Tyrix
TYRIX
T he bitter tang of corroded metal filled my nostrils as we went further into the station’s interior. Each recycling vent we passed whispered with the sound of processed air, a constant susurration that set my senses on edge. The familiar scents of the public corridors - food, bodies, commerce - had given way to the sharper notes of industrial chemicals and decay.
Nalina moved ahead of me with practiced ease, her steps light and sure despite the uneven footing. I fought to keep my focus on our surroundings rather than the fluid grace of her movements.
A sudden burst of steam from a broken valve made her pause. She gestured for me to wait, listening intently to the station’s mechanical heartbeat. After a moment, she nodded and we pressed on.
I shifted sideways to navigate around a cluster of power conduits, my borrowed maintenance vest catching on a jagged edge. The cramped passage forced me to stay close behind her, filling my lungs with her scent.
It was intoxicating in a way I’d never thought of before. I had to focus to not lose sight of what I was doing.
Details emerged in the near-darkness: old tool marks on the walls, patched leaks crusted with mineral deposits, and more of those mysterious symbols we’d found in the hydroponics bay. The same precise, methodical script that suggested a scientist’s hand rather than random vandalism. They seemed fresher here, the edges sharper.
“Someone’s been through recently,” I murmured. “These marks are newer than the ones we found before.” I studied the pattern - how they seemed to indicate alternative routes, bypass points around security checkpoints. Almost like... breadcrumbs.
She traced the unfamiliar script with her fingers. “They’re appearing in more sections now. Leading somewhere.”
“Could be related to the research notes we found.”
“Or anything else in this place.” She shivered. “Come on. There’s an old environmental control room ahead. We can rest there for a bit.”
The control room proved to be little more than an alcove carved from the station’s bones, filled with ancient machinery that still hummed with residual power.
The sharp scent of coolant competed with the ever-present rust. Dusty displays cast a sickly green glow across Nalina’s features as she settled against a console.
“Maintenance gave me access codes last year,” she said, fingers moving across the controls with ease. “Said a friendly bartender was better than filing official requests when systems acted up. Kept her in free drinks for months.”
She winced, one hand pressing against her side.
“You’re hurt.” I moved closer, nostrils flaring at the metallic scent of blood.
“It’s nothing. Just caught myself on something back there.”
“Let me see.”
She started to argue, then sighed. “Fine. But make it quick.”
I kept my movements careful as I examined the shallow cut along her ribs. The wound already showed signs of healing, but it still worried me.
“Hold still.” I retrieved a small medkit from my belt, cleaning the cut with precise motions. My claws ghosted across her skin as I applied the sealant.
“That tickles,” she murmured.
I froze, suddenly aware of how close we stood, how perfectly she fit against me. Her pulse jumped beneath my fingers. The predator in me stirred, urging me to claim, to mark...
“My shift starts in two hours,” Nalina said hastily, stepping away. Her cheeks had darkened. “They’ll notice if I’m not there.”
“The bar’s the perfect cover,” I agreed, though everything in me rebelled against letting her walk back into danger. “You hear things others don’t.”
“If I learn anything important, I’ll mark Odra’s door - three lines, purple like your markings.” She winced as she shifted, the movement pulling at her side. “And you?”
“I’ll come to the bar. Landorian ale means we need to talk.” I moved closer, studying her injury. “That cut’s from the access panel, isn’t it? When you sabotaged the controls?”
She nodded. “Didn’t notice at the time. Too focused on making sure they’d find Xara.”
She turned back to the console, fingers moving across the ancient controls. “While we’re here, we should see what else this system can tell us.”
I moved behind her, reaching around to guide her hands. “Here. These maintenance subroutines give better access.”
She leaned back, her body fitting perfectly against mine as she studied the display. “Look at these delivery logs. Lab equipment being routed through maintenance requests. Keeping it off official manifests.”
My hands settled on her hips, steadying her. Or steadying myself. The heat of her bled through my borrowed vest, making it hard to focus on the data scrolling past.
Her breath caught as I bent closer, drawn by the curve of her neck. My markings burned where they pressed against her skin. Just a taste...
A sharp hiss of steam erupted from a corroded pipe nearby, making us both jump. The ancient console’s display flickered wildly, environmental warnings flashing red. Something in the station’s guts had finally given way.
“That’s the secondary coolant line if I remember correctly,” Nalina said, reluctantly pulling away from me to check the readouts. “If it fails completely, it’ll trigger alarms all through this sector. Bring maintenance crews running.”
“We need to move.” The last thing we needed was legitimate repair crews finding us here. But my hand lingered at her waist, unwilling to break contact. “I’ll check out Research Bay 23-A. You’ll be safer at the bar.”
She shot me a look that suggested she had opinions about my definition of ‘safer,’ but nodded. “At least there I can keep track of who’s watching whom.” Exhaustion showed in the shadows under her eyes, making my protective instincts surge.
“Don’t take unnecessary risks,” I said, fighting the urge to pull her close again, to guard her until she was properly rested.
“I can handle myself.” She touched the spot where I’d cleaned her wound. “But thanks for the concern.”
The urge to protect warred with respect for her capabilities. Both instincts felt foreign - I worked alone for good reasons. Attachment was dangerous in my line of work.
But watching her gather her gear, checking sight lines before moving toward the door, I knew it was already too late for such warnings. Whatever this was between us, it had taken root despite my best defenses.
“Nalina.” I grabbed her hand before she could leave. “When this is done...”
“Let’s survive it first.” She squeezed my fingers. “Then we can figure out the rest.”
She slipped away into the shadows, leaving me with the ghost of her touch and too many questions without answers. I gave her a few minutes’ head start before following, my senses alert for pursuit.
For the first time in my career, the mission felt secondary to protecting someone else. To protecting her.
I needed to focus. Dr. Gondon was still out there. Jevik held vital information. The Consortium’s experiments had to be stopped.
But as I made my way through the station’s dark arteries, my thoughts kept returning to Nalina. To the way she fit against me. To the trust in her eyes despite knowing what I was.
Focus. The hunt wouldn’t wait for whatever this was becoming.
I picked up snippets of conversation from adjacent corridors:
“...another whole section quarantined...”
“...seen Weber lately? Acting strange...”
“...keep your head down and your mouth shut...”
The station’s population knew something was wrong, even if they didn’t understand what. Fear rode the recycled air, mixed with the eternal scents of rust and ozone.
I passed through a major junction, noting the station personnel. They moved with military precision despite their maintenance coveralls. More of the Consortium’s puppets, like Grot.
Time was running out. Whatever they were planning, it was accelerating.
I needed to find Dr. Gondon. Needed to understand what the Consortium was doing to people here.
And I needed to keep Nalina safe, even if she’d hate me for it.