Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
VENNOX
The corridor swallowed the portable light disc's glow within a few steps in either direction, leaving us in a throat of moving shadow.
My sword had been propped against the wall beside the door when we left; I had picked it up without breaking stride, the grip settling into my palm the way it had hundredths of times before.
I walked beside Quin, her anger still humming beneath my scales like a plucked wire, while the shawra at my sternum painted the corridor walls and marked my shame for anyone with eyes to see it.
She carried the bio-analyzer in her hand rather than clipping it to her belt, the practiced hold of someone whose readiness had long since stopped feeling like a choice.
The soft glow beneath her shirt was just visible when she moved, pulsing in counterpoint to mine through the thin fabric.
Two spirits speaking to each other across a silence neither of us knew how to fill.
Through the bond, I felt her conflict. Anger, bright, sharp, and justified, but beneath it, a longing so specific it carried the shape of a planet I had never seen.
Earth. The word meant nothing to me, but the feeling behind it did: the ache of displacement that lives in the bones of anyone who has ever been torn from where they belong.
My ancillary heart hammered against my ribs. Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to reach for her, to pull her close and console her, but I was the source of her anger.
I would never do to Quin what had been done to me by imprisoning her within the cage of our joined spirits. The bond was not a weapon I would ever wield against her.
If preserving her freedom meant starving the bond the Spirits had chosen for us, then I would bear that burden without complaint.
I had seen the males who had lost their spirit mates to death.
Their shawras no longer shone with living light, only the dark scar of what had once been etched into their chests.
They still breathed, but something essential had been torn from them, leaving behind only the shell of the male they had once been.
If that became my fate, then so be it. Captivity had already fractured and splintered pieces of my spirit. Losing Quin would shatter what remained, yet I would endure rather than steal her freedom to spare myself.
The corridor opened into the cargo hold, a cavernous space gutted by the crash.
The ceiling had partially collapsed near the far bulkhead, spilling twisted metalloid across the floor in frozen waves.
Portable lights had been arranged in a rough circle, their pale discs casting overlapping pools of illumination across a workbench cobbled together from salvaged plating.
Vala and Tyrk stood over it, their backs to us, heads bent in concentration.
I felt Quin’s pace slow beside me. Her free hand found the front of her shirt, fingers pressing briefly against the fabric where the shawra pulsed beneath it, as though she could quiet it by touch. She had not been prepared for an audience. Neither had I.
Vala turned first.
His luminous eyes swept over us, immediately finding the shawra on my chest before sharing a look between Quin and me. “Looks like congratulations are in order,” he said.
Tyrk turned next. The Nomadican’s massive frame pivoted with a fluid grace that belied his size, and his golden eyes landed on the glowing mark with an openness that made my chest tighten.
He let out a low, appreciative whistle before he caught himself, the sound cutting off abruptly as he registered the silence that had descended over the hold.
"It will not always be so," I mumbled, shame burrowing through me like the thorned fibers of a floratrap root. "We will not be encouraging the bond."
Neither male questioned me. Vala’s expression did not change. Tyrk’s jaw worked once, the unasked questions visible in the set of his shoulders.
"This is what we came for," Vala said after a moment, turning back to the workbench.
I was grateful for the change in subject, where the attention was no longer on us.
"The power-transfer housing absorbed most of the impact during the crash, but the junction conduit inside survived.
" His fingers traced the intricate lattice of crystalline threads.
"The braided superconductive conduits remained intact, and the magnetic coupling collars are still functional.
We'll need to reinforce a few stress fractures before installation, but it should restore power from the reactor to the engine array. "
Tyrk leaned over the workbench, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the salvaged assembly.
He studied the crystalline threads for a long moment before giving an approving nod.
"Remarkable workmanship," he said. "The impact fractured the housing, but the conduit itself absorbed almost no structural damage.
Troken engineers know how to protect their critical systems." He glanced at Vala.
"A few reinforcements around the stress fractures, and I'd trust it to carry full reactor load. "
Vala carefully lowered the junction conduit assembly back onto the workbench.
"So would I." His expression sobered as he folded his arms across his chest. "Unfortunately, restoring power to the engine array is only half our problem.
" He looked from Quin to me before continuing.
"The freighter's engine compartment suffered a catastrophic fire during the crash.
The rillium chip reservoirs ignited, burning hot enough to destroy the injector manifolds, fuel conduits, and most of the reactor support systems before the suppression arrays finally extinguished the flames. "
A heavy silence settled over the cargo hold, carrying the unmistakable weight of bad news waiting to be spoken.
"The freighter's engine compartment suffered a catastrophic fire," Vala said. "The rillium chip reserves ignited during the crash. By the time the suppression systems extinguished the flames, the injector manifolds, fuel conduits, and nearly every usable fuel chip had been destroyed."
Tyrk scratched the base of one black horn. "We were hoping to replenish our reserves."
"We will not be replenishing them." Vala folded his arms across his chest. "Between the rillium remaining aboard my ship and the tellic and rillium chips recovered from the Moktian vessel, we possess only enough energy to repair the reactor, restore the engine array, break free of this planet's gravity, and reach Valose. "
His luminous eyes swept over each of us before settling on Quin.
"There will be nothing left when we arrive.
If the distortion field surrounding this world has intensified since our crash, the increased power demand could exceed our calculations.
" He paused, the silence stretching between us.
"Provided the field remains stable, we should reach Valose with little more than depleted fuel cells. "
Quin absorbed this with the steady calm I had come to expect from her. She did not flinch. She did not look away. She simply nodded once, sharp and decisive, and said, “Then let’s hope we have enough to get out of here.”
"The skiff," Tyrk said, straightening from the workbench, "has been sitting dormant for some time. Its power cells are nearly depleted, but they still hold enough charge to carry us beyond Spore Valley and back to your ship."
Vala lifted the junction conduit assembly from the workbench with the steady confidence of a male who understood every part of it.
I knew only that the component represented our best chance of escaping this deadly world.
Thin blue light flowed through the intricate crystal threads woven beneath its transparent casing, casting ghostly ribbons across the battered walls of the cargo hold.
I fell into step behind Vala and Tyrk while Quin walked a few paces ahead. The quiet undercurrent of Quin’s relief and anticipation flowed from her. She was eager to leave this deadly world behind, but Valose was never her destination. It was only another stop on her journey back to Earth.
I buried the ache beneath the discipline expected of every Valosian warrior and focused on the task before us.
If helping Quin reach home meant surrendering the greatest blessing the Spirits had ever granted me, then so be it.
A male’s first duty was to his spirit mate, even when it cost him everything.
Vala led us through the freighter’s ruined spine, the portable light disc in his hand carving a narrow path through darkness that smelled of decay and something even older, the mustiness of a ship that had been dead long enough for its bones to settle.
The corridors grew tighter as we moved deeper, bulkheads buckling inward where the crash had compressed the hull, and twice we had to climb over fallen support beams that barred our path like the ribs of some enormous beast.
The corridor opened abruptly into a space that should not have existed.
The crash had torn a massive hole in the freighter’s side, shearing through three decks and collapsing the bulkheads between them into a single cavernous void.
And there, nestled against the far wall like something that had sought shelter from the violence of the impact, was a small craft.
"There's the Troken skiff," Vala said, a note of appreciation entering his voice. "Class-four salvage craft."
I approached the vessel slowly, circling it with the same caution I would an unfamiliar weapon. The craft floated several hands above the ground silently without wheels or landing struts. Despite its alien design, it stirred a flicker of recognition.
"It hovers," I observed. "Like our rovers."
Vala smiled. "A similar concept. Different engineering."
Quin stepped beside me, her attention fixed on the sleek craft. “Your people have something like this?” Her anger had receded, replaced by a flicker of genuine interest.