Page 10

Chapter 10

Cirdox

“ Y ou’re burning up, Captain.” Zara’s voice, laced with concern, cuts through the throbbing pressure behind my eyes. I feel her hand hovering near my forehead, hesitating just before contact. I flinch, a wave of hypersensitivity making my skin crawl.

“Just...adjusting to the Haven’s recycled air,” I manage, the lie tasting like ash in my parched throat. The words scrape against the raw edges of my vocal cords, a physical manifestation of the fire consuming me from within. I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to collapse into the command chair and surrender to the bond-sickness entirely.

“Recycled air doesn’t make your markings glow like molten lava.” Zara’s russet fur bristles as she steps closer, her vulpexian senses undoubtedly detecting the subtle chemical changes in my blood, the erratic pulse of bond-sickness raging through my veins. “And it certainly doesn’t make your wings tremble like they’re about to tear themselves apart.”

I force my wings to stillness, folding them tight against my back despite the agonizing pressure building beneath the membrane-thin edges. “A little...atmospheric disturbance. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You’re handling it about as well as a Huxarian handles a diplomatic negotiation.” A faint smile flickers across her features but doesn’t reach her eyes. “Meaning, not at all.”

I adjust the clasps of my coat, its familiar weight a small comfort against the growing unease. “K’vex will be watching. Vornak will be posturing. And Ralith will be scheming in the shadows. A display of weakness now would be...unwise.”

Zara sighs, the sound a mixture of exasperation and affection. “Unwise is an understatement, Captain. You’re practically radiating fever. One wrong step, one misplaced word, and they’ll tear you—and the Brotherhood—apart.”

She’s right. Postponing this meeting, revealing any vulnerability to those scavengers, is a risk I can’t afford. The Brotherhood is fracturing. Every lost shipment, every whisper of Eclipse infiltration, widens the cracks. I must maintain control. But there’s more at stake than just the Brotherhood. Neon’s discovery—Kira, alive and hunting her—adds another layer of complexity, another reason I can’t afford to falter. These captains need to understand the gravity of our situation. They need to see why Kyor trusted me, why I’m the one to lead them through this storm. I can’t lose control. Not now, not when so much hangs in the balance.

“I’ll manage,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “But keep sharp, Zara. Something’s not right here.”

The docking clamps release with a final hiss, and I push myself to my feet, gritting my teeth against the wave of dizziness washing over me. The Obsidian Haven, a jagged scar carved into the heart of a dead asteroid, stretches before us, its surface a patchwork of reinforced metal and exposed rock. In the dim light of distant nebulae, the station resembles a skeletal hand reaching out to grasp the void.

As we make our way through the Haven’s winding corridors, each step feels like walking on broken glass. The obsidian walls, polished to a mirror sheen, reflect our fractured images—distorted phantoms in a labyrinth of shadows. The air, thick with the metallic tang of recycled oxygen and the ozone of failing circuits, presses against my skin, each inhale a struggle. My Kyvernian senses, usually a source of strength, now torment me, amplifying every subtle scent, every flicker of light, every echoing sound into sensory overload. The bond-sickness claws deeper, turning the recycled air into acid in my lungs, making my skin crawl.

As we approach the central chamber, the low hum of the Haven’s life support systems intensifies, a rhythmic pulse that echoes the erratic beat of my heart. I feel Zara’s gaze on me, sharp and concerned, but I force my wings to remain folded, my expression carefully neutral. The other captains can’t see my weakness. Not yet.

The chamber doors hiss open, revealing a cavernous room that seems to swallow the dim light. A massive table dominates the center, its jagged obsidian surface etched with holographic displays pulsing with data streams—trade routes glowing like arteries, shipment logs scrolling in endless columns, and scattered red markers where Brotherhood vessels have vanished without trace. My vision blurs momentarily, the holographic lights swimming before me, but I blink hard, forcing the world back into focus.

I need clarity.

Control.

The captains are already gathered, their varied forms casting long shadows in the flickering light. Vornak, the Bravorian warlord, towers near the head of the table, his obsidian scales gleaming like polished night. K’vex, the Rhilnar tactician, stands apart, her six arms arranged in a display of studied casualness that sets my instincts on edge. Ralith, the Vulpexian, leans against a far pillar, his features masked in what I recognize as calculated indifference. Drokmar, the Croakan, sits hunched in his seat, his squat, frog-like form radiating an almost palpable aura of unease. Shen’va, the Seraphim, their expansive ice-feathered wings folded tight, watches the proceedings with an unsettlingly detached gaze. And Zyx’tal, the Muspel, paces restlessly, her lean, pale blue frame a blur of nervous energy.

As I enter, the chamber falls silent, the weight of a dozen gazes settling on me like a physical force. I feel the bond-sickness pulsing through my veins, a relentless rhythm threatening to overwhelm my control. A muscle in my jaw twitches involuntarily, and I clench my teeth, forcing it to stillness.

“You summoned us, Captain Thar’Kal.” K’vex’s voice, smooth as polished steel, slices through the tense atmosphere. Her six hands move in intricate patterns, each digit tapping out a silent rhythm against the obsidian table. “I trust the matter is...sufficiently urgent?”

The subtle emphasis on the last word, the hint of challenge in her tone, raises my hackles. “Urgent enough to interrupt your...ventures, Captain K’vex?” I counter, my voice carefully neutral, though the effort makes my throat burn.

A flicker of something—amusement, perhaps, or something colder—crosses her features. “Profit is a fleeting pleasure, Captain. Survival is a necessity.” One of her hands drifts toward a concealed weapon at her hip, the movement almost too casual to be noticed. Almost.

“A sentiment we all share,” Vornak rumbles, his golden eyes fixed on me with predatory intensity. He slams a scaled fist on the table, the impact reverberating through the chamber, sending fresh waves of agony radiating through my already strained wings. “So enlighten us, Captain. What threat justifies this...interruption?”

I take a measured breath, forcing my trembling wings to stillness. The simple act sends a fresh wave of fever through me, making my markings burn hotter, brighter against my skin. I feel Zara’s worried gaze on me but ignore it, focusing on the task at hand. Control. Always control.

“The Black Eclipse has infiltrated us.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. The whispers begin, a rising tide of hissed accusations and muttered denials. This time, I don’t let it build. I activate the central display, and a web of crimson lines blooms across the star chart, each line representing a lost vessel, a broken link in the Brotherhood’s chain.

“These are our missing vessels. Twelve in the past month alone. Each one carrying critical supplies—medical equipment, food synthesizers, and most importantly, luminore.” My voice cracks slightly, the dryness making it difficult to speak, but I push through the discomfort.

“Losses are inevitable in our line of work,” Ralith drawls from the shadows, his vulpexian features still carefully neutral, but his tail twitches nervously, betraying his unease. “This proves nothing except the Eclipse’s continued...enthusiasm for disrupting our operations. Just like the STI.”

“Look closer, Captain Ralith.” I enhance the display, highlighting specific routes, zooming in on the points where each vessel vanished. The holographic lights shimmer, and I fight back a wave of dizziness, my grip tightening on the edge of the table. “These weren’t random attacks. Each vessel was hit in a designated safe zone, using classified routes that change weekly. Routes that only Brotherhood captains have access to.”

The implications land like a physical blow. Ralith pushes off from the pillar, his casual stance replaced by sudden, predatory alertness. “You’re suggesting one of us is feeding them information.”

“I’m stating a fact,” I correct, my voice hardening despite the tremor that runs through me. “We have a leak. And until we find it, every ship we send out is at risk. Every crew member’s life hangs in the balance.”

“And what, pray tell, do you propose we do, Captain?” K’vex’s voice, smooth as ever, carries an undercurrent of steel. “Accuse each other blindly? Turn on our own while the Eclipse watches and waits, picking through the scraps of our fractured alliance?”

“We adapt,” I say, my wings shifting restlessly despite my efforts to keep them still. “We evolve. We become something stronger, something more resilient.” I trigger another display, this one showing encrypted communication channels pulsing with complex algorithms. “All sensitive information will be transmitted using quantum-locked frequencies. Face-to-face reporting only for critical updates. And every captain here will submit their ship’s logs for the past three cycles—no exceptions.”

“You’re asking us to surrender our autonomy,” Vornak booms, his scales rippling with barely contained fury. “The Brotherhood wasn’t built on blind obedience. It was built on freedom. On trust.”

“Trust that has been betrayed,” I counter, my voice growing rougher as the bond-sickness flares again, a surge of molten fire that makes my markings burn like brands against my skin. The room seems to tilt momentarily, the lights blurring into streaks of color. I blink hard, forcing the world back into focus, but my grip on the table tightens, claws digging into the obsidian surface as I fight to maintain control.

K’vex’s azure gaze fixes on me, all six hands now perfectly still, each digit poised like a striking serpent. “You don’t look well, Captain. Perhaps we should postpone this discussion until you’ve...recovered.” Her words, laced with feigned concern, are a thinly veiled challenge.

The other captains shift, their gazes flickering between us, sensing the unspoken power struggle unfolding. I straighten, though the movement sends a fresh wave of dizziness through me, making my vision swim.

“I’m fine,” I lie, the word tasting like poison. “What’s not fine is the rate at which we’re losing ships. Losing people.” I activate another display, this one showing the faces of missing crew members, their images frozen in time, their eyes staring out at us with silent accusation. “These aren’t just statistics. They’re our own. They’re families. Friends. And while we stand here arguing, they’re suffering. Or worse.”

My voice cracks, the dryness in my throat making it difficult to speak, but I push through the discomfort. The bond-sickness surges again, a wave of molten agony that makes my markings flare, their crimson glow visible even in the dim light of the chamber. I feel the other captains watching me, their gazes sharp, assessing, searching for any sign of weakness.

A ripple of unease runs through the assembled captains. Even Ralith’s carefully cultivated indifference seems to crack momentarily, a flicker of genuine sorrow crossing his vulpexian features.

“And if we find this...leak?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual, laced with a new, unsettling edge of uncertainty. “What then?”

“Justice,” I growl, the word raw with barely suppressed fury. “Swift. Public. The Brotherhood needs to see that betrayal has consequences. That loyalty still means something in this fractured galaxy.”

“Assuming we can trust the evidence,” K’vex purrs, her voice smooth as silk but sharp as a vibroblade. “After all, Captain, you yourself could be compromised. Perhaps your...fevered state is clouding your perceptions. Perhaps you’re seeing enemies where there are none.”

The accusation, delivered with such calculated precision, hangs in the air like a drawn weapon. My wings snap open before I can stop them, tribal markings blazing with a mixture of fever and rage. The motion costs me dearly—black spots dance at the edges of my vision, and momentarily, the room seems to tilt sideways. But I hold my ground, meeting K’vex’s emerald gaze with unwavering intensity.

“Question my methods,” I snarl, letting just enough of my pain bleed into my voice to make it dangerous. “Question my decisions. But never question my loyalty to the Brotherhood.” I sweep my gaze across the assembled captains, letting the weight of my words settle on each of them. “Everything I’ve done—everything I’ve sacrificed—has been to protect what we’ve built. What Kyor built before they took him from us.”

The name, spoken aloud, hangs heavy in the air. Kyor, our former leader, now rotting in an STI prison while his legacy crumbles. I see the impact ripple through the room—shoulders tensing, gazes dropping, hands clenching on weapons. Even K’vex’s perfect composure slips for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something crossing her features before she quickly masks it. Regret? Fear? Or perhaps...satisfaction?

“Submit your logs,” I continue, forcing steel into my tone despite the fire raging through me. “Investigate your crews. Vet your communications. If you find anything—anything at all—you report it directly to me. No exceptions.” My voice cracks, my throat burning, but I force the words out, each one a testament to my unwavering resolve.

“And if we...decline?” Vornak rumbles, his massive form shifting, his golden eyes narrowing into predatory slits.

I meet his gaze steadily, refusing to yield even an inch. “Then you’re declaring yourself a suspect. And I’ll treat you accordingly.”

The threat, delivered with quiet menace, lands exactly as intended. One by one, with varying degrees of reluctance, the captains nod their assent. Vornak, after a prolonged stare-down that feels like an eternity, finally grunts his agreement. Ralith, his face unreadable, gives a curt nod. K’vex, her six hands moving in a complex pattern that might be a silent calculation of odds or a coded message to an unseen accomplice, inclines her head slightly.

“Very well, Captain,” she says, her tone clipped. “But I’ll remind you—if this...investigation...fails, if even one more ship goes missing, you’ll have more than the Eclipse to worry about.”

The implied threat hangs heavy in the air as the captains begin to file out, whispered conversations trailing in their wake. I remain at the table, wings trembling with the effort of staying upright, until the last of them has departed. Only then do I allow myself to sag against the obsidian surface, its cool touch a small comfort against my burning skin. The room swims momentarily, the holographic lights blurring into streaks of color, and I close my eyes, fighting back the wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm me.

“Impressive performance, Captain.” Zara’s dry comment makes me open my eyes. She stands guard by the door, her russet fur still bristling with tension. “If by ‘impressive’ you mean ‘barely managing to stay conscious while simultaneously threatening to start a civil war.’“

“They needed to hear it,” I rasp, my voice a croak, my throat raw and burning. “Even if they didn’t want to.”

“What they need is their leader at full strength.” A new voice—familiar, challenging, tied to my very being by bonds I can’t escape—cuts through the chamber’s tense silence. “Not half- dead from stubbornness, pride, and a fever hot enough to melt steel.”

I turn, though the movement sends a fresh wave of dizziness crashing over me. Neon stands in the shadows of the doorway, her enhanced eyes glowing with a mixture of concern and frustration. Their blue light cuts through the dimness like twin stars, their intensity both comforting and alarming. The sight of her, the mere fact of her presence, sends the bond-sickness into overdrive, need and pain twisting together until I can barely breathe. The air crackles between us, charged with unspoken emotions, with the weight of the bond that pulls us together even as my instincts scream at me to push her away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I manage, my voice barely a whisper, the words lacking their usual bite. “This was a closed meeting. Classified information.”

She steps closer, her implants casting shifting blue patterns across her skin as they diligently catalog my deteriorating condition. “Classified information that could cost you your life if you don’t get some rest. Your core temperature is dangerously elevated. Neural readings are erratic. You’re burning yourself out from the inside, Cirdox.” Her voice softens on the last word, a hint of something in her tone that makes my heart clench. Fear? Concern? Something dangerously close to affection?

“The Brotherhood needs—” I begin, but she cuts me off, her voice sharp with an urgency that tightens my chest.

“The Brotherhood needs its leader alive, not collapsed in a heap because he was too proud to admit he needs help.” She moves closer still, close enough that I feel the warmth radiating from her skin, smell the faint, intoxicating scent that is uniquely hers. The bond-sickness roars to life, a firestorm in my blood, but beneath it, another sensation stirs—a flicker of warmth, of comfort, of hope.

“I can manage,” I say, the words a lie, a desperate attempt to cling to the last vestiges of my control.

“No, you can’t.” She reaches out, her hand hovering just above my arm, then gently, hesitantly, resting it on my skin. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through my system, a mixture of agony and ecstasy that makes my breath catch in my throat. “You’re shaking, Cirdox. You need rest. Now.”

I want to argue, to push her away, to maintain the distance that might keep us both safe. But the bond—the damn, insistent bond—thrums between us, a living thing that grows stronger with every shared breath, every stolen glance, every touch. And as another wave of fever washes over me, obliterating the last vestiges of my resistance, I find myself leaning into her touch, surrendering to the one person who might understand what it means to carry impossible burdens.

“I...I can’t protect anyone like this,” I admit, the words barely a whisper against her skin, a confession of vulnerability I’ve never allowed myself to utter before. “Can’t even protect myself.”

“Then let someone else do the protecting, just for a little while.” Her voice softens, though her enhanced eyes never stop scanning my vital signs, their blue light a constant reminder of her analytical mind, always measuring, always assessing. But beneath that clinical detachment, I sense something else—a flicker of warmth, of genuine concern, that makes my heart ache with a longing I haven’t felt in centuries.

The offer, simple yet profound, hangs between us, weighted with implications neither of us is ready to fully explore. But as the bond-sickness rages through my system, consuming my strength and shattering my defenses, I find myself nodding. Just once. Just enough.

She leads me from the chamber, her presence both a balm and a brand against my fevered skin. And as we make our slow, unsteady way through the Haven’s shadowed corridors, my mind races, trying to reconcile the urgent need to protect the Brotherhood with the equally urgent, terrifyingly compelling need to protect her. Two conflicting desires, two impossible burdens, both threatening to consume me entirely.

In the quiet solitude of the Haven’s oppressive embrace, I can’t help but wonder which will destroy me first—the bond-sickness burning through my veins, or the growing certainty that I’m falling for the one person who holds the power to break everything I have fought so hard to protect. Or perhaps...the one person who holds the power to save me.