fear, sharp and acrid, permeated the atmosphere, replacing the pleasant scents of fresh produce and baked goods with the metallic tang of adrenaline and impending violence.

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