Page 19

Chapter 19

Neon Valkyrie

T he data flows through my neural implants with a clarity I’ve never experienced—sharper, faster, more intuitive. It’s as if the mate-bond with Cirdox has not only changed my heart but has also upgraded my very hardware. My tech responds with an almost symbiotic efficiency, each data pattern unfolding with a precision that would have been impossible just days ago. It’s like my systems have been waiting for this connection, now finally complete.

I pause, fingers drifting to the claiming marks on my neck, a soft, involuntary smile curving my lips. The connection we forged is... astounding. How could something so primal, so instinctual, mesh so flawlessly with my tech? I’d feared that binding myself to him would mean surrendering my independence, my control. Instead, it’s as if the vastness of space has suddenly been mapped in perfect detail, each star burning brighter, each pathway clearer. And there’s... a lightness where his constant pain used to be. A relief that floods through our bond, a silent, shared joy that he’s free.

A flicker of red in the usual blue data stream catches my eye—an encryption pattern I’d recognize anywhere. My heart pounds as I dive deeper, neural implants pulsing with increased activity as I decrypt the fragmented message. What emerges makes my blood run cold.

“Cirdox,” I say, voice tight with controlled urgency. “You need to see this.” My fingers fly across the tactical display, pulling up the evidence I’ve been gathering for weeks. The communication logs materialize between us, timestamps perfectly aligned with Eclipse movements in ways that can’t be coincidence.

His wings snap wide as he processes the implications, markings pulsing with dangerous intensity. “K’vex,” he growls, the name carrying years of betrayal. “Show me everything.”

I project the full scope of her treachery—fleet positions leaked to Eclipse vessels, security protocols compromised, even detailed reports about his recovery from bond-sickness. “She didn’t just sell out a few patrol routes,” I explain, highlighting key transmissions. “She gave them everything.”

Cirdox’s predatory instincts surge through our bond as he studies the data, his wings mantling with barely contained fury. “Clever little hacker,” he murmurs, though his voice carries steel beneath the praise. “You’ve been tracking her all along.”

Before I can respond, the tactical display erupts in cascading warnings. K’vex’s sabotage is spreading faster than we anticipated, corrupting system after system with viral precision. Through our bond, I feel Cirdox’s tactical mind racing, calculating odds even as his protective instincts scream to get me to safety.

“Neon!” Cirdox’s voice carries the full weight of command as he sees the pattern forming in the chaos. “Take control of the systems. You’re the only one who can counter her algorithms fast enough to save the ship!”

The urgency in his tone galvanizes me into action. My fingers fly across the interface as I dive deep into the corrupted code, fighting to contain the digital infection before it reaches our core systems. He’s right—my neural implants give me an edge that might mean the difference between survival and watching everything we’ve built burn around us.

My fingers fly across the interface as strings of corrupted code spread through our defenses like poison. “Multiple breaches detected,” I report, neural implants burning as I fight to contain the damage. “They’re dismantling our security protocols faster than I can patch them.”

“Computer, initiate security protocol Delta-Seven,” I command, but the system responds with ominous silence. My screens flicker and distort as foreign code consumes my carefully maintained defenses.

“Engineering reports critical failures in the shield matrix,” Grig calls out, his usually steady voice tight with tension. His pale blue fingers dance across multiple control panels. “The targeting systems are rejecting manual overrides.”

Zara’s fur bristles as she checks another failing system. “Navigation’s compromised. They’re locking us out of our own helm controls.” Her tail lashes with barely contained fury. “Even the backup systems are failing.”

“K’vex couldn’t have done this alone,” I growl, desperately trying to salvage what I can. “These encryption patterns... they’re too sophisticated, too familiar.” My heart pounds as recognition hits. “This is Kira’s work. She must have helped K’vex compromise our systems after she escaped the facility raid.”

The realization makes my blood run cold. McCoy warned us Kira’s Eclipse enhancements made her more dangerous than we anticipated. Now she’s turned my own security protocols against us, using intimate knowledge of how I think, how I code, to tear down everything I’ve built to protect this ship—this family.

“The auxiliary power couplings are still holding,” Grig reports, his large eyes fixed on the engineering readouts. “If we can reroute essential systems through the secondary grid—”

“No time,” Zara cuts in, her sharp ears flattening against her skull. “Multiple Eclipse signatures detected. They’re moving to surround us.”

My fingers fly across the interface, fighting against code that feels like a twisted mirror of my own work. Every security measure I’ve crafted since joining the crew is being dismantled with surgical precision. If they gain full control of our systems, it won’t just mean our capture—it will give the Eclipse access to every Brotherhood shipping route, every facility we protect, every colony depending on us for luminore... for survival.

“They’re not just trying to take us down,” I say, watching another firewall crumble. “They want our entire network. Every supply line, every safe harbor, every resistance contact we’ve built.” The enormity of what’s at stake makes my voice rough. “If they succeed, the outer colonies won’t stand a chance.”

Through our bond, I feel Cirdox’s fury rise like a storm as he realizes the depth of this betrayal. His wings snap wide, casting shadows across the bridge as he moves to coordinate our defense. But we both know that without our systems, we’re fighting blind.

The proximity alarms shriek to life as multiple Eclipse warships materialize from hyperspace, their weapons already charged and targeting systems locked onto the Void Reaver. We’re surrounded, outgunned, and our own tech is turning traitor in our hands.

But Cirdox is already moving, his wings spread wide with lethal grace as he takes command of the deteriorating situation. The betrayal of a Brotherhood captain demands a response only he can give—and the fury burning through our bond promises it will be devastating.

The proximity alarms shriek to life, a deafening cacophony that drowns out my words. Multiple Eclipse warships materialize from hyperspace, their weapons already charged, their targeting systems locked onto the Void Reaver. Cirdox’s tribal markings blaze with barely contained fury, his wings snapping wide as a feral snarl escapes his throat. His claws leave deep gouges in the command console as he assesses the threat, every line of his powerful body radiating lethal intent. The crew flinches at his display of raw aggression, but I recognize it for what it is—the rage of a predator watching enemies threaten what’s his.

“They dare,” he growls, his voice carrying centuries of predatory menace. “They dare threaten my ship, my crew, my mate.” His wings cast crimson shadows as his markings pulse brighter. “They’ll learn why Kyvernians are feared across the void. Open a channel to K’vex,” he commands with barely contained fury. “Now.”

When her hologram materializes, his wings snap wide with aggressive dominance. “You betrayed us,” he snarls, baring elongated fangs. “The Brotherhood trusted you, protected you, and you sold us to the Eclipse.”

K’vex’s hologram flickers into existence, her six hands moving in a triumphant dance, her mandibles clicking with a satisfaction that makes my skin crawl. “I warned the Eclipse she’d be a problem, Neon Valkyrie,” she sneers. “Her reputation for disrupting carefully laid plans. But even the best hacker can’t fight when her systems are turned against her.”

My fingers dance desperately across the tactical controls, a futile attempt to regain control. But the sabotage runs deeper than I feared—far deeper than should have been possible. I had checked these systems personally, spending countless nights poring over every line of code, every security protocol. Had tested and retested each firewall, each encryption layer. I was so certain I’d created an impenetrable defense.

Yet now each command line I enter twists and corrupts, my own code turning treacherous under my hands. The neural implants that usually amplify my abilities sputter and spark, sending jolts of pain through my skull as they try to interface with compromised systems. How did I miss this? What subtle backdoor did Kira exploit while I was distracted by other threats?

The realization hits like a physical blow—I was so focused on external attacks, on protecting against obvious intrusions, that I overlooked the possibility of someone already having deep access. Someone who could plant dormant code, hiding it within legitimate Brotherhood protocols. Someone who knew exactly how I would try to defend against conventional hacking attempts.

My mind races through recent system logs, searching for any hint I should have caught. Those minor glitches in the navigation array last week. The split-second delays in tactical displays that I dismissed as routine lag. Even the way certain encryption patterns seemed almost too perfect, too clean. All signs I ignored, too confident in my own abilities to consider that the threat was already inside our defenses, waiting to strike.

“The Brotherhood trusted you,” Cirdox snarls, his voice a low growl that vibrates through the ship, his wings mantling with a fury that makes the air crackle with energy. Through our bond, I feel his protective instincts warring with his duty as captain, a conflict that tears at me even as I fight my own battle.

“The Brotherhood is obsolete,” K’vex replies, her voice dripping with disdain. “The Eclipse offers order, control. They understand that some must be sacrificed for the greater good.” Her compound eyes fix on me, cold and calculating. “Starting with your mate.”

The ship rocks violently as the first volley slams into our shields. Warning klaxons blare, a discordant symphony of impending doom, as multiple systems report critical failures. Our defenses, crippled by K’vex’s treachery, crumble under the Eclipse onslaught. The Void Reaver shudders beneath my feet, her proud spirit wounded by this betrayal from within as much as the enemy fire from without.

“Zara!” Cirdox barks, his voice a command that cuts through the chaos. “Get us clear of their firing solution!”

But even as his first officer executes a desperate evasive maneuver, I see more Eclipse ships emerging from hyperspace, boxing us in with a tactical precision that speaks of intimate knowledge of our capabilities. They knew exactly where to hit us, exactly how to neutralize our advantages. My screens fill with cascading failure warnings, a digital death spiral.

The tactical screens suddenly flicker and die, only to reignite with a nightmarish display—every Brotherhood vessel’s position laid bare in perfect, clinical detail. Red targeting vectors spider across the projection, each line connecting to a waiting Eclipse warship. It’s not just tactical data—it’s an execution map, showing exactly how they plan to systematically destroy each ship.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” K’vex’s voice carries an almost reverent tone as the crew watches in horror. “Every formation, every fallback position, every emergency protocol—all precisely calculated for maximum effect.”

The display shifts, showing thermal readings of crew locations aboard each vessel. Hundreds of life signs pulse like dying stars, completely unaware they’re being hunted. Combat veterans like Zara and Grig turn ashen as they recognize the implications—this isn’t just an ambush, it’s an extinction event.

“Watch closely,” K’vex commands as the first targeting solutions lock into place. “The Eclipse wants you to understand exactly how thoroughly you’ve been betrayed.”

The screens erupt in a synchronized dance of destruction as two Brotherhood ships explode simultaneously, their crews never even having a chance to react. The precision of it is terrifying—each blast carefully calculated to cripple rather than destroy, ensuring maximum casualties while preserving valuable resources for salvage.

Through our bond, I feel Cirdox’s rage building like a storm as he watches his people die, betrayed by one of their own. His tribal markings pulse with fury bright enough to cast crimson shadows across the bridge. But beneath the anger, there’s something worse—the dawning realization that every strategy, every contingency he’d planned, had been engineered to fail from the start.

“You won’t win,” I tell K’vex, my fingers flying across the corrupted interface as warnings flash across my screens. “The Eclipse can’t control everything.”

“Can’t we?” Her mandibles click in amusement, a sound that grates on my nerves. “Your neural implants are quite sophisticated, Neon. Imagine what secrets we’ll extract once we’ve properly analyzed them—and you.”

My hands still for a fraction of a second before resuming their desperate dance across the controls. Each command line I enter twists and corrupts, my own code turning treacherous under my fingers. The neural implants that usually amplify my abilities sputter and spark, sending jolts of pain through my skull as they try to interface with compromised systems.

“Zara!” Cirdox shouts over the blaring alarms. “Primary defense grid is failing. Switch to auxiliary controls!”

“Already on it,” she calls back, her russet fur bristling as she works. “But we’re losing systems faster than I can reroute power.”

The ship rocks violently as another volley strikes home. Through the viewport, I catch glimpses of Brotherhood ships trying to rally, to form some kind of defensive screen around us. But their formations are in shambles, their coordinated movements dissolving into chaos as compromised communications leave them blind and vulnerable.

“Tactical systems at thirty percent,” Grig reports, his usually calm voice tight with tension. “Enemy vessels closing from all vectors.”

My screens fill with cascading failure warnings as more Brotherhood ships fall into disarray. The Eclipse knows exactly where to hit us, exactly how to neutralize our advantages. I slam my fist against the console in frustration as another command sequence fails.

“Having trouble?” K’vex’s hologram asks, all six hands moving in mocking patterns. “Such a shame when sophisticated systems turn against their users, isn’t it?”

I bare my teeth in a fierce grin, though my heart pounds against my ribs. “Keep talking. Every transmission gives me another chance to crack your encryption.”

The ship lurches again, throwing me against my station as the deck plates shudder beneath my feet. But I refuse to give up, refuse to let them win. They may have compromised our systems, but they haven’t broken us yet.

“Cirdox,” I say through gritted teeth, watching him coordinate the defense with predatory efficiency from his command position. His wings are mantled aggressively as he barks orders, tribal markings pulsing with battle-rage. “We need to—”

Another blast rocks the ship, and this time the impact sends cascading power failures through the tactical center. Through our bond, I feel his fury spike as he slams his fist into the command console, fangs bared in a snarl of frustration. Even as systems fail around us, he maintains the iron control that makes him such a formidable captain, his tactical genius shining through every calculated command.

“Maintain defensive formation!” he roars to the Brotherhood ships trying to rally around us, his voice carrying that edge of authority that brooks no argument. “Zara, reroute auxiliary power to the forward shields. Grig, prepare for emergency jump protocols.”

As my screens go dark, I realize with cold certainty that this is only the beginning of K’vex’s endgame. But watching Cirdox fight to protect his crew, his ship, his mate—it reminds me why I chose to bind myself to this fierce, noble warrior. He won’t go down without making the Eclipse pay dearly for their treachery.

Another blast rocks the ship, a catastrophic impact that sends cascading power failures rippling through the tactical center. As my screens go dark, a chilling realization dawns: this isn’t just an attack; it’s a carefully orchestrated execution.

Emergency bulkheads slam down, cutting off our primary escape route, the metallic clang echoing like a death knell. I feel Cirdox’s desperate need to reach me warring with his duty to defend the ship, a conflict that tears at my own soul. The deck shudders beneath my feet, a rhythmic vibration that signals the approach of boarding craft. Their cutting beams are already slicing through our compromised defenses.

The tactical center fills with smoke as another explosion rocks the ship. I hesitate, knowing that with only Grig, Zara and Cirdox on the bridge, every capable hand is needed. But as my neural implants register the cascading system failures, I realize our primary tactical controls are compromised beyond recovery.

“The secondary command center,” I say, fingers flying across my failing console. “Its quantum processors are isolated from the main system—they run on protocols I designed myself. K’vex never had access.” I lock eyes with Cirdox. “Someone needs to get those systems online or we’ll lose everything.”

Through our bond, I feel his understanding war with his protective instincts. We both know splitting up is dangerous, but with such a small crew, we need every advantage we can get. Zara and Grig are irreplaceable at their stations—keeping the ship moving and our weapons operational. Only I have the expertise to bring the backup systems online.

“Go,” he growls, though his wings shift with barely contained tension. “We’ll hold them here.”

My neural implants flicker and spark, struggling against the system-wide corruption, but years of surviving in the digital underbelly of the galaxy have taught me to trust my instincts over technology. The Eclipse wants this tactical center intact—which means we need to deny them that advantage. All our classified data is here: Brotherhood safe routes, colony defense codes, crew personnel files that could expose our allies.

I slam my palm against the emergency protocols panel, initiating a localized data purge that will fry not just the computers, but the quantum cores themselves. Better to destroy our own tech than let it fall into enemy hands. The console sparks and dies under my fingers, taking vital ship data with it. I feel Cirdox’s desperate need to reach me warring with his duty as captain. The ship-wide comm crackles with his commands as he coordinates defense from the bridge, his voice tight with barely contained rage.

Before I can move, he’s there, wings mantled possessively as he pulls me against him. His mouth claims mine in a kiss that’s equal parts dominance and desperation, fangs grazing my lower lip. The heat of his tribal markings burns against my skin as he growls, low and fierce. “Come back to me, little hacker.”

The intensity in his crimson eyes makes my breath catch, but there’s no time to savor the moment. The ship shudders under another impact, and we both know what’s at stake. I force myself to step back, though every cell in my body screams to stay.

“Protect the ship,” I tell him, my voice steadier than my racing heart. “Protect our crew.” Even as I say it, I know our separation is exactly what the Eclipse wants. They’re trying to divide us, to weaken the tactical advantage our bond provides. But sometimes the only way to win is to spring the trap—and make them regret it.