“Rynn,” I manage, and my voice doesn’t sound like my own. It sounds broken. Terrified. “He’s hurt. Something—”
The bond pulses again. Fainter now. Flickering like a candle in a storm.
But still there.
Still alive.
I cling to that like a lifeline, like the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
“The generators,” I force out, straightening despite the way my hands are shaking. “They’re under attack. Heavy assault. Rynn and Henrok are—they need help.”
Suki’s face goes pale. In three years married to a warlord, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look scared. She looks scared now.
“Go,” she says.
“What?”
“Go.” She grabs my shoulders, gives me a shake. “Rusty and I can hold the War Room. That upload needs to finish—we’re at 47% now, we’re so close. But if the generators fall, if the shields go down, none of it matters. You need to get to them.”
“Suki, I can’t leave you here—”
“You can and you will.” Her voice is steel, her eyes fierce. “That’s not a request, Rocket. That’s an order from your big sister. Henrok is down there. Your mate is down there. If those generators fall, we all die anyway. So you get your ass down there, you save your stubborn noble, and you save my stubborn warlord while you’re at it.Go.”
I stare at her. My best friend. My sister in everything but blood. The person who knows me better than anyone except Rynn.
“Don’t die,” I whisper.
“Same to you.” She pulls me into a hug—fierce, tight, too short. “Both of you come back, you hear me? Or I swear on every star in this sector, I will find a way to drag you back from the afterlife just so I can kill you myself.”
“Deal.”
She releases me, and I’m already moving, checking my rifle’s charge, my backup power cells, the plasma grenades clipped to my belt. Through the bond, I feel Rynn—distant, wounded, fighting—and I let that feeling guide me like a compass.
“Zip,” I call as I head for the exit. “I need the fastest route to the generators. And I need to know what I’m walking into.”
“FASTEST ROUTE WILL TAKE YOU THROUGH THE EASTERN MAINTENANCE SHAFT AND DOWN THREE LEVELS. CURRENT STATUS AT THE GENERATORS: CATASTROPHIC. MERIDIAN DEPLOYED A HEAVY ASSAULT UNIT. ZATERRAN DEFENDERS ARE HOLDING BUT TAKING CASUALTIES. I AM DETECTING ELEVATED HEAT SIGNATURES CONSISTENT WITH PLASMA WEAPONS AND—” He pauses. “—CAPTAIN, I AM DETECTING VALORIAN BIO-SIGNATURES IN DISTRESS. RYNN’S VITALS ARE ELEVATED BUT STABLE. HOWEVER—”
“However what, Zip?”
“HE IS BROADCASTING A DISTRESS SIGNAL ON VALORIAN EMERGENCY FREQUENCIES. AUTOMATED. IT ACTIVATED WHEN HIS ARMOR’S MEDICAL SYSTEMS DETECTED CRITICAL DAMAGE.”
My blood turns to ice. “How critical?”
“I CANNOT DETERMINE FROM HERE. BUT THE ARMOR WOULD ONLY ACTIVATE THAT BEACON IF IT BELIEVEDITS WEARER WAS IN IMMEDIATE LIFE-THREATENING DANGER.”
I start running.
The corridors blur past me—obsidian walls lit by failing emergency lights, crystalline veins that flicker weakly. I hear the distant thunder of combat, feel it through the deck plates, through the walls, through the bond that connects me to the man I love.
Hold on,I send down the connection, pouring everything I have into it. Every ounce of love, determination, stubborn refusal to lose him.I’m coming. Just hold on.
The response is faint. So faint I almost miss it.
But it’s there.
A pulse of warmth. Recognition. And underneath it, barely a whisper:
Hurry.
