It’s still twitching, still making that unholy guttural sound, but it’sdown.
Naull whoops. Just once. A short, low punch of relief. I can hear it over the Meld, through the comms,in my bones.
“Move!” I bark. “We’ve got maybe four minutes before another wave rolls in.”
We don’t argue. We don’t hesitate.
We justmove.
Whiplash shifts into surgical mode, locking its feet and deploying the emergency stabilizers. Naull runs point, scanning the wreckage and triangulating the signature’s location. I route power to the precision cutters and start carving through what’s left of the hull.
Inside, it’s a furnace. Heat rolls out in waves. Smells like burnt plastic and blood. The survivor’s wedged between two buckled walls, half-buried in what used to be a medcrate.
“Female,” Naull calls. “O2’s low. She’s unconscious.”
“Vitals?”
“Holding. Barely.”
I don’t waste words. Just reach in with the support clamp, grip the edge of the debris, andlift. It groans, resists, then gives with a sickening crack. Naull grabs the body with practiced gentleness, pulling her free like she’s glass. He cradles her against his chest, his expression gone dark and focused.
“Pod’s prepped,” I say, slapping the controls on the emergency evac chamber.
Whiplash’s dorsal hatch opens. The small escape unit hisses out, its interior sterile and blinking with ready lights. We slide the woman inside, activate the vitals lock, and send the pod screaming back toward the base on a pre-set trajectory.
She’s safe.
For now.
Which leaves just us.
Whiplash retracts its arms, systems winding down into idle. The quiet is deafening.
I turn. And there he is.
Naull. Standing across the cockpit, one hand braced on the wall, the other still smeared with blood that’s not his. His eyes meet mine—and for a second, I forget to breathe.
The Meld’s still active. Dim, but open.
His exhaustion bleeds into me. So does the adrenaline. The grief. The hope. Therelief.
We’re both shaking.
We just don’t show it the same way.
“You okay?” I ask, softer than before.
He nods. “You?”
I nod back.
And then we juststand there.
Not touching.
Not saying anything.
But the space between us crackles louder than the storm outside.
