I helped him reconfigure the beacon, pushing its range beyond safe parameters, burning power we couldn't spare. Because being found mattered more than conserving resources. Because rescue was possible if we could just make ourselves visible through the debris and interference.
The signal strengthened. Grew clearer. Became directional instead of omni-directional—someone was homing in on our position.
"They found us," Zorn said, and his voice cracked slightly onthe words. Relief and exhaustion and hope all tangled together. "Mothership found us."
I sagged against him, feeling tension drain from muscles I hadn't realized were locked tight. Found. Not abandoned. Not left to die in the dark.
Rescued.
Through the viewport, I saw movement in the debris field. A shape resolving out of the chaos, sleek and powerful and bearing Mothership's identification markers. A rescue shuttle, maneuvering carefully through the wreckage toward our tiny pod.
"They're matching our trajectory," Zorn said, watching the approach. "Preparing to dock and extract us."
The rescue was professional, efficient, and achingly welcome. Docking clamps locked onto our pod. The hatch opened to reveal a rescue team in full environment suits. Strong hands helping us into the shuttle, medical scanners checking our vitals, warm blankets despite the artificial environment.
Safe.
I looked at Zorn across the shuttle's interior—both of us battered and exhausted but alive, and saw the same fierce joy in his expression that I felt building in my chest.
We'd survived.
And somewhere between the trapped medical bay and the failing escape pod and the declaration of love in the darkness, everything had changed.
No going back. No more running. No more using work to avoid feeling.
Just forward. Together. Whatever came next.
The shuttle pilot's voice crackled over the comm. "Mothership Control, this is Rescue Seven. Both survivors recovered. Medical status stable. Returning to base."
Captain Tor'van's voice responded, carrying unmistakable relief despite its professional tone. "Acknowledged, Rescue Seven. Well done. Dock directly at Medical—priority clearance granted."
I closed my eyes, let exhaustion finally catch up with me. Zorn's hand found mine, squeezed gently.
"Rest," he said. "You've earned it."
For once, I didn't argue. Didn't fight. Just let myself lean into the safety of rescue and the promise of tomorrow.
We were going home. Until the screeching sound had everyone screaming. A bright flash of light, and then nothing.
Chapter
Ten
ZORN
Consciousness returned in fragments.
First: the ache in my chest, like someone had filled my lungs with broken glass.
Second: the steady beep of medical monitors, familiar as my own heartbeat.
Third: the realization I was alive when I shouldn't be.
I forced my eyes open. Bright lights. Medical bay ceiling. Mothership. We'd made it. Somehow, impossibly, we'd made it.
My head turned, instinct, not thought, searching for Bea.
She was in the next bed, three meters away. Too far. Should be closer. I needed to see her breathing, confirm she was real and whole and not some dying hallucination conjured by oxygendeprivation.
