Chapter 6 Deck the Halls with Plasma Fire #2
The words hit like physical blows. Sixty families. Sixty sets of parents who’d scripted and saved to send Christmas love across the void, only to have it destroyed by a madman’s revenge.
“We’ll make sure yours get through,” Noomi promises, and the steel in her voice makes my alien instincts sing with approval. This is my mate, my partner, my—
“Captain Kraine?” Strava’s voice turns curious, almost shy. “Sir, are you the same Ober Kraine who used to run with Nova? The one who hit the Meridian bank convoy three years ago?”
Ice runs through my veins. Even now, even after everything, our old reputation follows us like a ghost.
“That was a long time ago,” I say carefully, watching Noomi’s face for any sign of how she wants to handle this. She’s gone very still, but there’s something in her expression—not shame, but a complex mix of pride and regret.
“Right. Of course. It’s just... you two move together like you’ve done this before. Like you were born to be partners.” There’s something wistful in Strava’s voice, and I realize she’s young enough to romanticize our old life. To see the legend instead of the wreckage we left behind.
“We were partners,” Noomi says quietly, and the way she looks at me when she says it makes my chest tight. “In every sense of the word.”
“Things change,” I add, but my voice comes out rougher than intended because the way she’s looking at me suggests maybe not everything has changed. Maybe some partnerships run deeper than time or distance or even the choices that tear them apart.
But as we escort the surviving convoy toward Titan’s Drift, I can’t help noticing that we’re still moving like partners. Still anticipating each other’s actions, still complementing each other’s strengths. Still fitting together like two pieces of the same weapon.
“You’re staring,” Noomi observes without looking away from her console, but there’s amusement in her voice.
“I’m appreciating,” I correct, letting my gaze trace the elegant line of her neck as she works. “Three years, and you still pilot like you’re making love to the void.”
“Careful, Captain.” Her voice drops to that husky register that used to drive me wild. “Keep talking like that and I might think you’re flirting with me.”
“Maybe I am.” The admission slips out before I can stop it, weighted with two years of wanting and the growing certainty that whatever broke us, it didn’t kill what we were together. “Maybe I never stopped.”
The question is whether she notices it too.
Titan’s Drift Colony clings to the side of an asteroid like a metal parasite, its lights warm against the cold void.
It’s a hard place, carved from rock and determination by people who came out here for the rare minerals and stayed for the freedom.
The kind of place where Christmas matters because it’s one of the few connections to the homes they left behind.
The docking bay is crowded with families, word having spread that the Christmas convoy was attacked.
Children press against the viewing ports while parents try to maintain hope that their packages survived.
The sight of two ships instead of five tells its own story, and I can smell the disappointment even through the atmospheric recyclers.
“Attention Colony residents,” the station controller announces. “Christmas convoy has docked successfully. Package distribution will begin in thirty minutes in the main cargo bay.”
The cheers that go up make my chest tight with something that might be hope. These people have so little, but they’re celebrating anyway. Finding joy in what survived instead of mourning what was lost.
“Come on,” Noomi says, hefting one of the packages we’re personally delivering. “Let’s go make some Christmas magic.”
The cargo bay has been transformed into something between a warehouse and a celebration.
Families cluster around the distribution tables while volunteers sort packages with efficient care.
Someone has rigged speakers to play ancient Earth Christmas music, and the smell of hot chocolate and synthetic cookies mingles with recycled air.
“Mommy, is our package here?” A little girl tugs on her mother’s sleeve, eyes bright with hope and trust that makes my throat tight.
“We’ll see, sweetheart. Sometimes packages get delayed.”
I watch Noomi’s face as she processes the scene—the careful hope, the barely contained disappointment, the way these people are preparing themselves for loss while still clinging to possibility.
Her scent shifts to something complex and painful, and I realize she’s seeing every family we couldn’t save today.
“Hey,” I murmur, close enough that my breath stirs the hair at her temple. “We saved the ones we could. That matters.”
“Does it?” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Those families whose packages are stuck on damaged ships, Ober. Children who won’t understand why their presents didn’t come on time.”
“And dozens of families who will have Christmas because you insisted on flying into a warzone.” I resist the urge to touch her, to offer physical comfort she might not want. “The damaged ships will make it to Junction One.”
“You’re right, Mother will find a way to get those packages delivered, even if it’s a day or two late. That’s what OOPS does—we deliver, eventually,” she replies with a tired smile.
“Package for the Hendricks family,” Strava calls out, and a woman near the back of the crowd gasps.
“That’s us! Sarah, that’s for Daddy!” The little girl bounces with excitement as her mother approaches the table, tears streaming down her face.
We deliver our package to a mining foreman whose wife sent him her grandmother’s scarf along with recordings from their twin boys. He cradles the container like it contains his entire world, and maybe it does.
“You saved Christmas,” he tells us, his voice rough with emotion. “Don’t know how you found us or why you bothered, but you saved Christmas for my boys.”
“It’s what she does,” I say, unable to keep the pride from my voice as I watch Noomi ensure every family gets their moment. “She saves things.”
Even broken pirates, apparently. Even relationships that should have died in the void between stars.
“Captain Kraine? Courier Jaxson?” Strava appears at our elbow, her young face serious. “I hate to interrupt, but there’s an incoming transmission. Priority One. It’s... it’s for you specifically.”
My blood goes cold. “Source?”
“Unknown. But the encryption signature...” She swallows hard. “It matches the ships that attacked us.”
Krax. Of course. He’s been watching, waiting for the perfect moment to twist the knife.
We make our way to Strava’s ship, the Lucky Strike, where her communications array displays a familiar and unwelcome face. Krax Korvain’s translucent features fill the screen, phosphorescent circulatory system pulsing with cold satisfaction.
“Hello, Nova,” he says, and I have to fight the urge to growl at his deliberate use of her old name. “I do hope you enjoyed your little rescue operation. Such noble work. Such... redemptive effort.”
“It’s Noomi,” I say firmly, stepping protectively closer to her. “And if you have something to say, say it.”
“Ah, the protective mate.” Krax’s smile could freeze plasma. “How charming. Tell me, Captain Kraine, do you know what your precious partner did three years ago? The choice she made that destroyed my family?”
My tail lashes involuntarily. I can smell Noomi’s pain, sharp and bitter and carefully controlled. Whatever happened three years ago, it’s still bleeding.
“I know she does the right thing,” I say, my voice dropping to the command register that’s ended more arguments than I can count. “And I know that whatever you lost, it doesn’t justify terrorizing innocent families.”
“Innocent?” Krax laughs, and the sound is like breaking glass. “Were my twin daughters innocent when their mother took them and disappeared? Were they innocent when Sera decided that discovering my ‘true nature’ made me unfit to be their father?”
My enhanced senses pick up the spike of anguish in Noomi’s scent, the way her heartbeat falters. Whatever choice she made, she’s still carrying the weight of its consequences.
“Your choice,” Krax continues, addressing her directly. “Send my criminal records to the authorities instead of selling them for profit. Your righteousness destroyed my carefully maintained life and cost me everything I loved. So now I’m returning the favor.”
The transmission cuts, leaving us staring at a blank screen while the sounds of Christmas celebration filter through the ship’s hull. Families reuniting with love sent across impossible distances, while Krax destroys the same connections for others.
“Noomi,” I say quietly, my voice carrying two years of questions and growing understanding. “What exactly did you do?”
She’s quiet for so long I think she won’t answer. When she finally speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper.
“I chose to be better than we were. And it destroyed everything.”
The words hit like vacuum exposure, sudden and devastating. Because I’m beginning to understand what she’s not saying—that whatever choice broke us, it wasn’t about me at all.
It was about who she wanted to become. And I wasn’t strong enough to become it with her.
“Tell me,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “Tell me what really happened three years ago.”
She meets my eyes, and I see two years of guilt and regret and the terrible weight of trying to do the right thing in a universe that punishes good intentions.
“I chose justice over love,” she whispers. “And I’ve been living with the consequences ever since.”
But as I study her face in the soft light of the Lucky Strike’s bridge, I realize something that makes my heart skip a beat. She’s not talking about choosing justice over love for Krax’s family.
She’s talking about choosing justice over love for us, and the horror dawns on me. “I chose the greater greed.”