Page 39

M ira adjusted the curve of her synth-leather gauntlet for the third time in as many minutes.

Despite the familiar weight of the custom armor against her skin, she couldn't shake the feeling of exposure as the shuttle prepared to dock at Novus III Station.

She'd spent months hiding, surviving, and now here she was, about to strut into the biggest gaming convention in the sector as if she belonged.

"Stop fidgeting," Davis murmured next to her. "Your costume is perfect."

She glanced down at her outfit a meticulous recreation of her NeuroSyn Arena Trials character, Salvation.

The dark purple and black armor hugged her curves while the utility belt carried dummy versions of her in-game tools.

Her hair was braided tightly against her scalp, tipped with purple to match the armor.

"It's not the costume I'm worried about," she admitted, her voice low. "It's being back in human space."

Davis moved closer, his larger frame blocking her from the others. Since his transformation had stabilized six weeks ago, he'd adjusted to his new body with surprising ease. He stood several inches taller now, broader across the shoulders, his eyes permanently ringed with gold.

"Anyone who gives you trouble answers to me." His voice carried that deeper resonance that still sent shivers through her when they were alone.

"I can handle myself." She straightened her shoulders, tapping the pulse pistol concealed beneath her gauntlet. "Besides, I have backup."

Spot chirped from her feet, his makeshift service unit disguise complete with regulation markings and a small antenna that bobbed with each movement. His optical sensors flashed twice in acknowledgment of her words.

"Remind me again why we're doing this?" Covak grumbled, scratching at the green paint covering every visible inch of his massive frame. The Vorrtan medic looked miserable in his orc costume. "This frexxing paint itches."

Jesh patted his arm, resplendent in her Valkyrie armor, silver breastplate gleaming under the shuttle lights. "Because we're a team, and teams support each other." She adjusted her winged helmet. "Besides, you look very intimidating."

"I'm always intimidating," Covak muttered, then waggled his eyebrows. "Just ask my mate. I intimidate her every night in our quarters."

"Get a room, you two," Ryke called from the front of the shuttle, adjusting the golden laurel crown nestled in his hair.

The reaper leader had embraced the Greek god costume with disturbing enthusiasm.

The simple white toga draped over one shoulder left most of his muscular torso exposed, the fabric ending mid-thigh.

"Approaching final docking sequence," Rann announced from the pilot's seat. "Station security has cleared our credentials."

Ryke nodded. "Remember the plan. We're here to enjoy the convention, nothing more. Rann secures the shuttle. The rest of us stick together."

"Except during the VIP demo," Mira added, her stomach fluttering at the thought. "That's just me and Spot."

The shuttle shuddered as docking clamps engaged. Hydraulics hissed as pressure equalized. Her pulse quickened. Six weeks ago, she couldn't have imagined returning to human space, let alone attending something like this as an invited player.

Davis had presented the tickets with studied casualness, as if acquiring VIP passes to the most exclusive gaming event in the sector was no big deal. It had taken her three days to drag the truth out of him. He'd pulled strings with his NOMAD contacts, calling in favors he'd saved for years.

"For you," he'd said when she'd asked why. "Because it matters to you."

The airlock cycled open. Rann went through his shutdown sequence as the others gathered their gear. She felt Davis's hand at the small of her back, a silent reassurance.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded, more to convince herself than him. "Ready."

They disembarked into the bustling docking bay.

The noise hit her first as hundreds of voices echoed against the metal walls, and announcements blared over speakers.

Then the smells recycled air tinged with food aromas from nearby vendors, machinery lubricant, and the distinct odor of too many excited humans in confined spaces.

Rann leaned in the airlock as they trooped out. "Have fun. Don't get into trouble."

Ryke laughed, the sound carrying across the bay. His costume had already attracted appreciative glances from passing humans. "When do we ever get into trouble?"

"Constantly," Rann replied dryly. "That's why you need me."

Mira looked up to scan the signs, spotting the convention center indicators. "This way."

The group moved through the station corridors, drawing stares and whispers. Most assumed Ryke and the others were humans in elaborate alien costumes rather than actual aliens in costume. The irony wasn't lost on Mira.

"Game-Con '45," Covak read from the massive banner spanning the convention center entrance. "Biggest gathering of nerds in human space."

"That's not what it says," Jesh corrected, nudging him with her elbow.

The entry hall bustled with attendees in various game-inspired costumes.

Holographic displays showed upcoming game releases, while vendors hawked everything from replicas to performance-enhancing supplements.

Spot stayed close to Mira's heels, chirping softly as his sensors constantly scanned the crowd.

She slowed down as they approached the security checkpoint. What if someone recognized her? Not as Salvation, but as Mira Ingram, fugitive clinical assistant who'd disappeared during an alien attack on her workplace?

Davis noticed immediately, his hand finding hers. "Head up. You belong here."

She squeezed his fingers, took a breath, and stepped forward.

The security officers barely glanced at their credentials, more concerned with checking for weapons than verifying identities. One bored guard ran a scanner over Spot, nodded at the service unit designation, and waved them through.

Once inside, the main convention floor opened before them. It was a sprawling landscape of booths, demo stations, and performance areas. The massive NeuroSyn Arena dominated the center, where tournament matches would be held throughout the weekend.

"Holy frexx," Covak breathed, taking in the spectacle.

Even Ryke looked impressed. "Humans take their entertainment seriously."

She checked the convention map on her comm unit. "The NSAT demonstration area is over there. That's where I need to be in an hour."

They moved through the crowd, her confidence growing with each step. No one was pointing or whispering about her past. Instead, she caught several appreciative glances at her Salvation costume.

"Salvation? Ohmygod Is that really you?"

She turned to find a teenage girl staring at her wide-eyed, clutching an official NSAT handbook.

"Ohmygod! It is you! Your armor is perfect," the girl continued, bouncing on her toes. "Are you competing today?"

Mira blinked, momentarily speechless. She'd never been recognized as her gaming persona before.

"Err yeah. In the VIP demonstration," she managed, pointing toward the arena.

The girl's face lit up. "Can I get a pic? Please? My friends will freak!"

Before she could reply, the girl slid in next to her for a selfie. Davis stepped back, a faint smile playing at his lips as Mira awkwardly posed with her fan.

"You're my inspiration," the girl gushed. "The way you took down the entire Red Faction squad in the Nexal-Four Championship? Legendary."

"Thanks," Mira said, warmth spreading through her chest.

After the girl disappeared into the crowd, Davis leaned close. "Famous already?"

"Shut up," she muttered, fighting a smile.

They made their way toward the NSAT demonstration area, where a large crowd had gathered around multiple gaming stations. Sleek neural interface headsets gleamed under spotlights, while massive screens displayed gameplay footage.

"Well, well. Look who couldn't stay away."

The voice slithered down her spine like ice water. Mira turned slowly.

Dennis Rettnor stood ten feet away. He was thinner than she remembered, his expensive suit hanging loosely on his frame. A security badge identified him as a featured speaker.

"I knew you'd show up," he continued, eyes cold despite his smile. "I've been tracking every gaming event in the sector, waiting for you to resurface."

Davis tensed beside her, his hand dropping to where his weapon would normally be. She placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

"I'm not hiding from you, Dennis," she said, steadying her voice.

His smile tightened. "Still delusional, I see. You're nothing without me, Mira. You think you can walk away after everything I invested in you?"

Six months ago, his words would have cut deep, confirming her worst fears about her worth. Now they bounced off like poorly aimed hits on her game armor.

"Invested?" She barked a laugh. "Is that what you call it? Controlling every aspect of my life?"

Rettnor's face flushed. "You ungrateful little -"

"Careful," Davis warned, his voice dropping to that dangerous register. Covak and Ryke moved closer, forming a wall behind her.

Mira shook her head at them.

"You're pathetic. You spent years convincing me I was worthless without you." She gestured to the NSAT arena behind her. "But here I am, invited as a featured player while you're desperately clinging to relevance."

Rettnor's expression twisted with rage. "You think these people care about you? They don't even know who you really are!"

"They know exactly who I am," she replied. "I'm Salvation, one of the top-ranked NSAT players in the sector. What they don't know is how you manipulated and abused your position and your staff for years."

His hand shot out, fingers closing around her wrist. "You little bitch -"

The movement was pure reflex. Jesh's recent combat lessons kicked in, and she twisted her arm free as her other hand formed a fist. She slammed it up and into Rettnor's nose with a satisfying crunch.