Page 19 of Interstellar Love Song (Villains in Space #3)

MICAH

The intel keeps droppin’!

I’d always thought it was weird that a Stellarian's perfect match was a human— that Apotelesma literally meant “the effect of the stars on human destiny”—if humans were supposedly only found on Earth.

We’ve moved past the geocentric model, c’mon.

So while it was still a bombshell that humans existed elsewhere, it wasn’t a complete surprise.

And now I have so many questions!

“What planet are you from? Is it far? Does your stellar collision just live inside you all the time?”

Why is that kinda…

Valla’s human eyes widened more with each question I fired off, their gaze darting between me and Ziggy until my stellar collision apologetically shrugged.

“Micah is not just a sorcerer but a scientist,” he explained. “He prefers to know how things work.”

Facts.

Luckily, our escort was a good sport. “My home planet is called Vrir, and it is only a few galaxies away from Invenio-Astralis. Yes, my stellar collision and I both prefer they reside inside me, although we do occasionally separate so we can…” Valla trailed off as their face flushed. “Reconnect our bond.”

Oh, is that what you call it?

As rare as it was to find a prude in space, the last thing I wanted was to make them uncomfortable, so I redirected with a question closer to our other reason for being here.

“Are all humans the same genetically?” I asked, keeping my tone scientifically detached. “Or is it like Stellarians and Eki where we’re close on the Caelestis family tree but not directly related…?”

Hopefully close enough to make space babies, though.

Valla chuckled, seeming to settle in with my signature pestering. “It is my understanding that all humans are similar genetically, although Vrirites are powerless and do not have additional DNA mixed in like you Gaians apparently do.”

So, they’re similar to normies.

Normies were what we supes called the regular humans on Earth. Even the lesser supes shared our enhanced strength and speed but normies possessed no fancy DNA or powers, and were overall more fragile compared to their superhuman counterparts .

This distinction made me think of another question—one that had been weighing on my mind.

I cleared my throat. “What is the… average lifespan for Vrirites?”

Ziggy snapped his attention to his fellow Stellarian— Stellarian in a consensual skinsuit —and stared, practically salivating in anticipation for the intel.

Same, boy, same.

I braced myself for Valla’s reply. It might produce more questions than answers, or it might shut down our hopes— for now— but I’d always had the compulsion to explore every angle, no matter what.

Our escort glanced between us, seeming confused.

“Roughly one hundred Vririan years, but my lifespan is now under the care of my mate. They are connected to my bodily systems in the same way they would be if I were a conquered vessel. As long as they stay connected, I will not age, nor will I die until it is our time to go.”

Earthbound bestie was right!

“Thank fuck…” Ziggy collapsed onto a nearby seat carved from the rock before dropping his head into his hands.

Was he really that pressed about it this whole time?!

My heart sank. As much as my man had learned to use his words to communicate with me, he still struggled with sharing his heaviest concerns and deepest fears.

Doesn’t he know I can help him carry it—that I’m happy to ?

“Did you not know that was how stellar collision bonds worked?” Valla judgmentally asked and I snapped.

“How would he know?” I snarled, causing Pedro to squeak and scamper to their number one space dad for safety. “Astrum Force kept their own people in the dark and the True Stellarians have apparently been hoarding records on the moon!”

“Micah…” Ziggy warned, but there wasn’t much conviction in his tone.

He sounds so tired.

Valla looked like they had some choice words to share—and I was ready to clap back so hard their descendants would feel it—but then their gaze grew distant.

“Ondor would like to speak to you,” Valla sighed. “My stellar collision.”

“Please,” I gestured for them to take the floor, backing down for my stellar collision’s sake.

Because I definitely had more to say.

“Ziggy Andromeda,” Ondor spoke in Stellarian through Valla’s vocal cords, a melodious sound that hinted at their resonance. “It is truly an honor to meet such a legendary hero ? —”

“I’m no hero,” Ziggy shot back, glaring up at his fellow Stellarian. “I was tired of being lied to, so I took down those who lied to me—with the help of my stellar collision. That’s it.”

Oh, Zig.

“I am sorry you were lied to by Astrum Force,” they replied, instead of pushing for him to accept the distinction. “And that you clearly feel the True Stellarians are doing the same by ? —”

“Withholding?” I interrupted, still salty over my sweet danger baby’s hurt feelings and the parallels with my own history being withheld back on Earth. “Keeping Stellaria’s history locked away for no other reason than?—”

“Protection,” Ondor gently corrected. “Along with a few others, we have personally protected what was left of Stellaria’s history—what Astrum Force didn’t destroy—for 20,000 years.”

Oh.

I’ll take several seats now.

“But ‘planet-raised’ Stellarians are still unaware of stellar collisions!” Ziggy choked out, continuing to stand up for his people— like the hero he was.

“They don’t know anything about our true purpose or our extended family tree.

Why not bring the archives back to Stellaria? Or invite them here to view it?”

A valid question.

I crossed my arms and awaited the no doubt infuriating excuse we were about to hear. Ondor—and Valla?—turned to gaze out the window for a good minute, but when they faced us again, they looked…

Afraid?

“We do not believe that would be wise,” Ondor mumbled. “Based on the intel we have received.”

My man paled so drastically, if he hadn’t already been sitting, I might have needed to conjure up a fainting couch.

This is not good.

“What intel?” Ziggy asked, barely above a whisper. “From whom?”

Ondor glanced at the endless expanse of space again before lowering their voice. “We would like to bring you to the archives now.”

Okay…

Ziggy scooped up Pedro and stood before holding out his hand for me. I took it and gave it a squeeze, while pumping our bond full of unadulterated love, whether he liked it or not.

I’m here, you big idiot.

Until we return to the stars.

Ondor star hopped and we followed, chasing their vibrational path like a note traveling along a guitar string, just like Zig had taught me.

Or maybe I knew how all along…

We landed in what was clearly a lower level of the mountain, judging by the temperature drop. At first glance, it looked like nothing but a rustic wine cellar, the oddly-shaped, iridescent bottles reflecting the artificial light glittering from large globes strung overhead.

Before I could launch into a million questions, Ondor pulled a bottle from the nearest rack and walked it toward a nondescript wooden crate before placing it on top, bringing the contents into view.

Nothing .

“It’s empty,” I said.

“No,” Ziggy replied, stepping closer, squinting at the empty bottle. “I can feel something in there…”

Ondor smiled and leaned forward until their face was next to Zig’s.

“What you are feeling is the edge of the collective well. All Stellarians were able to tap into it at one point, but tens of thousands of years spent believing it was a myth weakened that natural connection. Having a stellar collision bond reawakens your ability to see.”

“See what?” Ziggy rasped.

“Individual memories, shared histories…” Our guide trailed off. “Visions of what will come to pass.”

“No!” Zig gasped, backing away from the freaky memory bottle. “I refuse to believe that. What I saw was only a dream?—”

“Stellarians don’t dream,” Ondor gently said. “Whatever you saw came to you via the collective well.”

But how?!

Ziggy must have had the same question. “My mental defenses are impenetrable,” he muttered. “It was one of the first skills I mastered in the service of Astrum Force.”

His fellow Stellarian sighed, tracing the bottle with their stellar collision’s finger. “Our subconscious is more susceptible to input than our conscious mind, especially from… our own kind.”

Ziggy blew out a shaky breath. “So you’re telling me another Stellarian sent me a vision of Stellaria being destroyed?! ”

I was surprised my man dropped a bombshell like that in the presence of unvetted company, but I supported getting answers more than playing our cards close.

“You saw Stellaria fall?” Ondor carefully asked, eying Zig appraisingly. “Did you get a clear look at the attacker?”

My stellar collision’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “There was nothing to see—only endless darkness swallowing up everything and everyone I cared about in this life.”

Poor baby.

I knew this experience was difficult for Zig to keep reliving—even if it hadn’t actually happened—so I decided to step in and cut to the chase.

Because if anyone should help us fight for Stellaria, it would be the True Stellarians.

“We’ve been tracking a creature destroying planets,” I offered, watching Ondor’s increasingly concerned reaction closely. “They seem to be targeting weaker species and recently took out a hidden planet inhabited by a faction of ‘True Eki’ who had seceded from Ekistron…”

Our guide dropped their head into their—Valla’s—hands. “We will never be free…”

Both Ziggy and I froze. “What do you mean by that?” I asked.

That’s all the Eki wanted too…

Ondor lifted their head and sighed. “My fellow True Stellarians and I spent far too many years under the dictatorship of Astrum Force Command, where nothing mattered except power and conquest. A chance detour to Vrir with my Star Unit introduced me to Valla—to my stellar collision. ”

They paused to press a palm to their glowing chest, checking in with their other half.

Awww.

“I wasn’t the only one in my unit who felt a pull during that visit,” they continued. “But when we reported our findings to Astrum Force, we were punished.”

“Punished how?” I asked, remembering how Astrum Force had used our connection as a little science experiment.

Probably with the intention of punishing us once the experiment was over.

Ondor shuddered. “We were assigned to return to Vrir—to fully take over the bodies of those we’d felt a pull toward and bring them back for… testing.”

A jolt of pain shot through my bond, but when I glanced at Ziggy in concern, all I found was him clutching his chest while faintly resonating.

Is this…

Is he…

IS MY MAN FEELING EMPATHY?!

My chest tightened as well—a combination of responding to Ziggy’s emotions and my deeply ingrained need to help— and even Pedro began to glow red as they softly chittered.

Like one extended family.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Ziggy murmured, making me swoon. “If Astrum Force had commanded me to kill Micah, I don’t know what I would have done… ”

I do.

Ondor chuckled and clapped Zig on the back. “A natural born rebel like you would have done exactly what we did: Return to Vrir, connect as stellar collisions with our mates, and defect from our Star Unit before creating a secret stronghold on the moon.”

“Yeah,” I laughed as Zig grinned. “That sounds about right.”

Rebel, rebel.

I love you so.

“So why not share the concept of stellar collisions with Stellarians at large?” I asked, determined to keep us on track. “You mentioned not thinking it was a good idea—based on mysterious intel—can you tell us more?

Ondor glanced around again, as if worried whatever they’d been nervous about in the amphitheater could follow us down here.

Maybe it can…

“Those of us with full stellar collision bonds have connected to the collective well from time to time.” They pressed their lips into a thin line.

“Those visions have increased as of late, and have felt more like warnings—warnings to not share our knowledge with Stellaria. We were told that doing so would ‘weaken’ our bloodline.”

The weak shall inherit nothing.

An exciting hypothesis surfaced. “Do you have a Caelestis family tree here in your archives? All we’ve seen was what The Knowledge had, and I have a feeling those records aren’t as complete as yours. ”

They nodded and gestured toward an enormous wine rack on the far wall. “Of course—with each species in its own bottle.”

My enthusiasm faded to see exactly how many bottles there were to go through—way more species than had been listed at The Knowledge—but I was confident in my man’s newfound witchy woo.

“All right, Zig.” I grabbed his arm and led him toward our next task. “Time to figure out who in the family has beef with true love.”