Page 12

Chapter twelve

Crisis

O ne Month Later

“I just want you to know that I’ll carry you to medical when you fall,” Petre said, watching Rowen balance on a stack of supply crates. She stretched higher, reaching for the rogue vine that had somehow wound its way into the environmental control sensors. The afternoon sun warmed her back, the curling strands of hair escaping her twist to stick to the sweat trickling down her neck. “And I promise I’ll only say ‘I told you so’ once. Ok, maybe twice.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need your help,” she repeated, pulling a face at his bossiness, even though he couldn't see it. “Just need to… reach…” The crates wobbled beneath her, and she caught Petre tensing from the corner of her eye, ready to catch her. But she'd already grabbed the vine, its delicate tendrils curling around her fingers. “See? I got the little guy. I’ll return him to containment. You reset the environmentals and get some cool air happening. Then we can figure out how it bypassed the barriers we set around his section.” She patted the little vine, which shivered in delight. “You’re a persistent little thing, oh yes you are!” she cooed, and the vine twined around her thumb in response.

“Congratulations on not falling to your doom,” he said, in that dry tone that always made her want to laugh. Well, it used to, before he ruined everything. Now she just wanted to punch his stupid face. “We could have used the maintenance ladder. And not risked a workplace injury.”

“It would have taken longer.” She hopped down beside him. “And it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.”

His pale features were set in their usual serious expression, but she caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. The past month had been awkward. At first, it had been excruciating, both of them dancing around each other. But they'd gotten good at this new version of themselves, all shop talk, easy banter, and polite smiles, exactly the kind of colleagues they’d agreed on.

No gentle kisses, no passionate arguments, just bland interactions.

It was awful. On the plus side, it made it so much easier to hide that you thought your colleague might be spiraling into something dark and dangerous.

“Ah, yes, fun. ’Cause what’s more fun than a trip to medbay in your lunch hour?”

She made a face at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of agreeing. She hated his “reasonable” tone.

“If you're done climbing my construction materials like a thorncat,” a gruff voice called out, “perhaps you'd care to explain why these soil readings are off?”

Broken pointed at the analytics on the terminal display, showing yesterday's measurements. “The readings aren't off,” she said, moving closer. “We're adjusting the mineral balance to account for the hybridized plants.”

Petre came up beside her. “The latest hybrids needed the environmental systems recalibrated again. We’re working to Casti’s specs. I’ll help with the systems re-calibration after we finish the morning inspection. I need to swing by colony admin, anyway. I do have a day job, and I’ve been neglecting it with all the time spent on this project.”

Rowen nodded in agreement. “Alright, I’ll grab an early lunch then, so you can head off after the inspections.”

Broken watched them wide-eyed, his brow furrowed with concern. He hadn’t ventured to ask what was amiss. Well, at least not to Rowen, but the warrior was astute enough to sense that things had gone badly wrong between them. She might have said something, tried to allay his fears, but that would have been lying. Things had gone badly wrong, and no one could fix it.

She wandered out of the bio-dome and headed towards the small mess hall that had been set up for the construction crew at the site. Eventually, it would become a café and restaurant servicing the visitors to the site, but for now, it was basic. Pre-packaged meals were left in a cooler unit on one side, and a handful of workers were sitting at the tables dotted around the open space, a spectacular view down the gorge through the large plate windows.

She grabbed one, some kind of wrap, and weaved her way through the tables outside, making her way to her favorite perch on a rock overlooking the river below. She wasn’t sure why she kept coming here, the site of their first kiss. Perhaps she just enjoyed torturing herself.

She was just about to take a bite when a shadow fell over her.

“Mind if I join you?” Varian smiled down at her, pilot's jacket slung casually over one shoulder.

She nearly groaned. She really didn’t want company, and definitely not Varian. Instead, she made herself smile politely. “Of course.” She scooted over to make space for him.

She still wasn’t sure if she liked Varian. He had an effortless charm about him, none of the emotional jousting she'd grown used to with Petre. But she couldn’t quite disregard what had happened with the match on the Frost Pearl , or the certainty that he was behind it. And she was kind of weirded out by the odd puppyish adoration she could feel whenever Bylelle was around.

“I have a confession.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s never a great conversation opener.”

“Do you know how many lunch breaks I've spent casually walking past this spot, hoping to 'accidentally' run into you here?”

Rowen laughed, surprised by his candid admission. “That's… actually a little stalkerish.” She was only half-joking.

“I prefer to think of it as strategically persistent,” he replied. “Though in my defense, you have the best lunch spot in the colony. The view is stunning.” His eyes lingered on her face just a moment too long to be talking about the scenery.

“Subtle,” she said dryly, but felt her cheeks warm slightly.

“It’s never been my strong suit.” He shrugged, unrepentant. “I heard that there’s a new restaurant opening in the entertainment district. I thought maybe you'd like to try it? And after, if you're interested, maybe I could take you for a ride in the flyer. See some atmospheric anomalies.”

Rowen paused with the wrap halfway to her mouth. “Are you asking me on a date? Again?”

“That was the general idea, yes.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Though I'm apparently doing a terrible job of it.”

Her first instinct was to say no. She liked him, kind of, but he was a little odd. And Petre hated him. Even with how she’d left things with Petre, she really didn’t think he’d take well to her going out with Varian.

On the other hand, maybe that was a good reason to do it. It was pretty petty, but maybe Petre deserved it. And there was a lot to be said for entertaining an attractive, intelligent male who actually seemed interested in pursuing her. No complications, just…normal courtship. What a shocking concept.

She examined him. “I’m not sure.”

“Why not?”

She cocked her head. “What’s the deal with you and Bylelle?”

Varian laughed. “Ah, I see. She is my Maman-Tul. I’ve been trained from my earliest years as her primary aide.”

Rowen frowned. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I sense…a lot of emotion between you.”

Varian nodded. “We’ve grown up together. I follow her lead. I owe her my respect and admiration.” He paused. “I get that this is different from your culture, but please understand, there is nothing romantic. I will never mate her; she is more like a sister.” Rowen extended her senses to him and found nothing but honesty. He genuinely believed what he was saying.

“What about the Frost Pearl ? Did she put you up to it?”

Varian grimaced. “Yes, but not the way it played out. She wanted to test Petre, see his fighting ability. I miscalculated with the bout, chose the wrong male to spar with him. It’s something I regret.”

Huh. Again, she extended her senses. Less truth there. He didn’t regret it entirely, but he was telling the truth about being unhappy that it got out of hand.

She considered him. He really was handsome, and he hadn’t lied or hidden anything when she asked. How much of her reluctance was actually because of him and his behavior, and how much was transferred from Petre and Bylelle? And it's not like anyone else is stepping up , a treacherous voice whispered in her head.

“Can I think about it?”

His smiled dimmed slightly. “Alright.” He paused. “Can I ask you a question in return?”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“Is it because of Petre? Is he the reason you won’t say yes?”

She considered lying, but it wasn’t in her nature. “Partly. Also I’m just not sure you and I would be the best fit.”

He shrugged. “Isn’t that what the date is meant to tell us?”

She laughed. “I suppose so.”

He stared out at the view, quiet for a moment. “I’m happy to wait until you’re ready. Consider it an open invitation.” He turned to meet her gaze. “But don’t wait for someone that doesn’t want you. We Verit, we’re not shy when we are interested. If he hasn’t declared his intentions, he’s not behaving honorably. You shouldn’t consider yourself bound to him.”

Rowen sighed. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

When she returned to work, Petre launched into a detailed analysis of the morning inspection, going through the mammoth list of corrections and issues that needed action. Rowen nodded absently, only half listening.

"Are you with me here, Rowen?"

She snapped her attention back. "Sorry, a bit distracted."

He studied her. "Something important?"

“No, nothing,” she lied.

He looked at her oddly, and his mouth quirked at the side. “You’re a terrible liar.” Her mind flashed her an image, him looking up at her as he teased her with his tongue, all passion and fire, before she squashed it. It was not helpful. “Did you want to talk about it?”

"No, I don’t think so.”

“I know things are weird with us, but I care about you. I want you to be happy.”

She glared at him. “You forfeited the right to know what’s going on with me." The statement hung between them; a door opened just a crack. She held his gaze steadily. "Unless you've somehow found the courage to stand up to Bylelle. To fight for what makes you happy rather than what keeps you safe."

He accepted the rebuke with a small nod, turning back to the terminal. The moment broke, leaving them once again on opposite sides of the chasm they'd created. Close enough to see each other, but too far to reach.

Boots thundered overhead, the harsh echoes jolting them both back to reality. “There you are!” Fila's voice rang out, followed by the sight of her dropping from the catwalk with lithe agility. “I thought I'd find you both buried in your garden.” She grinned at her own joke.

Petre muttered in disapproval, “This is a bio-lab, not a café you know. We can’t just have people wandering in whenever they feel like it.”

Rowen made a face at him. “Good afternoon, Fila!” she said pointedly.

“I’ve got twenty minutes before my first meeting with the Malurien construction team. Can you run me through the environmental systems configuration proposal for domes five and six again? I want to make sure I’ve got it down before I talk to them.” She was already moving to examine the display set up with the plans.

A loud crack from above cut her off, followed by the ominous sound of straining metal.

Rowen's head snapped up at the sound. Through the crystalline panels overhead, she could see one of the main support beams twisting at an impossible angle. Fine cracks were beginning to spider web across the nearest dome section.

“Move!” She grabbed Petre's arm, yanking him away from their workstation just as a shower of crystal shards rained down where they'd been standing. The main terminal sparked and went dark.

Fila was already in motion, activating her comm. “Emergency in horticulture construction main bio-dome. Structural failure in progress. Need immediate—”

Another crack, louder this time. The structure groaned, and Rowen's stunned brain finally kicked into gear. “The pressure differential,” she said, mind racing. “If that panel gives way completely—”

“The entire sector will decompress,” Petre finished. “We need to seal it off before—”

“No!” Rowen's fingers flew across her datapad, bringing up the environmental readings. “Look at these numbers. If we seal it now, it’ll collapse. That entire structure is compromised. Sealing it will just redirect the pressure onto the next damaged area, triggering a cascade failure. We need to stabilize it first.”

More shards fell around them. Petre grabbed her arm this time, pulling her under the shelter of a maintenance bot. “There's no time—”

“Trust me.” She met his eyes, willing him to understand. “I can do this, but I need three minutes. Fila, keep the emergency teams from sealing those panels. Petre, take three of the Falosian field generators and place them outside the dome, just beyond where the collapse is.” She looked at the damaged main terminal, then up to the catwalk. “I’ll need to access the internal field generator from the auxiliary terminal.”

She didn't wait for his response, already moving toward the maintenance ladder. Behind her, she heard Fila calling out orders, directing the emergency response.

The ladder vibrated under her hands as she climbed. More cracks appeared in the dome above her, but she forced herself to focus on the calculations running through her head. If she was wrong about this, she wasn't just risking her own life.

At the top, the catwalk swayed alarmingly.

“Rowen!” Petre's voice carried from below. “Whatever you're going to do—”

“Two minutes!” she yelled as she slid along the railing, stretching toward the auxiliary controls for the field generators. Her fingers found the access panel, yanking it open. The board inside was a maze. Standard procedure would be to shut everything down, seal off the sector. Safe, predictable, by the book.

But she hadn't spent months studying the integration of Verit, ancient alien, and Falosian engineering for nothing.

She activated the comm channel on her HUD and broadcast her instructions to anyone nearby with an open channel. “Realigning the north wall internal field generator,” she called down, voice steady despite her racing heart. “Petre, double check my calcs. I’m sending them to you now. I need you to prepare for a manual sync of the external and internal field generators. If the calcs are right, align them to this orientation and frequency now. On my mark.”

“That's not—” his voice responded in her ear. “You're going to create a self-regulating, counter-pressure bubble. That's insane. Our systems don’t work like that. It’s completely against—”

“Casti’s modifications can.” The metal creaked ominously under her feet. “Ready?”

A pause, then, “Ready. Generators aligned.”

Her hands moved quickly, reworking connections. If she could merge the two approaches…

Another sharp crack. Another piece of the crystalline panel twisted free, shooting past her head close enough that she felt the wind of its passage. Somewhere below, she heard Fila shouting evacuation orders.

“Now!” Rowen pushed her new configuration to the field emitters, praying she'd calculated correctly. “Hit it, Petre!”

For a horrible moment, nothing happened. Then she felt it—a subtle shift in the air, like pressure before a storm. The field emitters expanded the pressure bubble, supporting the weight of the broken dome and plugging the hole in the dome like a balloon. Twin field generators on the outside pushed against them, trapping the atmosphere inside and providing precisely balanced counterpressure.

The cracking sounds slowed, then stopped. She watched as the environmental conditions re-stabilized, held in place by the bubble on either side of the hole. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it would hold.

“Status?” Fila called up.

Rowen checked her readings. “Stabilized. We'll need to replace that entire section, but it won't collapse.” She looked down to find Petre staring up at her, his face pale and his eyes wide.

“That's incredible,” Fila called as the pressure bubble stabilized. “I've never seen environmental fields respond like that.”

“That,” he said slowly, “was either brilliant or insane.”

“Why can't it be both?” Rowen started her descent, legs wobbly as the adrenaline faded. “Although more accurately, it's alien. The pressure bubble is one of Casti’s design suggestions.” The words died in her throat as the catwalk gave a sickening lurch. The metal groaned a deep, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate through her bones. She had just enough time to think Oh, that's not good before the gantry collapsed.

The world spun, a kaleidoscope of crystal and steel. She glimpsed Petre's face, horror etched in stark lines, before everything went dark.

Consciousness came and went in fragments, like trying to catch smoke. Sound came first—voices raised in alarm, the thunder of running feet, and cutting through it all, a roar that made her sluggish mind try to place why a Dathalka would be in the bio-dome.

“…GET A HEALER…” The voice was Petre's, but wrong. Through half-lidded eyes, she saw him holding someone against the wall, his usual composure shattered. The feline aspects of his genetics were more pronounced—pupils contracted to slits, teeth bared in a snarl, claws rending the air.

“Petre!” Fila's voice barely penetrated the roaring in her ears. “The emergency team is two minutes out. Let him go.”

The world faded again, and when it returned, she was being lifted with impossible gentleness. Petre's scent wrapped around her. Cedar and barely contained fury. “Stay with me,” he murmured, so quietly she might have imagined it. “Please.”

She tried to tell him she was fine, but the darkness pulled her under again.

The medbay ceiling came into focus slowly, its familiar patterns resolving themselves. Her head still felt stuffed with cotton, and every muscle protested as she tried to move.

“Don't.” Petre's voice was raw, shredded. It sounded like he'd been screaming. Maybe he had. “The healer says you need to stay still.”

She rustily turned her head to find him sitting beside her bed, a wreck of his usual composed self. His hair was wild, escaping its usual neat tail in tangled strands that suggested he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His uniform jacket was gone, leaving him in a black jumpsuit that bore ragged dark stains. Dirt? Blood? His knuckles were scraped raw, and there were tears in his clothes that spoke of desperate scrambling over rough surfaces.

“What happened?”

“The gantry gave way.” His voice cracked on the last word. She watched him flex his hands, his claws partially extended, tiny tears in his pants legs where they'd pierced the fabric.

She licked her lips, tasting copper. “How… bad?”

He reached for her hand with a desperation that surprised her, even through the cotton wool of her mind. His fingers were shaking as they wrapped around hers. “Not that bad.” The lie in his voice was obvious even to her drug-addled brain. “Nothing that medbay can't fix. A few broken bones, lots of soft tissue damage. You'll be fine in a day or two.”

“The seedlings,” she managed, her voice rough. “Did any of them—”

“They're fine,” he said. “You saved them. You saved all of it.” He seemed to realize he was still clutching her hand and gently set it back on the covers. “Though next time, perhaps we could solve the crisis without you testing gravity?”

She managed a weak smile. “Where's the fun in that?”

She didn't see how he swayed slightly when she closed her eyes, as if struck. Didn't see how his hands trembled as he pushed his wild hair back from his face, leaving fresh streaks of dirt and blood across his forehead. Didn't see how he stood there, just watching her breathe.

Only when her breath evened out into sleep did he allow himself to sink back into the chair beside her, head dropping into his hands, his shoulders shaking with emotions he couldn't afford to name.

***

The antiseptic smell of medbay invaded Rowen's senses before she even opened her eyes. Her head felt stuffed with cotton, and every muscle carried the distinct ache of accelerated healing.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Fila's voice came from beside her. “You certainly know how to liven up a workday.”

Rowen turned her head, finding her friend perched in the visitor's chair with a datapad balanced on her knee. “How long was I out?”

“About six hours. The healers said you were lucky. Clean breaks, no complications, a fair bit of soft tissue damage. Though I think their definition of 'lucky' needs work.” Fila set aside her pad, leaning forward. “You scared us. Especially Petre.”

“What do you mean?”

“I've never seen anything like it.” Fila's voice dropped. “When you fell… it was like watching a demon from the old stories. He completely lost it. Threatened the security team, nearly took apart a medical tech for not moving fast enough. Lucius had to talk him down before he'd let anyone else near you.”

Rowen tried to reconcile this with her foggy memories of the accident. “That doesn't sound like Petre.”

“That's my point. It wasn't like him at all.” Fila shook her head. “Let's just say I understand now why the rest of the galaxy finds Verit males terrifying.”

Before Rowen could process this, the door slid open. Petre entered, every silver hair neatly in place.

“Good to see you awake,” he said, his voice steady. As if he hadn't nearly torn apart medical staff hours earlier. As if nothing had changed. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she said slowly. “Though I hear I missed quite a show.”

He stalked to her bed and took her hand again, gentle despite the tension coursing through him. “You nearly died. I keep telling you to be more careful, then you try to kill yourself in front of me.”

She huffed, “If this is your bedside manner, it sucks.”

“This is my ‘I won’t let you put yourself in harm's way again’ manner.” She smiled slightly. He leaned down close to her to whisper in her ear, his breath hot on her neck. “My heart cannot take it, Rowen.” He pressed his forehead against her shoulder, and she felt a shudder run through him. She gently raised a hand to stroke over his hair, and she felt him relax slightly into her, sinking to his knees next to the bed.

Fila met Rowen’s eyes in a shocked gaze over his shoulder and quietly stepped outside. They stayed there for long minutes, his face pressed to her shoulder as he processed the reality that she was alive.

“Why are you doing this, Petre? If you care so much, why stay away?”

He was quiet for another long moment. “Because I cannot lose you. I thought I would rather have you as a friend than watch you harmed as a lover, but...”

She reached up to touch his cheek. “And now?”

His gaze heated as he surged forward and pressed a trembling kiss to her forehead. “I find that I cannot let you out of my sight again.” He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, she saw bone-deep fear in his gaze, and a diamond-hard core of fury. “This is a terrible idea. This isn’t safe for you.”

She smiled slightly. “Some things are worth the risk.”

He grimaced. “The problem is, you don’t know what you’re risking.” He pressed another gentle kiss to her face. “I promise, I’ll explain everything. Just focus on getting better for now.”

He stood and strode out of the door.

Fila reappeared. “That was…”

“The truth.” Rowen closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. “When can I get out of here?”

“The healer says you're clear to go once they do a last scan. You'll be tired for a few days while the accelerated healing completes, but no lasting damage.” Fila hesitated. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I really don't.”