Page 22
Chapter 22
Neon Valkyrie
T he acrid, chemical burn in my nostrils sears my lungs, mixing with the coppery taste of blood that fills my mouth—a souvenir from fighting back when they dragged me in here. My neural implants spark and misfire, sending jolts of white-hot pain through my skull with each erratic flicker of the emergency lights. Damn Eclipse bastards knew exactly how to scramble my tech, leaving me cut off from the digital world that’s been my sanctuary for so long.
The holding cell is a sick joke—a perfect cube of gleaming durasteel without a single flaw or feature to latch onto. No seams to exploit, no shadows to hide in, just endless reflective surfaces designed to mess with your head until you start doubting your own sanity. They think their precious tech can break me? I’ve survived worse. I’ve rebuilt myself from nothing before.
The acrid taste of blood fills my mouth as Kira’s transmission ends, my warning to Cirdox cut off by a brutal backhand that sends me sprawling. The cold metal floor of the Eclipse holding cell presses against my cheek as I struggle to focus through the waves of pain radiating from my scrambled neural implants.
“Get her up,” Kira commands, her synthetic voice carrying that terrible mechanical precision that still haunts my nightmares. “The lab is prepped and waiting.”
Rough hands haul me to my feet, Eclipse guards flanking me with military efficiency as they drag me through sterile corridors. My boots scrape against polished floors, leaving scuff marks that somehow feel like tiny acts of defiance. The antiseptic smell grows stronger as we approach what can only be their research wing, making my stomach churn with dread.
The lab doors hiss open to reveal a nightmare of gleaming medical equipment and monitoring stations. At the center stands a reclined examination chair, its restraints and neural interface ports leaving no doubt about its purpose. My heart pounds against my ribs as they force me into it, the cold metal pressing against my back through the thin fabric of my tactical suit.
“Comfortable?” Kira asks, running her augmented fingers along a tray of examination tools with obscene tenderness. “You always did hate medical procedures. Remember how you used to hold my hand during implant maintenance?” Her broken-code smile never reaches her enhanced eyes. “Such a shame we’ve grown so... distant.”
“Go to hell,” I spit, testing the restraints even though I know it’s futile. They’re made for containing subjects—subjects like me.
“Now, now,” she chides, selecting a neural probe from her collection. “Is that any way to talk to family?” The probe whirs to life, its tip glowing with an eerie blue light. “Let’s see how those implants have adapted to the mate-bond, shall we?”
The first touch of the probe against my neural port sends white-hot agony shooting through my skull. I bite back a scream, refusing to give her the satisfaction, but I can’t stop the way my body arches against the restraints. Through our bond, I feel Cirdox’s answering surge of fury and fear.
“Fascinating,” Kira murmurs, studying the readings on her displays. “The integration is far more complete than our models predicted. The Eclipse will be very interested in how your technology has merged with his... primitive biology.”
She adjusts something on the probe, and fresh waves of pain crash through my system. This time I can’t hold back the cry that tears from my throat. The room blurs around me as tears fill my eyes, but I force myself to meet her gaze.
“He’s coming for me,” I gasp out between ragged breaths. “And when he does—”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Kira interrupts, her synthetic voice carrying an almost gleeful edge. “In fact, let’s give him a proper invitation, shall we?”
My heart pounds as she activates the comm system, her cybernetic enhancements pulsing with cruel anticipation. “Cirdox Thar’Kal,” she purrs, the artificial warmth in her voice making my skin crawl. “I have a message for you. From your... mate.”
The way she says that last word, like our bond is some primitive curiosity to be studied, fills me with rage. But underneath that anger, raw fear claws at my chest as I watch those enhancements pulse with deadly intent. Her enhanced eyes study me like a specimen to be dissected, and I know exactly what the Eclipse has planned.
“Don’t play their game, Cirdox,” I shout, fighting against my restraints. “They’re trying to provoke you. Don’t—”
Kira cuts the transmission with a laugh that sounds more like corrupted code than anything human. The sound chills me to my core, because I recognize the emptiness in it—the same hollow echo that comes from losing your humanity piece by piece to their “improvements.”
They won’t just extract information—they’ll tear apart my neural implants, analyze how they’ve adapted to the mate-bond, use me as a test subject for their twisted experiments. The thought of being strapped to their medical tables, of having my mind and body violated by their “procedures,” sends ice through my veins.
Our bond pulses with Cirdox’s desperate fury, his need to reach me, and for the first time since Kai died, I’m truly terrified—not just of dying, but of being transformed into something inhuman, something broken, like what they did to my sister.
The lights flicker again, sending another spike of agony through my implants. I try to access the ship’s systems, to give Cirdox some advantage, but the Eclipse’s security protocols are too strong. My neural interface sparks and sputters, useless. All I can do is bare my teeth in a feral grin, hiding my growing desperation behind defiance. They can’t know how much this helplessness terrifies me.
“Still trying to protect him?” Kira’s voice carries that horrible synthetic sweetness, a twisted parody of the sister who once taught me everything I knew about hacking. An Eclipse technician adjusts something on the restraint panel, sending fresh waves of interference through my neural network. I bite back a cry of pain, refusing to give them the satisfaction.
“Just like you tried to protect Kai?” She crouches beside me, her cybernetically enhanced eyes pulsing with an unnatural crimson glow. The familiar accusation cuts deeper than any physical pain. “We both know how well that worked out.”
I close my eyes, focusing on the bond with Cirdox—that strange, powerful connection I never expected to trust. It’s my only lifeline now, my only way to fight back. I can feel him coming, his fury burning like a star through our connection. I just have to hold on, have to keep them distracted long enough for him to reach me. The thought steadies me, gives me strength even as another surge of interference makes my implants scream in protest. The mention of Kai’s name hits harder than any physical blow, memories flashing through my mind—his broken body sprawled across blood-stained concrete, his eyes wide and unseeing as Eclipse forces stormed the facility.
“He trusted you,” I spit, tasting copper and rage. “He was your brother!”
“He was weak,” she replies, her voice devoid of emotion. “Just like you’re weak. Clinging to outdated notions of family, of loyalty.” Her enhanced hand grips my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze. The sister I once knew is gone, replaced by this cold machine wearing her face. “The Eclipse offers power, control. Everything I deserve.”
Another attempt to access the ship’s systems sends white-hot agony through my skull. The electromagnetic pulse they used during my capture has turned my neural architecture into a maze of broken pathways and corrupted connections. Each interface attempt feels like razors scraping across my synapses, accompanied by bursts of static that taste like burnt circuitry.
“Your implants are quite sophisticated,” Kira muses, her artificial eyes scanning my neural ports with clinical interest. “The way they’ve adapted to the Kyvernian mate-bond... fascinating. The research division will be particularly interested in analyzing them.” Her broken-code smile never reaches those enhanced eyes. “Once we’ve properly extracted them, of course.”
She turns to the Eclipse technicians hovering nearby, their tools gleaming under the harsh medical lights. “Begin preliminary scans. I want a complete neural map before our guest arrives.” Her voice carries that terrible mechanical precision that still haunts my nightmares. “And do try not to damage her... permanently. We need those implants intact.”
The silence stretches like a physical weight after Kira leaves, broken only by the insistent throbbing in my skull where they’ve been probing my neural implants. Each pulse of pain sends fresh waves of nausea through me, but I force myself to stay conscious, to keep fighting. The bond with Cirdox flickers like a dying flame, growing weaker with each failed attempt to reach him through the Eclipse’s dampening field.
Time passes in a blur of agony. They’ve left me strapped to this medical gurney, surrounded by cold machinery and the steady beep of monitoring equipment. My implants sputter and spark, trying to interface with systems that reject them, sending jolts of electricity through my nervous system. But I don’t scream. I won’t give them that satisfaction.
“Fascinating,” one of the Eclipse technicians mutters, adjusting something that makes my vision white out momentarily. “The mate-bond has actually altered her neural architecture. The integration is far more complete than our projections suggested.”
“Increase the probe intensity,” another voice commands. “We need deeper access to understand the modifications.”
Fresh pain explodes behind my eyes as they push harder, trying to map the changes the bond has made to my systems. My body arches against the restraints, muscles spasming uncontrollably. Still, I don’t make a sound. Instead, I focus on memories of Cirdox—his wings mantling protectively around me, the warmth of his tribal markings against my skin, the fierce tenderness in his crimson eyes. They can hurt me, but they can’t take that away.
The door hisses open again, and Kira’s silhouette appears, her enhanced eyes gleaming in the harsh medical lighting. “Status report?”
“Subject is showing remarkable resilience,” one technician responds, his voice clinically detached. “But the neural stress is approaching critical levels. We risk permanent damage if we continue at this intensity.”
“Unfortunate,” Kira says, studying me with cold calculation. “But we’ve gathered enough data for now. Return her to the holding cell. We need her... relatively intact for what comes next.”
Two guards move to unfasten the restraints, their grip bruising as they haul me upright. My legs buckle immediately—I haven’t moved in hours, and the neural damage has affected my motor control. They drag me between them like a broken puppet, my feet barely touching the ground.
“Stay strong, little sister,” Kira whispers as we pass, her synthetic voice carrying a twisted echo of affection. “The real pain hasn’t even started yet.”
The journey back to my cell is a nightmare of flickering lights and intermittent consciousness. Every step sends fresh agony through my implants, which are now firing randomly, sending conflicting signals to my muscles. The guards have to practically carry me, my body refusing to cooperate.
When they finally reach the cell, they simply release their grip, letting me crumple to the cold metal floor. The impact barely registers through the haze of pain. I curl into myself, trying to contain the tremors wracking my body, each breath a struggle against the darkness threatening to consume me.
The door seals with a final hiss, leaving me alone in the dimly lit cube. My neural implants continue to misfire, sending random bursts of data through my damaged systems. But beneath the pain, beneath the fear, a spark of defiance still burns. Because I know something Kira doesn’t—I know exactly what a Kyvernian warrior will do to protect his mate.
And when Cirdox comes, the Eclipse will learn just how badly they’ve miscalculated.
Through the haze of pain, I hear distant explosions rocking the ship, each vibration traveling through the cold metal walls of my cell. My neural implants flicker and spark, damaged from Kira’s “interrogation,” but I force myself to focus through the agony. The tactical chatter filtering through the ship’s compromised communications tells a story that makes my throat tight with emotion.
Through the haze of pain, I hear distant explosions rocking the ship, each vibration traveling through the cold metal walls of my cell. My neural implants flicker and spark, damaged from Kira’s “interrogation,” but I force myself to focus through the agony. The tactical chatter filtering through the ship’s compromised communications tells a story that makes my throat tight with emotion.
It’s not just Cirdox coming for me. The whole Brotherhood is mounting an assault. I hear Zara’s voice, sharp with barely controlled fury as she coordinates attack vectors. Sweet, methodical Grig, his usually calm tone carrying an edge of steel as he calculates targeting solutions. They’re risking everything—their ships, their lives—for me. The realization brings tears to my eyes.
When did they become so much more than just a crew? When did Zara’s protective scolding and Grig’s quiet support become as essential as breathing? I think of all the late-night strategy sessions, shared meals, small moments of laughter and trust built day by day. They’re my family. And I might never get to tell them how much they mean to me.
My head throbs as another wave of pain washes over me, the world going grey at the edges. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on. The damage to my neural implants is severe—I can feel systems failing, connections fraying. But I have to stay conscious. Have to keep fighting. They deserve that much from me.
Through the static of failing comms, I catch fragments: multiple Brotherhood vessels engaging the Eclipse flagship, McCoy’s Planetary Police forces joining the attack, even Ta’vag’s diplomatic channels being used to prevent Eclipse reinforcements. They’ve united—pirates, law enforcement, diplomats—all to save one hacker who never thought she’d belong anywhere.
I press my hand against the cold wall, letting the ship’s vibrations ground me as darkness threatens to close in. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, though they can’t hear me. “I’m so sorry I might not make it home.” Home. When did the Void Reaver become that? When did these fierce, loyal, incredible people become the family I never thought I’d have?
The cell spins as I slump against the wall, my strength fading. But I smile through the pain, because even if this is the end, I know now what it means to be truly loved.