Page 13
Chapter 13
Neon Valkyrie
T he Void Reaver’s maintenance bay smells of grease and burning metal as I crouch behind a gutted nav console, trying to focus on the delicate circuitry instead of the electric awareness of Cirdox’s presence. Every time he shifts position near the door, my implants helpfully track his movements, making it impossible to ignore how his wings cast shifting shadows across my workbench or how his fever-bright tribal markings pulse in time with my thundering heart.
“You’ve been at that for hours,” he says, his voice rough with barely contained need. The bond-sickness radiates from him in waves hot enough to make my enhanced senses malfunction. My fingers tremble as I connect another crystalline matrix, fighting the urge to go to him, to ease his pain the way we both know I could.
His wing brushes my shoulder as he moves closer, the gentle touch sending shivers down my spine. “The Brotherhood lost another supply ship yesterday,” he murmurs, his crimson eyes dark with concern. “Third one this month. Right along a route that was supposed to be secure.”
I stiffen, the implications hitting hard even as my body betrays me by leaning into his touch. “You think one of your captains is compromised.”
“K’vex has been asking too many questions about our delivery schedules.” His wings shift restlessly, creating a cocoon of warmth around us that makes it hard to think. “And Vornak’s been pushing for more aggressive action against Eclipse territories. Could be genuine concern, or...”
“Or they’re testing your defenses,” I finish, my heart racing as he leans closer, his fever-hot breath ghosting across my neck. “That’s why we need this detector working. If we can prove the Eclipse is tainting luminore supplies...”
“We can expose whoever’s helping them distribute it,” he growls, his clawed fingers trailing down my arm in a possessive caress that makes my implants stutter and glitch. “But you’re pushing yourself too hard.”
I turn to face him, a mistake that brings us dangerously close. “Says the Kyvernian burning up with bond-sickness because his mate is too stubborn to commit.”
His eyes flash with heat that has nothing to do with fever. “My mate is protecting herself from past hurts. I can be patient.” He cups my face with surprising gentleness. “But watching you work yourself to exhaustion while these encrypted transmissions eat at you... that’s harder to bear.”
The tenderness in his voice cracks something inside me. My neural interface fills with streams of data as I access the stolen files, each line of code bringing me closer to answers I’m not sure I want to find. The encryption is sophisticated, bearing Kira’s unmistakable signature. She always did have a flair for the elegant solution, even when using it for terrible purposes.
“I have to finish this,” I whisper, though my hands have stilled on the components. “Before more ships disappear. Before the Eclipse’s tainted luminore spreads further. Before...”
“Before you lose someone else you care about?” he asks softly, understanding darkening his gaze.
I close my eyes against the truth in his words, but his warmth surrounds me, offering shelter I’m finally starting to believe I deserve.
INITIATING DECRYPTION SEQUENCE...
WARNING: Hostile code patterns detected
PROCEED Y/N?
My hands hover over the interface, suddenly unsure. These files could tell us everything—who’s working with the Eclipse, where they’re striking next, how deep the conspiracy really goes. But they could also be exactly what Kira wants me to find. A trail of digital breadcrumbs leading straight into another trap.
“You’re hesitating,” Cirdox observes, his voice carefully neutral. “Why?”
“Because I know her,” I say softly, memories of late-night coding sessions and shared dreams of exposing corruption flooding back. “Know how she thinks. These transmissions... they’re too easy to track. Too perfectly laid out.” I rake my fingers through my hair, a nervous habit from my early hacking days. “It’s like she wanted me to find them.”
“Then spring the trap,” he growls, the predatory note in his voice making my pulse jump. “But on our terms.”
Before I can respond, my upgrade chimes with an incoming transmission. McCoy’s face appears in my enhanced vision, her expression grim. “We’ve got movement. Eclipse transport just entered the sector, heading toward the abandoned medical depot near Morcrest. Small vessel, probably a scout, but the signature matches what we discussed.”
Ice floods my veins as the implications hit. “They’re testing our new defenses,” I say, already running calculations. “Seeing if we can detect their modified luminore shipments.”
“Agreed.” McCoy’s image flickers as she accesses additional data. “My team’s tracking them, but we need to know what’s in that cargo hold. If they’re moving more of their tainted supplies...”
“We’ll handle it,” Cirdox cuts in, his wings mantling with barely contained eagerness despite the fever burning through him. “The Void Reaver can be there in two hours.”
“Wait.” I grab his arm, feeling the heat of his skin even through his armor. “You can barely stand. The bond-sickness—”
“Will have to wait,” he says firmly, though I see how the effort of maintaining control makes his tribal markings pulse erratically against his bronze skin. His wings shift restlessly, creating patterns of shadow that draw my eye despite my best efforts to stay focused. “This is our chance to prove the Eclipse is weaponizing medical supplies. We can’t waste it.”
He’s right, damn him. But watching him fight through the fever, seeing how each movement costs him more energy he can’t spare, makes something twist painfully in my chest. My implants helpfully inform me that my own vital signs are elevated—heart rate increased, stress hormones spiking, emotional response patterns indicating heightened concern. They also note, with clinical precision, how my body temperature rises 1.2 degrees when his wing accidentally brushes my shoulder.
“Fine,” I say, gathering the half-finished detector components while trying to ignore how his scent—metal and smoke and something fiercely alien—makes my enhanced senses malfunction in the most inconvenient ways. “But we do this smart. No heroics, no unnecessary risks.” I meet his gaze steadily, though it costs me to see the fever burning in those crimson depths. “I mean it, Cirdox. I won’t watch someone else die because I wasn’t fast enough to save them.”
The words hang between us, heavy with unspoken meaning. His hand catches mine as I reach for the last component, the heat of his skin sending electricity through my nerve endings that has nothing to do with my implants and everything to do with the way he looks at me—like I’m something precious and dangerous all at once. We both know I’m not just talking about this mission. The ghost of Kai’s death, of Kira’s betrayal, shadows every choice I make.
“I’m not him,” Cirdox says softly, his hand catching mine. The contact sends electricity through my nerve endings, making my implants misfire spectacularly. “And I’m not leaving.”
“You might not have a choice,” I whisper, the words bitter on my tongue. “The bond-sickness—”
“Then give me a reason to fight it.” His thumb traces patterns on my wrist that make focusing nearly impossible. “Give us both a reason to stop running.”
I should pull away. Should focus on the mission, on stopping whatever the Eclipse is planning. Every survival instinct I’ve honed screams at me to maintain distance, to protect myself—to protect him—from what’s coming. My enhanced vision automatically begins calculating escape routes, mapping the fastest path to the nearest airlock.
But as I watch him struggle against the fever burning through his veins, something inside me fractures. The walls I’ve built so carefully begin to crack, letting in emotions my implants can’t quite categorize. Because maybe running isn’t the answer anymore. Maybe it never was.
“I’m scared,” I admit, the words barely a whisper. “Not of you. Of this. Of wanting something I might not get to keep.” My fingers trace one of his tribal markings, feeling how it pulses with fever beneath my touch. “Everyone I care about either leaves or dies. And you’re already burning up because I can’t—”
The words catch in my throat as I watch another tremor wrack his powerful frame. My enhanced vision catalogs his deteriorating condition with clinical precision—temperature climbing, muscle tremors increasing, neural patterns growing more erratic. All because of me. Because I’m too afraid to complete the bond, too damaged to give him what he needs to survive. Each day I hesitate, the bond-sickness burns hotter in his veins, consuming him from the inside out. My indecision is literally killing him, and that knowledge tears at me worse than any Black Eclipse torture ever could.
“I’m killing you,” I whisper, the guilt crushing my chest like a quantum singularity. “Every time I pull away, every time I let my fear win—I’m choosing my comfort over your life. What kind of monster does that make me?” My hands shake as they map the fever-bright patterns on his skin, testament to the price he’s paying for my cowardice. “You deserve someone whole, someone brave enough to love you without reservation. Not... not someone so broken they’d rather watch you suffer than risk their heart.”
His wings snap forward, creating a sanctuary of shadow and warmth that blocks out everything else. “Then we face that fear together,” he says, his voice rough with emotion that bypasses all my defensive protocols. “No guarantees. No certainties. Just us, figuring it out as we go.”
When his lips find mine, it’s not the desperate clash I expected. Instead, it’s achingly gentle, full of all the things neither of us knows how to say. My enhanced senses catalog every detail—the slight tremor in his hands as they cup my face, the way his wings quiver with barely contained need, the taste of copper that suggests the fever is wearing him down faster than he admits.
The kiss speaks of everything we can’t put into words—trust earned through shared battles, desire that burns hotter than the bond-sickness in his veins, the weight of past pain and fragile hope for a future I never dared imagine. But as his wings start to curl around us, reality crashes back. We’re in the middle of a critical mission, with enemies potentially watching our every move.
I pull back reluctantly, though everything in me protests the distance. “We can’t,” I whisper, my voice rough with emotion I can’t quite suppress. “Not here. Not now.”
His wings quiver with barely contained need, but he nods, understanding in his crimson eyes. “Later,” he growls, the promise in his voice sending shivers down my spine despite my best efforts to maintain control.
My enhanced vision catalogs his vital signs—fever still burning hot, tribal markings pulsing with intensity that makes my implants stutter in their analysis. The bond-sickness isn’t getting better, and this interrupted intimacy probably isn’t helping. Another thing to feel guilty about. Another way I’m hurting someone I care about.
“Focus on the mission,” I say, as much to myself as to him. “We need to contact McCoy, figure out our next move.”
He straightens, though I can see the effort it costs him. “Always so practical, little hacker,” he teases, but there’s understanding beneath the playful tone. We both know what’s at stake—and that some things, no matter how desperately wanted, have to wait.
Before I can respond, my neural interface chimes with an urgent alert. The decryption program I left running has finally broken through Kira’s last firewall. Data streams across my vision, each revelation worse than the last.
“No,” I breathe, pulling away from Cirdox to access the full feed. “No, no, no.”
“What is it?” He moves with me, wings mantling protectively as he reads over my shoulder. “What did you find?”
“It’s worse than we thought.” My fingers fly across the interface, mapping connections that make my blood run cold. “Kira isn’t just working with the Eclipse. She’s helping them perfect their control over luminore distribution. Creating artificial shortages, targeting specific colonies...” My hands clench into fists. “Damn you, Kira. What happened to protecting people? What happened to exposing corruption?”
The data keeps coming, each new file adding another piece to a puzzle I wish I couldn’t solve. Star charts, shipping manifests, classified STI communications—a web of conspiracy that reaches higher than I ever imagined.
“She’s talking to someone inside the STI,” I continue, my voice tight with barely contained fury. “High level. They’re planning something big. Something that—” I break off as a new file decrypts, its contents making my stomach drop. “No. They wouldn’t.”
“Show me,” Cirdox demands, his fever-bright eyes scanning the display. His wings curl tighter around us, as if he can somehow shield me from the truth we’re uncovering.
“Vulpexia,” I say, the word ashen in my mouth. “They’re going to hit Vulpexia. Use it as a demonstration of what happens to worlds that resist Eclipse control.” My fingers trace projected attack vectors across the star map. “If this works, if they succeed... they won’t just control luminore. They’ll control who lives and who dies across the entire sector.”
A spike of pain lances through my temple as another encrypted message breaks through my firewalls:
GETTING WARMER, VALKYRIE. BUT YOU’RE STILL NOT SEEING THE WHOLE PICTURE. REMEMBER WHAT I TAUGHT YOU—SOMETIMES THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF THE CODE IS WHAT’S NOT THERE.
“Kira,” I breathe, recognizing her signature. My hands tremble over the keys. “She’s watching. Right now.”
My fingers fly across the interface, tracking signal patterns that make my blood run cold. “McCoy,” I say, initiating an emergency transmission. “I need you online. Now.”
Her face materializes in my enhanced vision almost immediately, expression sharp with concern. “What did you find?”
“Black Eclipse transport, heading into Vulpexian space.” My implants stream tactical data directly to her secure channel. “Small vessel, probably a scout, but the signature...” I pause, double-checking the encryption patterns. “It matches those modified ships we’ve been tracking. The ones carrying tainted luminore.”
McCoy’s eyes narrow as she processes the information. “How certain are you?”
“Certain enough that I’ve triple-verified the signature patterns.” I stream the encrypted data through our secure channel, letting McCoy see the evidence herself. “The transport’s using modified shielding—same configuration we found at the medical depot. And the energy readings...” My enhanced vision highlights specific anomalies. “They match the tainted luminore shipments exactly.”
McCoy’s expression hardens as she analyzes the data. “Timeline?”
“Based on their current trajectory and speed, they’ll reach Vulpexian space in less than six hours.” My implants calculate possible scenarios, each one worse than the last. “If this is just a scout ship, the main fleet won’t be far behind.”
“And once they establish a foothold—”
“The entire sector becomes vulnerable,” I finish, watching the tactical projections play out across my neural interface. “They’ll control every major trade route, every medical supply line. Vulpexia’s just the beginning.”
Our eyes meet through the neural link, and I see my own grim understanding reflected in her expression. We both know what’s coming—and that stopping it will take more than just one rogue hacker or one determined officer. Ice floods my veins, freezing the lingering warmth of Cirdox. While I was letting myself feel something real, Kira was out there, setting her plans in motion. How many people will die because I let myself get distracted?
“We need to move,” I say, already reaching for my discarded clothes. “If they’re starting their advance—”
“Wait.” McCoy’s voice cuts through the comm with sudden urgency. “There’s something else you need to know. About the Vulpexian connection.”
I pause, noting the careful way she chooses her words. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I have a contact there. Someone who might be able to help us stop whatever Kira’s planning.” Her image flickers in my enhanced vision. “Ambassador Ta’vag.”
“A politician?” I pull away from Cirdox, incredulity sharpening my voice. “You want me to trust a politician? After what happened with Kyor?” The memory of Kyor’s betrayal, of how his “help” nearly got us all killed, makes bile rise in my throat.
“Ta’vag is different,” McCoy insists, her usually sharp tone softening slightly. “He opposed Garrox’s luminore deals, fought against Eclipse influence in his sector. His fur ripples when he’s distressed—makes him a terrible liar, actually. The Eclipse would never trust him with their operations.”
I rake my fingers through my hair, that old nervous habit surfacing again. “Right. Because the last time someone vouched for an ally, it worked out so well.” The bitterness in my voice surprises even me.
“I wouldn’t suggest this if I wasn’t certain,” McCoy says quietly. “I’ve worked with Ta’vag before. He helped expose Garrox’s corruption when everyone else looked the other way.”
Cirdox moves closer, his fever-hot presence both comforting and distracting. “If McCoy trusts him, that’s worth considering. She’s not exactly known for giving trust easily.”
The words hit harder than they should, making my throat tight. Trust. Such a simple thing, but so terrifyingly powerful. I’ve spent so long running from it, hiding from it, believing it would get me killed. But maybe it’s what will save us instead.
“Fine,” I say, already pulling up Ta’vag’s records on my neural interface. “But I want everything—surveillance feeds, communication logs, anything that might help us verify his loyalties. And we do this carefully.”
“Already sending the files,” McCoy says. “But Neon? We’re running out of time. If the Eclipse launches this attack—”
“I know.” I close my eyes, feeling the weight of responsibility settle heavy on my shoulders. “If they succeed, Vulpexia won’t just fall. It’ll be the first of many.”
Cirdox’s wings create that familiar pattern of shadow and warmth that somehow makes even the worst situations feel manageable. “Then we fight,” he says simply. “Together.”
As we head for the bridge, my neural interface catalogs our chances of survival, running probability scenarios and threat assessments. The numbers aren’t good. But for the first time since Kai died, since Kira revealed herself, since this whole mess began, I don’t care about the odds.
Because for once, the odds and calculations don’t matter. My implants can run probability scenarios until they overheat—it won’t change what needs to be done.