PROJECT: CAYRO

Star Zaraki:

September 8, 2025

09:00 CST

Zaraki Mansion

Cedar Rapids IA.

I stood staring at the portrait of my mother, the silence in my father’s office weighing heavily on me. But inside my head, it was anything but silent. Thoughts ricocheted off the walls of my mind, each one amplifying the static noise that seemed to pulse in time with the pounding headache I’d had for the last day and a half. They say time heals all wounds, but if that were true, why did it still hurt so much? Betrayal clawed at my insides. My father spoke as if I were the most important thing in his world, yet he left me on the Autumn, visiting only on rare occasions, keeping the truth of what I am hidden from me. He built a life, a future, outside of mine, and left me out of it.

For years, I believed he was in hiding, searching for the C Drive to make me whole. But in the end, it was Cayro who found the drive, stashed away in an old book. It was Cayro who was there when my world collapsed, who stayed with me when I was kidnapped, who listened when I needed someone to talk to. The Captain and Mrs. Tiffany were the ones who caught me when I fell and taught me to stand back up. Nathan and Desiree showed me how to use my mind to solve problems and turn wrenches. Nick helped me with math and science. Casey taught me how to fly, while John taught me how to shoot and fight. The crew was my real family. They were there when I needed them. For twelve years, they took care of me, shaped me into who I am today.

But this place, this house my father calls home and expects me to call home, feels like a cold, empty maze. The sorrow in the air is almost tangible, a reflection of the longing and sadness he feels. And that’s what I can’t understand. If I were so important to him, why didn’t he raise me? The question echoed in my mind, relentless. This house—this place—it wasn’t home. It was a nightmare. There was no smell of grease or oil, no chatter, no sound of cooking. The familiar hum of generators and thrusters was absent. The ocean, with its endless horizon and salty air, was gone. All of it was gone.

If there was a God out there, why would He condemn me to a life like this? What purpose could there be for a monster like me? I looked down at my clawed hand, at the sharp talons and the iridescent black scales that shifted colors in the light. Who could ever love something like this? How could the crew—my family—accept me now? I wished I could ask my mother, but all I had were photos and this giant portrait. Would she have loved me, even though I was a monster like my father?

Throughout the night, I lost control of my ability to shift forms. Now, I was stuck in this monstrous shape. Was this my true form? Or was it the human face I wore before? Whenever I tried to shift back, I hit a mental wall, a barrier I couldn’t break through. It was driving me deeper into despair.

I walked over to the chair my mother sat in within the portrait and sank into it. I wanted to cry, but I had no tears left, just dry streaks on my face. Cayro had been there for me, holding me while I wept, watching over me without a word. He was finally asleep after staying up for two days straight, making sure I was okay. Once he drifted off, I slipped out of our room and came here, hoping that my mother’s portrait might bring me some comfort. But it didn’t.

The two people I needed to talk to were stuck on the Autumn somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Then, a thought struck me.

“Scuzball?” I whispered, my voice cracking.

It took a minute for him to respond, but finally, I heard his voice inside my head through my implant.

“Yes, Star?” he replied, his voice louder than I had expected, making me cringe as a spike of pain shot through my already pounding headache.

“Volume down, please!” I begged, hissing through the discomfort.

“My apologies, Star,” he responded, this time in a softer tone.

“Thank you, much better,” I sighed in relief.

“How may I help you?” he queried, his tone patient and understanding.

“Can you connect with the Autumn? Specifically with Tiffany or the Captain?” I asked, my voice carrying a hint of desperation.

“Of course. Give me a moment to set up a secure connection,” he answered before going silent.

As I waited, I looked down at my claws, anxiety gnawing at me. What would I even say? Would they see me differently now? It hadn’t even been a minute when Tiffany’s voice came through my implant, cutting through my thoughts.

“Honey, are you there?” she asked gently.

The sound of her voice caused a lump to form in my throat, warmth spreading through my body, momentarily staving off the darkness threatening to consume me.

“M… mom?” I stammered, my voice trembling as my body began to shake, my fragile mental state threatening to crack once again. I struggled to hold back the tears that welled up, threatening to spill over.

“Yes, Baby Girl, it’s me. Are you okay?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

“Not really,” I managed, my voice still shaky, barely holding it together.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone patient and soothing.

“Am I a monster?” I whispered, forcing the words out through the thick fog of my emotions.

“No, not at all, Star. You are not a monster. You are a wonderful, strong girl who has grown into an equally wonderful, strong woman,” she said with a firmness that left no room for doubt.

“But I feel like I am now that my augmentation is completed,” I confessed, the weight of the past few days pressing down on me.

“Sweetheart, no matter how much you have physically changed, you aren’t a monster. A monster is someone who lacks a heart, someone who does evil things without caring about what is right or wrong. That’s not who you are. We raised you with a strong moral compass, and you’ve always shown that you know the difference between right and wrong. You’ve used your morals to make good, smart decisions. Your physical appearance doesn’t make you a monster, and no matter how you look, we will always love you,” she said, her voice calm and soothing, washing over me like a balm.

As her words settled in, I felt the heaviness in my heart begin to lift. A clear image of my human form appeared in my mind, standing with arms open in acceptance. My inner self moved toward that image, and as the two forms embraced in my mind, a voice echoed within me: “We are one and the same. One cannot be without the other.” When I opened my eyes, I saw that my hands and the rest of my body had returned to my normal human form. The words resonated deeply, anchoring me.

“Sweetheart, are you still there?” Tiffany’s voice broke through, tinged with worry.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied quickly, my voice steadier now.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, concern still evident.

“Yes, I was just thinking about what you said,” I explained, feeling a warmth in my chest that hadn’t been there before.

“Oh, alright. I’m glad to hear that,” she replied, her tone cheerful and light.

Hearing her voice like that, so full of warmth and life, brought a smile to my face. I hadn’t heard it since I was kidnapped, and it eased a tension I didn’t realize I was holding. As I sat there, a question that had been simmering at the back of my mind finally bubbled to the surface, demanding an answer.

“Mom? Is Dr. Zaraki evil?” I asked quietly, the question barely escaping my lips.

There was a moment of silence before she responded.

“Yes and no, to be honest with you, Star. Your father lives in a world shrouded in secrets and mysteries that even I don’t fully understand. What I do know is that he has made some difficult and, at times, morally ambiguous decisions—choices that could easily be seen as evil. But those decisions came from a place of love and protection. That’s about all I can say. If you want to truly understand, you’ll have to ask him yourself,” she explained, her voice tinged with the weight of hard-earned wisdom.

I took a moment to absorb her response, letting it settle in my mind before daring to ask the question that had haunted me the most.

“Why didn’t he raise me himself?” The words came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t help it. I needed to know, more than anything else.

“Ah… You’re still angry at him, aren’t you?” she asked quietly, her voice gentle yet probing.

“Yes,” I answered quickly, without hesitation.

“I can understand that, especially since you don’t have all the information and don’t understand why he left you with us. Listen carefully, Star. I can tell you with absolute certainty that your father loves you deeply. You may not see it, but he does. As I said before, he lives in a world filled with shadows and mysteries, a world that has shaped him for a very long time. When he met your mother, he tried to leave that world behind, but it wasn’t that simple. That world is what got your mother and Cayro’s mother killed. It’s what caused the injuries I carry to this day. After that, he had to make a choice: risk raising you himself and potentially losing you the way he lost your mother, or find someone who could raise you in safety and love, away from that danger. In your case, he made the right decision.”

She paused, allowing the weight of her words to sink in before continuing. “From your perspective, it feels like abandonment. But that’s far from the truth. What you don’t see are the countless ways he has been there for you, even from afar. The first and most significant is the Autumn—Andrew and I don’t own it. You and Cayro do. It’s part of a trust your father set up when you came to live with us. He ensured that you would always have a home, one that even the government couldn’t take from you. Have you ever noticed that whenever you wanted or needed something, it was always provided? None of it came out of your earnings. Your schooling, your tutors, most of your clothes—all handpicked or bought by your father. He kept in constant contact with us, always asking what you liked, what you needed, making sure you were taken care of in every possible way,” she explained, filling in the gaps that had plagued me for so long.

The pieces were finally beginning to fit together. My father didn’t raise me because he didn’t want to expose me to the two conflicting worlds he inhabited. He wasn’t ready for me to be a part of that darker world. As I took a deep breath and let it out, I felt a small sense of peace start to settle in. I was beginning to understand who my father really was.

“Thank you, Mom. I needed to hear that,” I said softly, the weight of my anger starting to lift.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. It was time for you to know,” she replied with a warmth that wrapped around me like a comforting blanket.

“I’m going to go now. I need time to think things through,” I said, the need for solitude pulling at me.

“Alright, sweetheart. And tell Cayro I said hello,” she added with a hint of a smile in her voice.

“I will, Mom,” I promised before disconnecting the call.

Standing up from the chair, I walked back to my room, my bare feet padding softly against the cold floor. When I reached the room, I found Cayro exactly where I’d left him, sprawled out on his back, his arms and legs spread like a starfish as he softly snored. I carefully climbed onto the bed and stretched out along his body, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath me. As I gazed down at him, everything Tiffany had said echoed in my mind. The anger and resentment toward my father were still there, but now, I understood his choices a little better. Leaning down, I gently kissed the man I was falling in love with and silently vowed that I would be there for my child, should we ever decide to have one, no matter what.