Page 19

T he perimeter fence hummed with energy, its shield a barely visible shimmer against the night sky. The sound vibrated through my teeth, a high-pitched whine just at the edge of human hearing.

I pressed myself against the rough exterior wall of the compound, counting seconds as I waited for Ravik’s diversion. The metal was cool against my back, patched with mismatched salvage from The Seraphyne.

The junction box sat ten meters away, its access panel glowing faintly with status lights—green, amber, red—a simplistic display for a complex system. Through our bond, I felt Ravik’s steady presence, his focus, then a spike of tension followed by satisfaction.

The diversion was set. I began counting down, each second precise in my mind—my internal clock had always been accurate, a gift for engineering work.

When the explosion came, it was far larger than we’d anticipated. The ground beneath my feet trembled, sending small stones skittering down the wall.

A brilliant flash lit up the sky above the drilling operation, followed by a thunderous boom that I felt in my chest cavity. The shock wave hit seconds later, carrying the scent of burning insulation and superheated metal.

Perfect. I sprinted to the junction box, my feet finding secure purchase despite the uneven ground, my fingers already reaching for the tools in my pocket.

The box’s security latch yielded easily to the pry bar, the metal groaning in protest. Inside was a mess of salvaged technology—Hammond’s people had cobbled together components from the ship with ancient tech scavenged from the ruins.

Exposed circuitry glowed with blue-green energy, conduits pulsing with power. Normally, this would require specialized equipment to bypass, but my markings gave me another option.

I took a deep breath, the air tasting of ozone and smoke from the distant explosion. In the compound behind me, alarms wailed and voices shouted orders.

I placed my palms directly against the main power conduits. The metal was warm, vibrating subtly with contained energy.

The reaction was immediate—pain lanced up my arms as my markings interfaced with the energy flow. The sensation was like plunging my hands into electrical current while simultaneously having information injected directly into my brain.

I bit my lip to keep from crying out as data flooded my consciousness. Shield configuration. Security protocols. Override commands.

The data streamed directly into my mind, my markings translating the energy patterns into something I could understand. The silver lines beneath my skin spread visibly, crawling up my arms like growing circuitry, branching and connecting in new patterns.

I’d never attempted to interface with a system this complex before, but we had no choice. Sweat beaded on my forehead, running down my temples.

My heart hammered against my ribs, too fast, too hard. I sensed Ravik had reached the rendezvous point through the bond.

His concern flickered at the edges of my awareness, but I pushed it aside, focusing entirely on the task. The junction box’s components became extensions of myself, my consciousness expanding into the system.

“Override sequence,” I whispered, my fingers dancing across the control pad as I input commands. My voice sounded distant, disconnected from my body.

“Security protocol delta-nine-six...” The glyphs and symbols in my mind translated to keystrokes and adjustments, my engineer’s understanding merging with the marking’s intuitive interface.

The system resisted, sending a surge of energy back through my connection. Pain exploded behind my eyes, a white-hot pressure that threatened to split my skull.

My vision flickered, static creeping in at the edges. Still, I pushed harder, forcing my way through its defenses.

The silver beneath my skin spread further up my arms and over my chest as they absorbed more energy. “Almost there,” I gasped, feeling something building within the system—and within me.

Too much power, channeling directly through my body. The taste of metal flooded my mouth, my own blood from biting my lip too hard.

The smell of burning circuitry filled my nostrils, though whether from the junction box or my own overloading markings, I couldn’t tell. A final command sequence, and I felt the shield section beginning to fail.

The shimmer in the air flickered, dimmed, then disappeared entirely along a ten-meter stretch. But the backlash was immediate and overwhelming.

Energy surged through my markings, up my arms, directly into my brain. My vision flashed white, then gray, then... nothing.

Darkness. Complete and absolute. No shadows, no shapes, no hints of light.

I staggered back from the junction box, disoriented by the sudden blindness. My foot caught on uneven ground, and I nearly fell.

The world tilted sickeningly, my equilibrium failing without visual reference points. I stretched my hands out, seeking something solid.

“Ravik?” I called through our bond, panic rising as I waved my hands in front of my face and saw nothing. Cold sweat covered my skin, my heart racing too fast, too erratic.

“Status?” The shield was down—I could feel the absence of its energy field, a change in the atmospheric pressure against my skin—but I couldn’t see it.

Couldn’t see anything. My legs gave way, and I collapsed near the junction box, fighting to stay conscious as pain radiated through my entire body.

The ground was hard beneath me, stones digging into my palms as I caught myself. The interface had cost me my sight.

How temporary, I couldn’t know. But we had minutes, perhaps seconds, before someone noticed the shield failure.

I forced myself to my knees, then to my feet, one hand against the wall for orientation. The rough texture of the compound’s exterior helped ground me as dizziness threatened to send me back to the ground.

Though blind, my other senses sharpened in compensation. The night air carried scents I hadn’t noticed before—the mineral tang of nearby rocks, the faint organic smell of native vegetation beyond the perimeter, the distinct odor of burning from the explosion site.

Sounds reached me with new clarity—footsteps running within the compound, the hiss of emergency suppressant systems, someone shouting orders two hundred meters to my left. Most distinctly, I felt energy patterns through my markings.

Not visual, but a kind of spatial awareness—concentrations of power, active systems, even the subtle differentials of the terrain ahead. The data came as impressions, intuitive rather than analytical, but usable.

“Ravik,” I called again through our bond, pushing through the pain to send my location. The connection felt stronger now, perhaps from necessity.

“I can’t see.” His response came not in words but in a wave of concern followed by determination.

He was coming for me. I just had to stay upright, stay conscious until he arrived.

The sounds of the compound in chaos helped orient me—alarms blaring, shouted orders, running footsteps. None close yet, but they would be soon.

I stumbled forward, following the wall, hoping I was moving toward our planned exit point. Without vision, each step was a nauseating challenge.

My hand along the wall was my only guide, the texture changing beneath my fingertips—metal to stone, smooth to rough. The bond was my lifeline, Ravik’s presence growing stronger as he approached.

A hand gripped my arm, and I nearly struck out before recognizing the familiar energy signature through our bond. Ravik.

His touch sent a surge of connection through our bond, his concern hitting me in a wave, followed by grim determination. The smell of him—mountain stone and that distinct Nyxari scent—was instantly recognizable, comforting despite our dire situation.

“Shield down,” I managed to say, my voice strained. Pain still radiated from my markings, which continued to absorb energy.

“But I can’t—” “I know,” he replied, his voice low and tight.

His hand moved to my upper back, the touch both supportive and guiding. “Can you move?”

“Yes.” A lie, but what choice did we have?

The darkness was absolute, disorienting, but I refused to be a liability. “Lead the way.”

His hand shifted on my back, guiding me forward as the compound’s alarms continued to wail around us. Each step was agony, my body still processing the energy overload, but the alternative was capture—or worse.

Hammond’s “decontamination” procedures for marked women were the stuff of nightmares. “Three steps clear,” Ravik murmured, his voice and the bond our lifeline in my darkness.

“Guard left!” I followed his guidance blindly, literally, as we moved toward freedom and the dangerous wilderness beyond.

The ground changed beneath my feet—concrete to packed earth, then to the rockier terrain outside the compound’s immediate perimeter. The night air grew cooler against my face as we moved away from the compound’s heat signature.

My markings became a different kind of sense—like a radar system detecting obstacles before I reached them. Without sight, every other sense became crucial to survival.

And with Ravik’s steady presence beside me, we might just make it.