Page 16

VAREK

S parks rained down from the control room ceiling, adding a strobing effect to the already chaotic scene. The water around my ankles sloshed with each movement, threatening my balance as I leaned against a support pillar. My injured side burned, but I kept my face impassive. Warriors did not show pain.

Rivera worked frantically at the main console, her fingers dancing across the ancient interface with surprising skill. Through our newfound connection, I felt her mounting anxiety, a sharp metallic taste that mingled with my own concern. The systems fluctuated wildly under Hammond's remote assault, and alarms shrieked through the chamber, their pitch rising and falling like wounded animals.

A particularly violent surge sent her stumbling back, silver markings flaring across her skin in response. Her panic spiked through our bond, sharp and acrid.

"Damn it!" She slammed her palm against the console edge. "He's bypassing the security protocols faster than I can rebuild them."

I pushed off from the pillar, ignoring the hot lance of pain that shot through my side. My people's survival—her people's survival—depended on our success here. Failure meant destruction on a scale unseen since the Great Division.

I moved behind her, close enough that my presence filled her peripheral vision. Not touching, but present. Solid.

"Breathe, Rivera." The name still felt slightly foreign, but necessary. "Focus the energy flow. You control it."

She shot me a quick, desperate glance. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one trying to outthink a paranoid military commander with a god complex."

"No. But I know something about focus under pressure." I closed my eyes briefly, drawing on the disciplines taught to every Nyxari warrior from childhood. Through our bond, I projected the rhythm—inhale for four beats, hold for seven, exhale for eight.

Feel the rhythm. Match it.

My hand found her shoulder, a light touch meant to ground her in the chaos. The contact sent a warm current through my lifelines, golden light pulsing beneath my skin in response.

"The system responds to intention as much as technique," I said, keeping my voice low and steady. "Like a hunting bow. Pull too hard, and the string snaps. Too soft, and the arrow falls short."

She inhaled deeply, following the pattern I'd shared. Her silver markings calmed from their erratic flashing to a steady glow.

"Right. Okay." She straightened, rolling her shoulders back. "Let's try something different."

I kept my hand on her shoulder, anchoring her while she worked. The pain in my side faded to background noise as I focused entirely on supporting her. She needed my strength. I needed her skill. Without both, we would fail.

Another alarm blared, this one more ominous than the others.

"What is that?" I asked, scanning the chamber for new threats.

"Hammond's trying to override the primary cooling systems." Her fingers raced across the interface. "If he succeeds, the whole facility will go into meltdown."

"Can you stop him?"

Rivera looked up at me, determination hardening her features. "With your help, yes."

The water had risen to our calves, carrying bits of debris that swirled around our legs. The lights flickered violently, plunging us into darkness for heart-stopping seconds before sputtering back to life.

Rivera's focus had sharpened to laser precision, her earlier panic replaced by methodical efficiency. I stood beside her now, one hand on the console, channeling energy from my lifelines into the archaic system at her direction.

"He's trying a recursive loop on quadrant gamma," she said, not looking up from her work. "Need to isolate the node!"

I shifted my hand to a different section of the console, wincing as the energy draw pulled at my injured side. "Here?"

"Perfect. Hold it steady."

Our rhythm had become seamless, as if we'd trained together for years rather than hours. Through our bond, I sensed her technical assessments, translating them into action almost before she voiced them.

"That relay sparking near you!" She pointed to the junction box on the wall behind me, its casing emitting angry blue flashes. "Need to overload it! Now!"

I moved without hesitation, crossing the flooded floor and placing both hands on the junction. Pain shot up my arms as I channeled a surge of energy through my lifelines into the archaic circuitry. The box shuddered, then stabilized, its lights shifting from erratic blue to a steady green.

"Got it!" Rivera called. "Hammond's locked out of that sector. He'll need at least twenty minutes to find another access point."

I returned to her side, studying the readouts over her shoulder. The chaos of data streams made little sense to me, but I trusted her interpretation implicitly. Strange, how quickly that trust had formed between us.

"The core stabilizers are responding," I noted, recognizing the pattern from earlier.

"Good eye." She glanced up, surprise and approval mingling in her expression. "You're learning fast."

"I have a good teacher."

A new alert flashed across the screen, and Rivera cursed under her breath. "He's launching a major intrusion through the backup systems. If he gets through?—"

"What do you need?"

She met my eyes. "Both of us. Same time. Different consoles."

I moved to the secondary station, placing my hands where she indicated. The pain from my burn faded to background noise as I focused entirely on the task.

Now! Her mental command came sharp and clear.

I pushed a surge of energy through the console, feeling her doing the same across the room. Our energies met somewhere in the system's architecture, silver and gold intertwining, forming a barrier that Hammond's intrusion crashed against and dispersed.

The console lights stabilized, shifting from angry red to cautious yellow. Rivera looked across at me, a grim smile of triumph lifting the corner of her mouth. I returned the look with a slight nod.

It amazed me how efficiently we worked together. It was like we shared one mind, anticipating each other's needs before they arose. The bond between us had become not just a connection but a tool, necessary and powerful.

I watched her work, this human engineer fighting so fiercely to save both our peoples. Not long ago, I'd seen humans only as dangerous interlopers, their curiosity a threat to the careful balance my people maintained. Now I saw her—Rivera—as a competent, adaptable partner.

We can do this.

The console readings had stabilized, indicators shifting toward green for the first time since we'd entered the control room. Hammond's latest intrusion attempt had been thoroughly rebuffed, buying us precious time to shore up the systems.

I leaned against the console, finally allowing myself to check the burn on my side. The skin looked angry and blistered, but the damage hadn't spread. Painful, but manageable.

Rivera wiped sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, leaving a smudge of grime across her skin. The water continued swirling around us, carrying small pieces of debris. In the distance, the structure groaned, reminding us of our precarious situation.

"You didn't have to do that," she said quietly.

"Do what?"

"Risk yourself. With the junction box." She gestured to my injured side. "You're already hurt, and that could have made it worse."

I straightened, meeting her gaze directly. "It needed to be done."

"Still." She looked away, then back, something vulnerable in her expression. "Thank you. For the support. For staying calm when I was losing it."

"Your control of the interface..." I paused, my voice strained from the exertion and smoke inhalation. "Remarkable, Rivera."

She stilled at my use of her name, silver markings pulsing once along her collarbone. She studied me across the console, something shifting in her expression. A decision being made.

"You know..." Her voice softened, a slight tremor betraying her nervousness. "Rivera isn't... My first name is Becca."

I went completely still. Among my people, true names held power, shared only with family and those closest to you. I didn't know if humans held the same traditions, but the weight of her offering was clear in her tentative tone, the vulnerability in her eyes.

My lifelines pulsed visibly along my neck and arms as I processed this gift. I met her gaze, searching her face, seeing past the grime and exhaustion to the person beneath—the woman who had fought beside me, challenged me, saved me.

I nodded slowly, deliberately. "Becca," I repeated, my voice low and rough, tasting the unfamiliar syllables. The name felt right, like a missing piece sliding into place.

Relief washed across her face, transmitted through our bond like a cool breeze. She'd offered me something precious, and I had accepted it.

"Just don't wear it out," she said, attempting lightness but not quite masking the significance of the moment.

"I will honor it," I promised, more formally than I'd intended.

She ducked her head, but not before I caught the slight curve of her lips. "Good. Because we still have work to do."

This was no longer just about duty or survival. She had given me her name—her human self—and I would protect it, protect her, with everything I had.

Becca. I repeated it in my mind, filing it carefully away like a treasure. The name fit her perfectly—direct and strong, yet with a softness at its edges.

Through our shared bond, I felt her heart racing, the vulnerability of her offering and the relief at my acceptance. She hadn't been certain I would understand the significance, but she'd offered it anyway. Trust earned through fire and danger.

Another alarm sounded, this one more distant but no less urgent. Rivera— Becca —straightened, her focus returning to the task at hand.

"Ready for round two?" she asked.

I moved away from the console, ignoring the pain in my side. "Always."