Page 9

Chapter 9

Neon Valkyrie

T he soft whir of cooling systems fills the cramped data hub I’ve claimed as my temporary sanctuary. Located in an overlooked maintenance corridor of the Obsidian Haven, it’s the perfect place to work uninterrupted—and to hide from the implications of what happened between Cirdox and me last night.

My neural implants cast a blue glow across the makeshift workstation while I analyze the Black Eclipse’s attack patterns. The encrypted data streams pulse across my enhanced vision, revealing disturbing patterns that even the Brotherhood has missed. Their strikes aren’t random—they’re methodical, targeted, and far too precise.

Like someone knows exactly where to hit.

I rotate a three-dimensional map of recent Eclipse intercepts, watching as red markers bloom across trade routes. Each point represents a Brotherhood ship lost, a crew captured or killed, precious luminore redirected to Eclipse-controlled territories. The pattern is too perfect to be coincidence or good intelligence. This is the work of someone who has access to the Brotherhood’s secure communications.

Someone like me.

Or someone like Kira.

The thought sends ice through my veins. I’ve avoided confronting this possibility since receiving that first impossible message, but I can’t run from it anymore. Not when lives are at stake. Not when Cirdox is getting worse by the hour.

I isolate a secure connection, routing it through seventeen different proxies before initiating contact. My fingers hover over the interface as doubt creeps in. If I’m right—if Kira is truly alive and working for the Eclipse—then reaching out could put everyone on this station at risk.

But if I don’t try, we’re flying blind against an enemy who knows our every move.

“Time to stop running,” I mutter, and send the message:

YOU CAN’T HIDE FOREVER, KIRA. WE NEED TO TALK.

I encode it with fragments of our shared past—the night we cracked the Helios banking system, the code phrase we used when we needed emergency extraction, the stupid inside joke about quantum fluctuations that only she would understand. Things only the real Kira would recognize.

For several minutes, nothing. Just the hollow echo of machinery and my own accelerated heartbeat. Then my neural interface flares with an incoming transmission:

HELLO, LITTLE SISTER. TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH.

My breath catches. It’s really her. The encryption signature is unmistakable—a variation of the algorithm we developed together years ago. My fingers find the keys again:

HOW ARE YOU ALIVE? I WATCHED YOU FLATLINE.

The response comes immediately, burning across my vision:

YOU WATCHED WHAT I WANTED YOU TO SEE. JUST LIKE YOU ONLY SAW WHAT YOU WANTED TO SEE WITH KAI.

I swallow hard, memories threatening to surface. But this isn’t the time for ghosts. I need answers.

WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?

A pause. Long enough that I wonder if she’s gone. Then:

EVOLUTION, NEON. WHILE YOU WERE RUNNING, I WAS LEARNING. THE BLACK ECLIPSE SHOWED ME WHAT WE COULD BECOME—BEYOND HUMAN, BEYOND THE LIMITATIONS OF FLESH. THEY MADE ME BETTER.

My stomach twists. I’ve seen Eclipse “improvements”—people turned into weapons, their humanity stripped away in service to something colder, more calculating.

THEY DIDN’T MAKE YOU BETTER. THEY TURNED YOU INTO THEIR ATTACK DOG.

The response flashes instantly, her rage palpable even through code:

SAYS THE WOMAN PLAYING PET TO A KYVERNIAN CAPTAIN. HOW’S THE MATE-BOND TREATING HIM? POORLY, I’D IMAGINE. BOND-SICKNESS IS QUITE DEADLY WHEN LEFT... UNRESOLVED.

I stiffen, fear and anger tangling in my chest. How does she know about Cirdox’s condition?

LEAVE HIM OUT OF THIS. THIS IS BETWEEN US.

IS IT? BECAUSE FROM WHERE I’M SITTING, HE’S VERY MUCH IN THE MIDDLE OF IT. YOUR NEW WEAKNESS. YOUR ACHILLES HEEL. YOUR KAI 2.0.

The comparison hits like a physical blow. I push back from the console, trying to steady my breathing while my implants register the spike in my heart rate, the flood of cortisol through my system. She’s trying to rattle me, and it’s working.

WHAT DO YOU WANT, KIRA?

A longer pause this time. When her answer comes, it’s deceptively simple:

I WANT WHAT WAS TAKEN FROM ME. I WANT YOU TO FEEL WHAT I FELT. I WANT YOU TO WATCH EVERYTHING YOU CARE ABOUT BURN, JUST LIKE I DID.

I’M NOT YOUR ENEMY. THE ECLIPSE KILLED KAI, NOT ME.

NO, YOUR COWARDICE KILLED HIM. YOUR HESITATION. YOUR FEAR. AND NOW YOUR PRECIOUS CAPTAIN WILL PAY THE PRICE. TICK TOCK, VALKYRIE. TICK TOCK.

The transmission cuts abruptly, leaving me alone with the hum of machinery and the weight of her threats. My enhanced vision automatically calculates probable attack vectors, escape routes, defensive positions—cold, tactical analysis that can’t begin to address the storm of emotions churning inside me.

I slam my fist against the console, the pain a welcome distraction from the fear clawing at my chest. She’s alive. She’s with the Eclipse. And she’s coming for us—for Cirdox.

Because of me.

“Neon?” Zara’s voice makes me flinch. I didn’t hear her approach—too focused on Kira’s words, on the implications of her threats. “We’ve got incoming vessels. Three Eclipse cruisers just dropped out of hyperspace at the edge of the system.”

Ice floods my veins. “How much time do we have?”

“Two hours, maybe less. Captain’s calling us back to the ship.” Her russet fur bristles with tension as she studies my face. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

More accurate than she knows. “I’m fine. Just... working through some data.” I close the console, erasing all traces of my conversation with Kira. “Tell Cirdox I’ll meet him on the bridge.”

She nods, but hesitates at the door. “Whatever’s eating at you, Neon—we’ve got your back. All of us. That’s what crew means.”

The simple statement catches me off guard. Crew. When did I start thinking of myself as part of Cirdox’s crew rather than just a temporary passenger? When did these people become something more than just convenient allies?

“Thanks,” I manage, the word feeling strangely inadequate. “I’ll remember that.”

As she leaves, I gather my equipment, mind racing through possibilities. Kira knows where we are. She’s probably the one who sent those Eclipse cruisers. And if she’s as integrated with them as I fear, she’ll have access to their full tactical capabilities. We’re outgunned, outmanned, and running out of time.

But maybe—just maybe—I know something she doesn’t.

I set a course for the Void Reaver’s engineering section, a plan already forming. If Kira wants to play games with our lives, she’s about to learn I’m not the same scared hacker who ran three years ago.

This time, I’m staying to fight.

The Void Reaver thrums with frantic activity as the Zara prepares for emergency departure. The tension is palpable, a living thing that crawls along my skin and sets my implants on high alert.

I make my way to engineering, where damage from our previous encounter with the Eclipse is still visible in scorched bulkheads and hastily repaired conduits. Grig, looks up from a diagnostic panel as I enter.

"Specialist Neon Valkyrie," he greets me, his amphibian throat-sac pulsing with each word. "Captain said you might need access to the core systems?"

"Direct access," I confirm, noting how even the reduced crew has adopted Cirdox's designation for me. Specialist sounds better than 'fugitive hacker,' I suppose. "I need to implement some defensive protocols before those Eclipse cruisers get here."

He nods, leading me to a secured terminal near the quantum drive housing. "All yours. Authorization Grig-Delta-Three-One."

The system recognizes his credentials, interfaces with my neural implants, and suddenly I'm swimming in the Void Reaver's digital architecture. My enhanced vision maps pathways, identifies vulnerabilities, catalogs defensive capabilities. The ship is impressive—Cirdox has clearly invested heavily in both offensive and defensive technology—but there are weaknesses. Places where a skilled hacker like Kira could slip through.

Places I need to fortify before she tries.

I dive deeper, fingers flying across the interface while my neural implants extend my consciousness into the ship's systems. I begin building defenses, layering encryption protocols and constructing honeypot traps that would catch most hackers.

But Kira isn't most hackers.

For her, I need something special. Something personal.

I pull fragments of code from my neural archive—pieces of old security systems we built together, snippets of programs we designed to be unbreakable. Then I twist them, corrupt them, transform them into something new. Something that will feel familiar enough to lure her in, but different enough to trap her when she takes the bait.

It's risky. If she recognizes what I'm doing, she could turn it against us. But it's the best chance we have of keeping the Void Reaver's systems secure during our escape.

"That's... impressive," Trill says, watching as complex patterns of code spread across the display. "I've never seen security protocols like these."

"Let's hope the Eclipse hasn't either," I mutter, adding the final layers to my digital fortress. "How long until the Captain wants to depart?"

"Thirty minutes. Most of the crew is back onboard, but we're still waiting on a few stragglers from the Haven." His wings shift nervously. "Those Eclipse cruisers are moving faster than we expected. They'll be in weapons range within an hour."

Not much time. "Tell Cirdox I need ten more minutes, then I'll meet him on the bridge."

As Grig leaves, I add one final component to my security system—a direct neural link that will alert me the moment anyone attempts to breach our defenses. It's dangerous, potentially exposing my own consciousness to attack, but necessary. I need to know immediately if Kira tries to hack us during our escape.

The connection forms, a ribbon of digital awareness that stretches from my implants to the ship's core systems. The sensation is familiar yet alien—like extending a limb I didn't know I had.

With the defenses in place, I make my way to the bridge. Each step feels heavier than the last as the implications of what's happening settle over me. Kira is alive. She's working with the Eclipse. And she's using everything she knows about me—about my patterns, my weaknesses, the people I care about—to hunt us down.

Because of what happened to Kai.

Because she blames me for his death.

And maybe she's right.

The thought catches me off guard, a sharp pain that has nothing to do with my implants and everything to do with the guilt I've carried for three years. What if she's right? What if I could have saved him? What if everything that's happened since—all the death, all the suffering—is because I hesitated when I should have acted?

I shake my head, forcing the thoughts away. Now isn't the time for self-recrimination. Now is the time for action, for focus, for keeping everyone on this ship alive long enough to escape the trap closing around us.

The bridge is a hive of controlled chaos when I arrive. Cirdox stands at the center, wings mantled with authority despite the obvious strain of the bond-sickness. His tribal markings pulse with fever, but his voice is steady as he issues commands. Zara moves between stations, coordinating the crew's efforts with efficient precision.

Cirdox spots me immediately, crimson eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. "Specialist," he acknowledges, voice formal but eyes conveying something deeper. "Report."

"Defensive systems are fortified," I say, matching his professional tone despite the urge to check on his condition. "I've implemented multi-layered encryption protocols and neural-responsive firewalls. If the Eclipse tries to hack our systems during departure, we'll be ready."

He nods, satisfaction briefly overshadowing the pain evident in his features. "Excellent work. Take the tactical station—I want your eyes on their movements when we break orbit."

The assignment surprises me—tactical is a senior position, one that requires both technical skill and the crew's trust. Judging by the lack of protest from the bridge officers, it seems I've earned at least a measure of the latter.

I slide into the seat, interfacing with the ship's sensors through my neural implants. Immediately, data floods my enhanced vision—the three Eclipse cruisers approaching in tight formation, the scattered Brotherhood vessels preparing for departure, the massive bulk of the Obsidian Haven slowly rotating against the backdrop of space.

"Eclipse vessels maintaining course," I report, analyzing their approach vector. "Current speed suggests intercept in fifty-three minutes if we maintain standard departure protocols."

"Then we won't be standard," Cirdox says, his wings shifting with suppressed pain as he moves to the command chair. "Zara, status of our missing crew?"

"Last shuttle is docking now, Captain. All hands will be aboard in five minutes."

"Good." He settles into the chair, his posture rigid with the effort of appearing stronger than he feels. "Neon, plot us a course through the asteroid field—maximum sensor interference, minimum navigational hazards."

I nod, fingers already dancing across the interface as my implants calculate optimal trajectories. The asteroid field surrounding the Haven is dense, treacherous—a perfect place to lose pursuers, but also a dangerous gamble for a ship the Void Reaver's size.

"Course plotted," I announce, sending the data to the navigation station. "It's tight, but if we time our entry to coincide with the magnetic storm forming in sector seven, their sensors will be effectively blind for at least twenty minutes."

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Excellent thinking, neural specialist." He turns to the helm. "Ensign Grig, prepare for emergency departure. All hands, secure for high-G maneuvers."

The crew responds with practiced efficiency, strapping into stations and locking down loose equipment. I feel the subtle vibration through the deck plates as the quantum drive spools up, preparing for the sudden acceleration that will tear us away from the Haven's gravitational influence.

"Eclipse vessels adjusting course," I warn, noting the subtle shift in their approach. "They've detected our power-up sequence. Intercept time revised to forty-one minutes."

"Let them chase us," Cirdox says, a predatory edge entering his voice despite the fever evident in his glowing markings. "Helm, on my mark... execute departure protocol."

The ship lurches as thrusters fire at maximum capacity, pressing us back into our seats with the force of our acceleration. The Obsidian Haven falls away behind us, its obsidian surface reflecting the cold light of distant stars.

Through my neural connection to the ship's systems, I feel the moment the Eclipse cruisers register our departure. Their engines flare as they adjust course to pursue, their weapons systems powering up in anticipation of bringing us within range.

"They're pursuing," I confirm, watching the data stream through my enhanced vision. "Calculating time to weapons range—"

My analysis is cut short as a familiar presence brushes against my neural defenses—subtle, probing, searching for weaknesses in the digital fortress I've built around the ship's systems. The touch is unmistakable, carrying the signature of someone who knows my coding patterns intimately.

Kira.

She's found us faster than I anticipated, her consciousness extending through the Eclipse ships' systems to test our defenses. I feel her presence slide along the outer layers of encryption, searching for a way in, for any vulnerability she can exploit.

"We've got company," I announce, voice tight as I redirect my consciousness to reinforce our digital shields. "Someone's attempting to breach our security protocols."

Cirdox's gaze sharpens. "Eclipse hackers?"

"Not just any hacker." I meet his eyes, letting him see the gravity of the situation. "It's Kira. She's on one of those ships, and she's trying to get into our systems."

A ripple of unease passes through the bridge crew. Zara's tail bristles, her ears flattening against her skull. "Kira? The one who—"

"Yes." I cut her off before she can finish. Now isn't the time for explanations. "Captain, I need to focus on keeping her out of our systems. She knows my patterns, my weaknesses. This is going to get... complicated."

Cirdox studies me for a moment, his crimson eyes seeing more than I'm comfortable with. "Do what you need to do," he says finally. "We'll handle the physical pursuit."

I nod, grateful for his trust, and turn my attention fully to the digital battlefield where Kira and I are about to face off. Through my neural interface, I dive deeper into the ship's systems, extending my consciousness to meet her probing attacks head-on.

NICE SETUP, VALKYRIE. I RECOGNIZE THOSE ENCRYPTION LAYERS. REMEMBER WHO TAUGHT YOU HOW TO BUILD THEM?

Her voice—or rather, her digital presence—fills my neural space, familiar yet distorted, like looking at a reflection in broken glass.

YOU TAUGHT ME THE BASICS, KIRA. BUT I'VE LEARNED A FEW NEW TRICKS SINCE THEN.

I reinforce our defenses, adding layers of complexity that even she might struggle to penetrate. But she adapts quickly, her attacks evolving, shifting to target unexpected vulnerabilities.

YOUR KYVERNIAN IS DYING, YOU KNOW. I CAN SEE HIS BIOSIGNATURE FROM HERE. THE BOND-SICKNESS IS QUITE ADVANCED. TICK TOCK, VALKYRIE. HOW MUCH TIME DOES HE HAVE LEFT?

I refuse to let her distract me, focusing instead on tracing her digital signature back to its source. If I can pinpoint which Eclipse ship she's on, we might have a chance to evade them more effectively.

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS, KIRA? THE ECLIPSE KILLED KAI, NOT ME. THEY'RE USING YOU, JUST LIKE THEY USE EVERYONE.

Her response comes as a vicious digital assault that nearly breaks through my innermost defenses. I gasp, physical pain radiating through my neural pathways as I struggle to contain the attack.

THEY SHOWED ME THE TRUTH. YOU HESITATED. YOU COULD HAVE SAVED HIM, BUT YOU WERE TOO AFRAID. TOO CAUTIOUS. AND NOW YOU'RE DOING THE SAME THING WITH YOUR CAPTAIN. WATCHING WHILE HE BURNS FROM THE INSIDE OUT, TOO SCARED TO COMMIT, TO TAKE THE FINAL STEP.

Her words hit harder than they should, striking at insecurities I've tried to bury. Is she right? Am I letting history repeat itself, watching another person I care about die because I'm too afraid to act?

No. This is different. This is—

"Neon!" Cirdox's voice cuts through my internal struggle. "They're charging weapons. We need those engines at maximum."

I force myself back to the present, splitting my consciousness between defending our systems and assisting with the ship's functions. "Rerouting power from non-essential systems," I report, fingers flying across the interface. "You'll have fifteen percent more thrust in three... two... one..."

The ship lurches as the additional power hits the engines, accelerating us toward the relative safety of the asteroid field. Through the viewports, I can see the first massive chunks of rock looming ahead, their jagged surfaces reflecting the dim light of the system's distant sun.

"Eclipse vessels in weapons range in thirty seconds," Zara announces, her voice tense but controlled.

"Evasive pattern Delta," Cirdox commands, his wings shifting with suppressed pain as he leans forward in the command chair. "Neon, status of our digital defenses?"

"Holding," I manage, though it's taking every ounce of my concentration to keep Kira at bay. Her attacks are becoming more sophisticated, more targeted—she's not just trying to breach our systems now, she's trying to trap me in the digital space, to isolate my consciousness from my physical body.

YOU CAN'T WIN THIS, LITTLE SISTER. SURRENDER NOW, AND MAYBE I'LL LET YOUR PRECIOUS CREW LIVE. KEEP FIGHTING, AND I'LL TEAR THIS SHIP APART FROM THE INSIDE OUT.

I ignore her threats, focusing instead on implementing the trap I've been carefully constructing while she thought she was winning. It's a risky move—if it fails, she'll have direct access to our most critical systems. But if it works...

NICE TRY, KIRA. BUT YOU FORGOT WHO TAUGHT *YOU* A FEW THINGS.

I spring the trap, a complex digital snare that uses her own momentum against her. For a brief, glorious moment, I feel her consciousness caught in my web, her digital presence struggling against the constraints I've woven around her.

Then pain—white-hot and all-consuming—lances through my neural pathways as she turns my own trap against me. My vision whites out, my body arching in the tactical chair as electricity seems to course through every nerve ending.

"Neon!" Cirdox's voice seems to come from very far away, distorted as if traveling through water. "What's happening?"

I can't answer, can't even breathe as Kira's counter-attack tears through my neural defenses. She's using my own connection to the ship against me, feeding back corrupted data that my implants interpret as physical pain.

DID YOU REALLY THINK IT WOULD BE THAT EASY? I'VE EVOLVED BEYOND YOUR SIMPLE TRAPS, BEYOND THE LIMITATIONS YOU STILL CLING TO. SURRENDER NOW, OR WATCH YOUR PRECIOUS CAPTAIN DIE IN AGONY.

Through the haze of pain, I become aware of alarms blaring across the bridge. The ship shudders as the first Eclipse energy weapons find their mark, depleting our shields and rattling the hull.

"Direct hit to port shield generator," Zara reports, her voice steady despite the chaos. "Shields at sixty-eight percent and falling."

"Continue evasive maneuvers," Cirdox commands, his voice strained but determined. "Get us into that asteroid field!"

I force myself to focus through the pain, gathering what remains of my strength for one final, desperate counter-attack. Kira thinks she has me trapped, defeated—but she's forgotten the most important lesson we ever learned together.

Never fight fair when lives are on the line.

I trigger the emergency protocol I embedded deep within the ship's systems, a last-resort measure I hoped I wouldn't need. It severs my neural connection to the ship abruptly, violently—a digital amputation that sends fresh waves of agony through my consciousness as my implants struggle to compensate for the sudden loss.

But it works. Kira's attack, channeled through my connection, finds itself suddenly untethered, her digital presence ejected from our systems as the emergency firewalls slam into place.

I slump in the tactical chair, blood trickling from my nose as my implants struggle to recover from the trauma. My enhanced vision flickers, data streams fragmenting and reforming as my systems attempt to stabilize.

"Neon?" Cirdox is beside me, one hand on my shoulder, his crimson eyes dark with concern despite the obvious pain of the bond-sickness. "What happened?"

"Emergency disconnect," I manage, my voice rough as if I've been screaming. Maybe I have. "Had to cut the neural link to force her out. She was using my connection to attack the ship."

Another impact rocks the bridge as an Eclipse weapon finds its mark. The lights flicker, emergency systems kicking in as damage reports flood the command displays.

"Shields at forty-two percent," Zara announces, her russet fur standing on end. "We can't take much more of this, Captain."

"We won't have to." Cirdox returns to the command chair, his movements fluid despite the fever evident in his glowing markings. "We've reached the asteroid field. Execute navigation pattern Epsilon-Three."

The ship banks sharply, diving between massive chunks of rock and ice that drift in complex patterns through the void. The maneuver puts solid mass between us and our pursuers, temporarily shielding us from their weapons fire.

"They're still following," I report, forcing myself to focus on the tactical display despite the lingering pain in my neural pathways. "But they're being more cautious now. Spreading out to try to box us in."

"Let them try." Cirdox's voice carries a predatory confidence that belies his weakened state. "This is our territory now. Zara, implement shadow protocol on my mark."

She nods, fingers dancing across her console as she prepares whatever 'shadow protocol' entails. I watch, curious despite the gravity of our situation, as she activates a series of commands that seem to alter the ship's energy signature.

"Shadow protocol active, Captain," she confirms, a hint of anticipation in her tone.

"Execute dive maneuver in three... two... one... mark!"

The ship plunges suddenly, thrusters firing in a complex pattern that sends us hurtling toward a particularly dense cluster of asteroids. For a terrifying moment, it seems we're about to collide with the jagged surface of a massive rock—then at the last possible second, the Void Reaver rolls, slipping into a narrow crevice that's barely wider than our hull.

"Kill main power," Cirdox commands as we settle into the shadow of the asteroid. "Auxiliary systems only."

The bridge darkens as non-essential systems power down, leaving only the dim glow of emergency lighting and critical displays. Through my enhanced vision, I watch as our energy signature diminishes, becoming nearly indistinguishable from the background radiation of the asteroid field.

"Eclipse vessels are continuing on our projected course," Zara reports, her voice hushed as if the enemy might hear us through the vacuum of space. "They haven't detected our position change."

"They're hunting a ghost," Cirdox says, satisfaction evident despite the strain in his voice. "Let them chase shadows while we slip away."

I lean back in the tactical chair, allowing myself a moment of relief as the immediate danger passes. My implants are still recovering from the forced disconnect, sending occasional jolts of pain through my neural pathways, but the worst has subsided.

"That was impressive flying," I admit, glancing at Cirdox. "I didn't think a ship this size could navigate those gaps."

A smile touches his lips, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "The Void Reaver has many talents, neural specialist. As does her crew." His gaze lingers on me, seeing more than I'm comfortable with. "Including you."

Before I can respond, my neural interface flickers with one final message, faint but unmistakable:

THIS ISN'T OVER, VALKYRIE. NO MATTER WHERE YOU HIDE, NO MATTER HOW FAR YOU RUN, I'LL FIND YOU. AND NEXT TIME, I WON'T BE SO MERCIFUL.