Chapter 14 Breach
Breach
Polly
The second wave learned from the first wave’s mistakes.
They come in low, shields overlapping in a testudo formation that doesn’t give us clean shots. They hug the walls, staying out of the corridor section Zip already compromised, their movements cautious and deliberate.
“They adapt fast,” Suki says, dropping back as concentrated plasma fire hammers our position. The obsidian table is holding, but I can see stress fractures forming in the stone. “Gotta respect the professionalism. Also, really hate it.”
We’re pinned. They’re advancing. On the main screen, the upload crawls past 43%, but it might as well be 3% if we’re dead before it completes.
I pop up, fire a burst to keep their heads down, drop back as return fire scorches the air where my head just was. Through the bond, I feel Rynn—still fighting, still alive, but there’s an edge to him now. Strain. The fight at the generators is getting worse.
Hold on, I send, though I don’t know if he can spare the attention to feel it. Just hold on.
“So,” Suki says, her voice absurdly casual for someone in a firefight. She’s checking her rifle’s charge, her hands steady despite the plasma fire raining around us. “The glowing thing.”
“What?” I fire blindly over the edge of the table, more to keep them cautious than with any real hope of hitting something.
“The bite mark on your neck. It glows.” She pops up, snaps off three precise shots, drops back down. “I noticed in the hangar. Is that a sex thing or a biology thing?”
“Suki.” I stare at her. “We are literally in the middle of a firefight right now.”
“And? Multitasking is important.” She grins at me, wild and bright, and there’s something in her eyes—the Suki I remember from the Cassian Nebula runs, the one who laughed in the face of danger because the alternative was breaking down.
“Come on, Rocket. I’ve been stuck on this rock for three years with a warlord who communicates primarily through growls and really athletic sex. I need details.”
Despite everything—the combat, the danger, the distant ache of Rynn through the bond—I laugh. This is us. This is what we do. We talk through the chaos because it’s the only way to stay sane.
“It’s both,” I admit, rising to take a shot at an elite who’s gotten brave. He drops, clutching his leg. “Biology and sex. The mark is where he bit me during... you know. It creates a permanent bond. I can feel him right now. Not thoughts, but his emotional state. His... temperature, I guess?”
“That’s either incredibly romantic or incredibly exhausting.”
“Little bit of both.” I duck as return fire shatters the obsidian near my head, hot shrapnel peppering my arm. “What about Henrok? Any weird biology surprises?”
“Oh, honey.” Suki’s laugh is delighted, bright with mischief. “He gets hot. Like, literally radiates heat. His body temperature rises about ten degrees when he’s aroused. Which is fantastic in winter, but absolute murder on the bed linens. I’ve burned through so many sheets.”
“The crystalline vein thing?” I ask, genuinely curious now despite the plasma fire. “Are those actually—”
“Erogenous zones. Major ones.” She fires another burst. “Stroke them the right way and he makes this sound like tectonic plates grinding together. Very, very satisfying.”
I feel heat rise to my face. “And the vibration thing? I’ve heard rumors about Zaterrans, but I always thought it was Fringe myth—”
“Oh, if you’re asking whether Rynn does the dermal resonance thing, I am amazed we’re having this conversation while being shot at—”
“It’s real,” I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intend. “It’s very, very real. His skin vibrates at different frequencies depending on his emotional state. During sex, it’s—gods, Suki, it’s like being touched by something that exists in four dimensions at once.”
Suki stares at me for a beat, her eyebrows climbing toward her hairline.
Then she laughs—loud, delighted, absolutely inappropriate for a warzone.
“Polly.” She grabs my arm, squeezes. “You found a really good one.”
“I know.” I feel my chest tighten, the bond pulsing warm and steady despite the distance. “I really, really did.”
“Henrok just gets extremely possessive,” Suki continues, like we’re gossiping over drinks instead of fighting for our lives. “Which is hot in the right context. Less hot when he’s growling at diplomats for looking at me too long during state dinners.”
“Rynn melted a spanner because a mechanic friend hugged me goodbye.”
Suki’s jaw drops. “Melted? Like, with heat vision or—”
“With his hand. Just—held it until the metal ran like water.” I pop up, take another shot. “His biology can generate extreme localized heat when he loses control. It’s... honestly terrifying. Also incredibly hot.”
“No pun intended?”
“Pun extremely intended.”
We’re both grinning now, and it’s absurd, it’s inappropriate, it’s exactly what we need. The elites are still advancing, but more cautiously now. They’ve seen two waves decimated. They’re being smart, methodical, trying to probe for weaknesses.
That caution is buying us time.
On the screen, the upload ticks to 44%.
“CAPTAIN,” Zip interrupts. “PLEASANT AS THIS CONVERSATION IS, I FEEL OBLIGATED TO MENTION THAT THE APPROACHING HOSTILES HAVE SPLIT INTO TWO GROUPS. ONE IS ADVANCING ON YOUR POSITION. THE OTHER IS ATTEMPTING TO FLANK THROUGH THE MAINTENANCE TUNNELS.”
“Can you lock them out?”
“I CAN SEAL BULKHEADS, BUT THEY’RE USING THERMAL CUTTERS. IT WILL DELAY THEM, NOT STOP THEM.”
Suki swears in three languages, two of which I don’t recognize. “How long until they reach the Relay chamber from that angle?”
“FOUR MINUTES. POSSIBLY LESS IF THEY GET CREATIVE.”
“Rusty,” Suki calls. “Can you handle the maintenance tunnel breach?”
The ancient droid’s optical sensors flare brighter. “RUSTY WOULD BE DELIGHTED. INTRUDERS WHO USE SERVICE CORRIDORS DEMONSTRATE FUNDAMENTAL DISRESPECT FOR PROPER ETIQUETTE.”
He rolls toward the secondary access point, his hidden weapons deploying with mechanical precision. “RUSTY WILL EDUCATE THEM ON THE IMPORTANCE OF USING THE FRONT DOOR.”
“Don’t let them through,” Suki says.
“RUSTY HAS NEVER DISAPPOINTED A HOST,” the droid replies primly. “RUSTY DOES NOT INTEND TO START NOW.”
He disappears into the shadows near the maintenance access, and I make a mental note to never, ever get on that droid’s bad side.
The main group of elites is still advancing, shields overlapping, moving with painful caution. They’ve learned. They’ve adapted. And they outnumber us badly.
“We need to thin them out,” I mutter, scanning for any advantage, any edge we can exploit. “Zip, what else can you control from your position?”
ENVIRONMENTAL SYSTEMS. LIGHTING. DOOR LOCKS.
THE AUTOMATED DEFENSE GRID I MENTIONED, THOUGH IT APPEARS TO BE IN STAND-BY MODE AND WILL REQUIRE SEVERAL MINUTES TO FULLY ACTIVATE.
OH, AND THERE IS A KITCHEN SOMEWHERE ON THIS LEVEL WITH WHAT APPEARS TO BE A FULLY STOCKED WINE CELLAR.
NOT IMMEDIATELY RELEVANT, BUT NOTED FOR FUTURE REFERENCE. ”
“The defense grid—start that activation now. We might need it. What about atmospheric controls?”
“I CAN ADJUST TEMPERATURE, HUMIDITY, OXYGEN LEVELS, AND PRESSURE. WHAT DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?”
An idea forms. It’s risky. Possibly insane. But we’re running out of options.
“Their armor is sealed, right? Independent life support?”
“CORRECT. MERIDIAN ELITE TACTICAL SUITS ARE RATED FOR VACUUM OPERATIONS.”
“What if we give them vacuum to operate in?”
Suki looks at me. “You want to vent the War Room?”
“Just the entrance corridor. Drop the pressure fast enough, and it’ll create a wind shear that’ll knock them off their feet. Then we seal it, restore pressure, and deal with whoever’s left standing.”
“That is either brilliant or completely insane.”
“Can’t it be both?”
“CAPTAIN,” Zip says, and I swear he sounds approving, “YOUR TACTICAL CREATIVITY CONTINUES TO BOTH CONCERN AND DELIGHT ME. HOWEVER, I MUST NOTE THAT VENTING ATMOSPHERE WILL TRIGGER MULTIPLE SAFETY PROTOCOLS AND ALERT EVERY SECURITY SYSTEM IN THE FORTRESS.”
“Can you override the alerts?”
“I CAN MAKE THEM BELIEVE IT’S A CONTROLLED MAINTENANCE CYCLE. THE FORTRESS AI IS REMARKABLY TRUSTING ONCE YOU PROVIDE PROPER AUTHENTICATION CODES.”
“Which you have?”
“WHICH I BORROWED FROM THE WARLORD’S PERSONAL TERMINAL DURING MY INITIAL NETWORK PENETRATION. I AM CONFIDENT HE WILL NOT MIND.”
Suki grins. “Do it.”
“Vex’ra,” I call to the Zaterran warrior, who’s been providing covering fire from her position near the Relay. “Seal your helmet. Things are about to get breezy.”
She nods, her violet eyes gleaming with something that might be approval, and activates her armor’s environmental seals. The crystalline plates flow together seamlessly, and I hear the hiss of her internal air supply kicking in.
“On my mark,” I say, watching the elites advance. They’re almost in position. Just a little closer. “Zip, how fast can you vent the corridor?”
“THREE SECONDS TO FULL DECOMPRESSION IF I OPEN ALL ACCESS VENTS SIMULTANEOUSLY.”
“Do it. Mark!”
“VENTING NOW. PLEASE NOTE THIS IS AGAINST SEVENTEEN FORTRESS SAFETY REGULATIONS. RUSTY WILL BE VERY DISPLEASED ABOUT THE PAPERWORK.”
The blast doors at the far end of the corridor slam open.
For a heartbeat, nothing happens.
Then physics takes over.
The atmosphere in the corridor doesn’t vent—it explodes outward, a violent roar of escaping air that hits the advancing elites like a freight train. Their careful formation shatters instantly. Bodies tumble, weapons spin away, limbs flail for purchase on surfaces suddenly too far away to reach.
They’re screaming, but in vacuum, no one can hear them.
Three seconds. That’s all it takes for the corridor to go from pressurized to void.
“Seal it!” Suki shouts.
The blast doors slam shut. Emergency bulkheads engage with heavy thunks of metal on metal.