Chapter 16 The Cavalry #2
“Don’t ‘beloved’ me on an open channel, you—” Mother cuts herself off. “Fine. Polly, run your insane plan. But if you get my best courier killed, I swear by every star in this sector—”
“I won’t.” I look at Rynn. Through the bond: Ready?
For you? Always.
“Zip,” I say. “Let’s break something.”
“CAPTAIN, YOU SAY THE SWEETEST THINGS.”
Rynn’s bio-signature flares.
It’s not like before—the survival glow he used in the generator fight.
This is something else entirely. He pushes everything he has into it, his scales blazing like a supernova, and the mark on my neck—his mark—flares in resonance.
Heat pours through the bond, fierce and bright and absolutely fearless.
Every Meridian sensor in the system locks onto him like he’s another sun.
“Multiple target acquisitions!” Suki’s voice rings sharp. “They’re all retargeting—Polly, this is working!”
Through the fortress sensors, I watch the Meridian formation shatter. Ships that were locked on suicide runs suddenly veer toward Rynn’s position, pulled by targeting computers that can’t resist the blazing signature.
OOPS couriers intercept, weapons blazing.
“Nobody shoots my courier’s mate!” Mother’s voice cracks across the comm. “Keep them busy!”
Twenty seconds.
But the Eclipse isn’t turning. Voros is screaming something unintelligible over the broadcast channel—I catch “mine” and “burn” and “take them all with us”—but his ship maintains course. He’s overridden the automatic targeting. He’s flying manual, death-locked on the fortress.
“Zip, the Eclipse isn’t responding to the signature redirect—”
“I AM AWARE, CAPTAIN. COMMANDER VOROS HAS DEMONSTRATED SURPRISING COMPETENCE IN OVERRIDING HIS OWN TARGETING SYSTEMS.”
“Can you get into the Eclipse directly?”
“UPLOADING NOW. ALSO UPLOADING TERRIBLE MUSIC TO THEIR MESS HALL SPEAKERS. THIS IS PERSONAL.”
I grab Rynn, steadying him as the bio-flare takes its toll. He’s trembling, burning hot, pouring everything he has into staying visible.
Hold on, I send through the bond. Just a little longer.
I can feel you, he sends back. You’re magnificent.
Stars, he picks the worst times to be romantic.
“Target lock achieved!” Zip’s voice shifts from sardonic to triumphant. “THE ECLIPSE’S TARGETING COMPUTER IS NOW LOCKED ONTO ITS OWN ENGINE SIGNATURE. COMMANDER VOROS, I HOPE YOU ENJOY IRONY.”
Through the sensors, I watch it happen.
The Eclipse’s navigation system glitches—hard. The ship that was bearing down on us with unstoppable fury suddenly jerks, course correcting toward... itself. Toward the ships flanking it. The escort cruisers that are still slaved to its tactical network.
Voros’s scream cuts across the channel: “What—NO! Override! OVERRIDE!”
Five seconds.
But you can’t override physics. Not at ramming speed. Not when your own targeting computer thinks you’re the enemy.
The Eclipse slams into its escort cruisers.
The explosion is massive—chain reactions cascading through hulls that were never designed for this kind of impact. I watch millions of tons of corporate arrogance fold in on themselves, consumed by fire and the consequences of one man’s obsession.
Voros’s transmission cuts off mid-scream.
And then... silence.
The remaining Meridian ships break formation. Some surrender, killing their engines and broadcasting white signals. Most jump away, scattered to the void where they’ll become someone else’s problem.
“Targets neutralized.” Luzrak’s voice is calm, almost bored. “All courier vessels report minimal damage. One request for hull paint compensation.”
“Anyone else want to try?” Mother’s voice rings across the system. “No? Good.”
I collapse.
Not dramatically—I just... stop being able to hold myself up. My knees hit the generator room floor, and I’m distantly aware that I’m kneeling in blood and debris and the aftermath of everything we survived.
Rynn catches me before I fall further. His arms wrap around me, and I can feel his exhaustion, his pain, his overwhelming relief through the bond. We’re both wrecked. Both barely holding together.
But alive.
Alive.
“We made it,” I whisper.
His forehead presses against mine. Through the bond, love blazes so bright it hurts.
Because of you. Because of your family.
Our family now.
His laugh is quiet, pained, absolutely perfect. “Our family. I like the sound of that.”
“Get used to it, Lord Chaos.” I manage a weak grin. “You’re stuck with us.”
Mother’s ship docks twelve minutes later.
I know because I’ve been counting. Rynn is semiconscious in my lap, his bio-flare having drained everything he had left.
Henrok’s warriors are clearing debris and treating the wounded.
Suki’s voice has been a constant presence over comms, coordinating medical teams and defensive positions and somehow still finding time to make inappropriate comments about the mating bond’s timing.
When the generator chamber doors open, I expect a medical team.
I get Mother.
She stands in the doorway—Madge “Mother” Morrison, Senior OOPS Dispatcher, terror of courier cadets everywhere—and surveys the scene with the expression of a woman who’s seen too much and is done with all of it.
Bodies. Scorch marks. Her wounded couriers.
One long-suffering sigh.
“Let me guess.” She picks her way through the debris, Luzrak a steady presence behind her. “‘Simple delivery’?”
I laugh. It comes out more like a sob. “It was simple when I started.”
“They’re always simple when you start, kid.” Mother crouches beside me, and her hand—rough, capable, familiar—brushes hair from my face. “It’s the middle that gets complicated.”
Her eyes shift to Rynn, collapsed and barely conscious and glowing faintly against my legs.
“And this would be the ‘diplomatic package’?”
“Mother—”
She holds up a hand. Her gaze has landed on my neck.
On the mark. The mating bite that’s still faintly luminescent, pulsing in time with Rynn’s heartbeat.
“Polly West.” Her voice is flat. “Is that a mating bond?”
“In my defense—”
“I specifically warned you about attractive, emotionally complicated passengers.”
“You did.”
“I gave you the lecture. I made you watch the training video.”
“The training video was very informative.”
“I literally told you about the three couriers last month who—” She stops. Takes a breath. Rubs the bridge of her nose in a gesture I’ve seen a thousand times. “How far along is the bond?”
I swallow. “...Permanent?”
Another sigh. This one sounds like it comes from her soul.
“Of course it is.”
But then—and this is the thing about Mother, the thing that made her who she is—she crouches down and checks Rynn’s wounds with practiced efficiency. Her hands are gentle despite her exasperated expression. Professional despite her frustration.
“He fought well?” She asks it of Henrok, who’s appeared beside us like a protective mountain.
“Protected his mate. Took plasma fire meant for others.” Henrok’s voice is respectful in a way I’ve rarely heard from him. “Fought like he had something worth surviving for.”
Mother nods. Satisfied.
“Lord Valorian.” She addresses Rynn directly, even though his eyes are barely open. “I’m Madge Morrison, OOPS senior dispatcher.”
“Also known as Mother,” I add.
“Also known as the person who signs your girlfriend’s paychecks and authorizes her medical leave.” Mother’s tone is brisk, but there’s something underneath it. Something that sounds almost like approval. “Try not to get one of my best courier’s killed. The paperwork when people die is terrible.”
Rynn manages: “I will... do my utmost... ma’am.”
“You’d better. Also, you’re covering the damages to her ship. That’s non-negotiable.”
Luzrak appears beside Mother, his Kytherian features composed but his eyes bright with something like amusement. “The Valorian Fleet has arrived and is requesting immediate contact with Lord Rynn Valorian.”
“They’re also threatening to file seventeen separate diplomatic incidents if we don’t explain the situation,” he adds.
“Handle it.” Mother waves a hand without looking up from examining a particularly nasty burn on Rynn’s shoulder. “You’re better at the ‘formal coordination’ nonsense.”
“It’s my pleasure to interface with nobility while you continue... emotional management.”
“Someone has to keep these kids from dying of stupidity. That someone is me.”
I watch Luzrak step away, his calm voice carrying as he contacts the Valorian Fleet.
“Valorian Fleet Command, this is Coordinator Luzrak, STI Frontier Operations. Lord Rynn Valorian is secure and has completed his mission successfully. He is currently receiving medical attention and will brief you shortly.”
A pause. His voice takes on a dryly amused quality.
“Also, please note that Lord Valorian has formed a mating bond with an OOPS courier. I recommend sending your diplomatic personnel rather than your military personnel for first contact.”
Suki finds us ten minutes later.
She limps through the generator chamber doors with Henrok hovering at her back, one massive hand resting protectively between her shoulder blades. She looks terrible—covered in sweat and debris, favoring her left side, dark hair escaping from its tactical braid in a dozen different directions.
She’s also grinning like she won the lottery.
“Madge.” She stops in front of Mother, and for a moment, the years fall away. Two women who’ve survived too much together. Old friends. Sisters in everything but blood. “You actually flew all the way out here.”
“You think I’d miss the chance to check on my favorite defector?”
“I didn’t defect.” Suki’s grin widens. “I married a warlord and moved to his fortress.”
“Semantics.” Mother looks her over with critical eyes. “You look terrible. Also, happy. It’s confusing.”
“Three years on a rock with a territorial alien who communicates primarily through growling.” Suki leans into Henrok’s solid presence. “Best decision I ever made.”
“I noticed you’re still organizing operations during active combat situations.”
“Some habits die hard.”