Chapter 231: Kunta [1]

An Alien Device. Another containment box identical in general design to the one we’d found in Jackson Township.

“This…”

The box appeared to be similar in size and construction to the previous one—roughly two feet on each side, made of that distinctive alien metallic material that seemed to absorb light rather than reflecting it.

“Another Alien Box?” Rachel muttered in disbelief as she approached cautiously, her eyes widening as she scanned the object. “There are more of these things scattered around?”

The last time we found one things had turned really wrong, I wasn’t really reassured to see another one of these things.

“You’ve encountered something like this before?” The Starakian girl asked sharply, frowning with obvious concern and suspicion.

“Yeah, we found one in another town during our travels,” I confirmed, moving closer to examine this new device more carefully. “But the one we secured is significantly bigger, maybe two times this size, and it has three separate compartments designed for containing these stones…”

I trailed off as I studied this smaller box’s configuration, noting the critical difference.

This device had only two compartment slots, and both were already filled. One contained a stone that glowed with a vibrant, healthy green luminescence, the color pulsing gently like a slow heartbeat. The other held a stone that emitted a gentle silver radiance, softer and more subdued but still clearly active and generating some kind of energy.

I couldn’t believe we found another one here on top of that.

It made me deeply uneasy, actually.

“Where exactly did you find the larger device?” Kunta asked rapidly, her questions coming in quick succession as shock registered on her alien features. “And you still have it in your possession? You said three compartments specifically? Are you absolutely certain?”

“Yes to all of those questions,” I confirmed with a nod. “And we don’t have particularly fond memories associated with finding that box, since the moment we secured it, everything went catastrophically downhill for our group. We met Hybrid Infected and had to deal with the Fire Spitter, the Frost Walker, and the Screamer, all within a span of weeks.”

I glared at her pointedly. “I suppose I should thank your people for that wonderful gift? For leaving dangerous alien technology around where humans might find it and trigger consequences they couldn’t possibly understand?”

Kunta’s expression shifted to something that looked like genuine concern rather than defensive hostility. “If your people encountered a Tri-Core Matrix device and managed to activate the containment technologies inside it, then it was placed there for a very specific strategic purpose…” She said slowly, as if working through implications as she spoke. “The resources required to deploy something that sophisticated wouldn’t be wasted on random placement.”

“We already told you, those Enhanced Infected were hunting us specifically,” Rachel spoke up.

She didn’t mention Wanda whom I believe was the main reason that Tri Core Matric as she said had been used on Jackson Township.

She then took an involuntary step backward as Sonny suddenly moved, the mechanical construct walking over to position itself protectively at Kunta’s side.

Kunta looked at both of us with renewed suspicion, her eyes narrowing as she reassessed whatever conclusions she’d been drawing. “What classification of Symbiote are you bonded with?” She asked directly. “Actually, more importantly, it’s extremely rare to encounter two Symbiote hosts working together in close cooperation like you two are. Most hosts are territorial and competitive, especially when bonded to different parasite species. So how did you end up partnered? It’s quite odd…”

“What I find odd,” I countered, avoiding her question, “is discovering a Starakian hiding alone in a room on the thirteenth floor of the Whitesun Hotel in Atlantic City with only a mechanical pet for company. That seems like unusual behavior for a member of a supposedly advanced military civilization engaged in an active war.”

“Sonny is not just a mechanical pet!” Kunta snapped indignantly. “He’s a sophisticated combat AI with full tactical awareness and autonomous decision-making capabilities!”

Sonny’s optical sensors glowed brighter blue as it turned its attention toward me, and I swear the machine was glaring in response to my dismissive characterization.

Was the robot actually capable of taking offense on its own behalf? Or was it simply mirroring Kunta’s emotional state through some kind of empathic link?

“What’s your name?” Rachel asked, changing the subject and adopting a gentler tone as she approached her more carefully. “You look quite young for someone involved in military operations. How old are you?”

I suppressed a sigh as I recognized what was happening. Rachel’s protective big-sister instincts were apparently activating in response to her youthful appearance and obvious distress about her missing companion.

To be fair, she did appear to be roughly Rebecca’s age, maybe fifteen or sixteen by human developmental standards, though who knew how Starakian aging actually worked. Her frame was similarly slight and not fully developed into adult proportions. And she definitely seemed to share Rebecca’s tendency to lose her temper easily when challenged or insulted.

The similarities were actually kind of remarkable now that I was looking for them.

“Kunta,” the Starakian girl replied after a moment’s hesitation, apparently deciding that providing her name wouldn’t compromise security. “My name is Kunta.”

“And the person who came here with you, you mentioned his name is Zakthar?” I pressed, wanting to gather as much intelligence as possible while she seemed willing to talk.

Kunta nodded, and for the first time, genuine worry replaced the defensive hostility in her expression. “He told me to remain here in this secured location while he went to locate and capture the Dullahan host alone. I insisted on accompanying him, argued that I could provide valuable support, but he refused to listen to my objections.”

Her voice grew quieter, more vulnerable. “And now I haven’t received any communication from him since I woke up three days ago. I don’t know what happened to him, whether he succeeded in his mission, whether he’s injured or captured or… or worse. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

She trailed off, looking genuinely lost in a way that made her seem even younger and more out of her depth.

“Wait, three days, and you’ve chosen to just cower here in this hotel room the entire time?” I asked incredulously. “Aren’t you supposed to be a Starakian warrior or scout or whatever? Shouldn’t you be doing something proactive? You have that extremely dangerous dog with you, use it to search the area, gather intelligence, something other than just hiding and waiting?”

“I told you, Sonny is NOT a dog!” Kunta glared at me, reaching down to pat the mechanical construct’s head in what appeared to be a reassuring gesture.

Sonny responded by making a sound that was disturbingly similar to a contented purr, a low mechanical thrumming that emanated from somewhere in its chassis.

Did that robot just purr in response to being petted?

What the actual hell?

“And I was NOT cowering!” Kunta added even louder, as if that particular accusation was the most offensive part of my criticism. “When I insisted too strongly about accompanying Zak on his mission, he used a sedative compound on me without my knowledge or consent. I was unconscious when he left, and I only woke up three days ago. I expected to find him here waiting, but he never returned…”

“That still doesn’t explain why you haven’t attempted to search for him during the past three days,” I pointed out. “You’ve been conscious and mobile for seventy-two hours. That’s plenty of time to at least scout the area.”

“Are you perhaps hiding from other Starakians?” Rachel was the one who asked the more perceptive question. “Is there a reason you can’t or won’t contact your own people for assistance?”

Kunta visibly flinched in response to the question, her entire body going rigid.

Looks like Rachel had scored a direct hit on the truth.

“W..We disobeyed direct orders by coming here,” Kunta said reluctantly. “Command told us explicitly that someone else had been assigned the mission of capturing the Dullahan host operating in this region, and that Zakthar and I were not authorized to involve ourselves. We were supposed to remain at our assigned patrol zone and await further instructions.”

She looked away, clearly ashamed. “But Zakthar had located the Dullahan host’s approximate position, and he chose to pursue the target anyway despite the direct prohibition. He said the opportunity was too valuable to waste, that capturing a Class-S Symbiote host would justify the insubordination.”

Kunta’s voice grew even quieter. “I think approximately three months have passed since we first arrived in this city and began our unauthorized operation. I don’t know what’s happened here during that time, whether our absence has been noticed, whether we’ve been declared deserters or traitors…”

“Wait, hold on,” I interrupted, my mind catching on a critical detail. “You came to Atlantic City three months ago? You’re saying you’ve been operating in this area since before we even arrived?”

“Yes,” Kunta confirmed with a nod. “Zakthar traced the Dullahan host’s energy signature to this city approximately three months ago, and we’ve been conducting surveillance and preparation since then.”

Something was wrong with that timeline.

I was the Host of Dullahan, I mean the main vessel containing the Class-S Symbiote’s consciousness and power. I’d been bonded with Dullahan for months now, yes, but three months ago I’d been nowhere near Atlantic City. I was in Jackson Township very likely.

So why had Zakthar come here specifically?

Then understanding crashed over me as the pieces suddenly connected.

My eyes widened as my mind reached the answer.

Emily.

They must have confused Emily as Dullahan’s host rather than recognizing me.

Emily had been in Atlantic City for months possibly after leaving New York with Tommy and the others, long enough that her presence would have been detectable to anyone scanning for Symbiote energy signatures. And she carried a fragment of Dullahan’s power that I’d transferred to her, enough that she might register as a host to external observers who didn’t understand the nuances of how the symbiote had distributed itself.

Zakthar had come hunting for ’the Dullahan host’ and had found Emily’s signature instead of mine.

Which meant Emily might currently be in active danger from a Starakian warrior who’d been hunting her for three months.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

This situation had just gotten significantly more complicated.

But wait, there was something else amiss.

“Hold on a second,” I said, confused. “You’re telling me that you came to Atlantic City three months ago, and before Zakthar left on his mission, he put you to sleep to prevent you from following him… and you only woke up three days ago?”

I stared at her incredulously as the math processed in my head.

She’d been unconscious for nearly three entire months?

Did he drug her with something Starakian?

Kunta’s grayish-white skin darkened noticeably with what appeared to be embarrassment as she looked away, refusing to meet my eyes.

She was definitely hiding something significant, and I was becoming increasingly certain it had to do with the poor state of this hotel room. Now that I was paying closer attention to the details rather than focusing solely on the alien device, I could see clear signs of violence and chaos throughout the space.

The windows were completely shattered, but not from the recent loud sound that had drawn us here, judging by the weathering and debris patterns. This damage was weeks old, maybe even a month or more. Furniture had been overturned and scattered. Scorch marks marred the walls in several places. Deep gouges that looked like claw marks or blade strikes scarred the floor and ceiling.

Something intense had happened in this room, and Kunta was avoiding explaining what.

What had she actually been doing here during those three months? Had she really been unconscious the entire time, or was that a convenient lie to cover up activities she didn’t want to discuss?

Regardless of the gaps in her story, the core facts seemed relatively clear: she claimed to have been knocked unconscious by Zakthar until waking three days ago. Since regaining consciousness, she’d been worried about her missing companion but didn’t know how to reach out to him without risking being discovered by other Starakians—specifically the one who’d been officially tasked with capturing me.

Which meant there were potentially two different Starakians operating in Atlantic City right now. One unauthorized and missing, one officially sanctioned and presumably still actively hunting.

What the actual hell had this city become? A covert battleground for competing alien interests?

But despite the disturbing implications, I felt a measure of relief settling over me.

Because I’d seen Emily just yesterday, alive, albeit clearly not mentally well. She hadn’t been captured or seriously injured by this Zakthar person despite allegedly being hunted for three months. Whatever encounters might have occurred between them, she’d apparently survived them intact.

But that raised an entirely new question: what had happened to Zakthar?

Had Emily killed him when he’d attempted to capture her? She certainly possessed the capability, especially if her Dullahan fragment had fully activated and she’d lost control. An unstable host in a berserker state could absolutely take down a Starakian warrior who wasn’t prepared for that level of ferocity.

There were too many unanswered questions multiplying faster than I could process them.

“What exactly do you intend to do with Dullahan’s host once you locate them?” I asked Kunta directly, deciding to probe her actual intentions rather than making assumptions.

“Capture or kill them,” she replied instantly, as if this was the most obvious answer in the world. “Depending on circumstances and whether capture proves feasible.”

“Is that how you people operate?” I asked, unable to keep the disgust from my voice as I glared at her. “We hosts have been dragged into this conflict against our will. We aren’t responsible for whatever the Symbiote species did to your people centuries or millennia ago. We’re innocent victims caught in the crossfire of your ancient war.”

Kunta’s expression shifted slightly, becoming less certain and more conflicted. “Zakthar’s main objective was to capture the host alive in order to extract Dullahan from her body…” She said quietly, her voice losing some of its earlier confidence and becoming almost meek.

Was such a thing even possible? Could a Symbiote be forcibly removed from a living host?

“And then what?” I pressed. “After you extract the Symbiote, the host gets released unharmed? They get to walk away and resume a normal life?”

Kunta fell completely silent at my question, her gaze dropping to the floor.

That silence told me everything I needed to know, but I wanted to hear her say it out loud.

I took several steps toward her, my expression hardening. “Answer me.”

“A host who has their Symbiote forcefully extracted rarely survives the ordeal,” she finally said. “The bonding process creates dependencies—biological, neurological, sometimes even spiritual. Severing that connection violently causes catastrophic system failures in most cases. Survival rate is… extremely low.”

“You people really are exactly as terrible as I expected,” I said, and I genuinely wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Worse, actually, because at least open enemies don’t pretend to be protecting the people they’re killing.”

“You don’t understand anything!” Kunta snapped back, her voice rising defensively as she glared at me. “We ARE trying to protect your world by capturing Dullahan! He’s classified as Class-S for a reason—he’s ruthless, unpredictable, and one of the single most dangerous Symbiotes in existence! If he achieves full manifestation or decides to stop hiding, he could destroy entire cities! We’re trying to prevent that catastrophe!”

“I couldn’t care less about your justifications,” I said coldly. “I won’t let you touch me or any of the people I care about under your false pretense of caring about humanity’s welfare. Because ultimately, your ’protection’ ends with us dead anyway. You’re just killing us more slowly and calling it mercy.”

“Ryan…” Rachel’s voice came from behind me as she grasped my arm gently, her touch showing concern about how far I was pushing this confrontation.

I glanced back at her briefly, seeing the worry in her expression, before returning my attention to Kunta.

The Starakian girl was keeping her gaze averted from mine now, biting her lower lip in what appeared to be genuine distress rather than just anger.

“Leave this hotel immediately,” I said. “I want you, your mechanical dog, and that alien device gone from here by tomorrow morning. Pack up whatever you need and find somewhere else to hide.”

“Otherwise what?” Kunta’s voice rang out behind me, stopping me mid-turn.

I looked back at her over my shoulder.

She wasn’t even attempting to maintain a tough or defiant front anymore. The question had been asked with genuine uncertainty, almost vulnerability, like she was actually asking what consequences she should expect.

“Otherwise, I will personally drag whatever other Starakian you’re so afraid of directly to this hotel using whatever means are necessary,” I threatened. “I’ll make sure they know exactly where you’ve been hiding and what you’ve been doing. I’ll hand you over personally if that’s what it takes to remove you from this location.”

Kunta visibly flinched at the threat, her entire body going rigid with fear.

The reaction told me that whoever the officially-assigned Starakian operative was, Kunta was genuinely terrified of being discovered by them. Whether that fear stemmed from punishment for desertion, consequences for mission failure, or something else entirely, I neither knew nor particularly cared.

I simply turned and walked toward the door without waiting for any response, and Rachel followed close behind me.

Obviously, my threat had been completely empty, pure bluff with no substance behind it.

The absolute last thing I actually wanted was to bring another hostile Starakian to the hotel where we were trying to establish a safe settlement for sixty vulnerable people. That would be catastrophically stupid and counterproductive.

But I wanted Kunta gone. I wanted her and her dangerous technology and her missing companion’s mission all far away from this location before Margaret’s community moved in.

I understood on some level that she was different from the Starakians who’d chosen to actively participate in Earth’s invasion and genocide. She seemed conflicted about her role, genuinely worried about her companion, maybe even somewhat sympathetic to humanity’s plight despite her species loyalty.

But she also wasn’t better than the others. She’d still come here to capture or kill a human host, knowing full well that either outcome would likely result in that person’s death. She’d still participated in the war effort, still followed orders from the regime responsible for billions of human deaths.

And I simply didn’t want to deal with her or the complications her presence represented.

We had enough problems already without adding ’harboring a fugitive alien soldier’ to the list.

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