Chapter 10 Earned
Earned
Fiona
The navigation system purrs like a satisfied cat, every Earth component I’ve jerry-rigged humming in perfect harmony with alien quantum processors.
Through the viewport, stars streak past in ribbons of light—actual faster-than-light travel that should be impossible but is happening because I’ve made it work.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, watching the readings stay steady green. “It’s actually holding.”
Ja’war’s hands move over his controls with fluid precision, but I catch the way his shoulders relax for the first time since we’ve met. “Your modifications are performing beyond optimal parameters. The interface efficiency is remarkable.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” I lean back in the co-pilot’s chair, grinning. “I told you I was good at this.”
“You told me you fixed engines. This—” He gestures at the seamless fusion of technologies around us. “This is artistry.”
The ship feels alive around us, responding to both our touches now. Frost Walker has learned my patterns during the repairs, accepting me as easily as she does Ja’war. The glowing panels shift to warmer tones when I approach, and the neural interfaces no longer startle me with their sensitivity.
A soft chime indicates an incoming transmission. Ja’war’s expression tightens as he accepts the call, and a holographic display materializes between us.
The woman who appears looks like she could intimidate a black hole into submission. Steel-gray hair pulled back in a ruthless bun, eyes that could cut through titanium, and the kind of weathered competence that comes from surviving things that would break lesser people.
“Ja’war Frixt,” she says without preamble, her voice carrying decades of authority. “Care to explain why your route reports look like they were written by a drunk Vorthan with a head injury?”
“Mother,” Ja’war replies carefully, and I catch the fondness beneath his wariness. “I can explain—”
“Oh, I’m sure you can. Three years of ‘weather delays’ and ‘navigation recalibrations’ that all mysteriously happened near the same Earth coordinates?” Her gaze shifts to me, sharp as a plasma blade. “And you must be the mechanic who’s been enabling this romantic idiot’s stalking hobby.”
My jaw drops. “You knew?”
“Honey, I’ve been managing lovesick couriers for thirty years. You think I didn’t notice when my best pilot started filing route deviations to buzz the same small town every winter?” Her attention snaps back to Ja’war. “Speaking of which—mission status?”
“Medical cargo secured and en route to Kepler Station. Estimated arrival in fourteen hours.”
“And your stowaway?”
I bristle. “I’m not a stowaway. I’m essential technical support. This hybrid navigation system needs constant monitoring.”
Mother—and I can tell from Ja’war’s tone that she’s exactly what she is to all her pilots—studies me with calculating eyes. “You built that interface?”
“Jury-rigged Earth components to communicate with Xarian quantum processors, yeah. It’s holding steady but needs someone who understands both technologies to maintain it.”
“Interesting.” She leans back, and I catch a glimpse of someone tall and bronze-skinned moving in the background. “OOPS regulations allow technical specialists on critical missions. Ja’war, your girlfriend just became your consulting engineer.”
“She’s not my—” Ja’war starts.
“Yet,” she cuts him off. “Look, I don’t have time for romantic drama.
We’re under audit by some efficiency expert who thinks courier services should run like a factory assembly line.
Half my pilots are getting reassigned, and I need competent people who can think outside the box.
” Her eyes fix on me again. “Can you do more than just interface technologies?”
“I can fix anything that’s broken,” I say honestly.
“Excellent. We’ll discuss your permanent consulting contract after you deliver that medical cargo. Try not to let Romeo here get you killed in the meantime.” The transmission cuts off abruptly.
I stare at the empty space where her hologram has been, my mind reeling. “Did I just get recruited by space postal service?”
“Welcome to OOPS,” Ja’war says dryly. “Mother has that effect on people.”
“There are other humans out there?” The question bursts out of me, wonder and disbelief tangling in my chest. “How many? How long have they been in space?”
“OOPS employs hundreds of species across three galaxies. Humans have been part of the organization for nearly a hundred years—since first contact.”
A hundred years. While I’ve been fixing beat-up Fords in rural mountains, my species has been traveling between stars for a century. “Why didn’t anyone know? Why isn’t this common knowledge?”
“Your governments chose gradual integration. Selected volunteers, careful expansion. Your species has a gift for making impossible technologies work together—it’s why Mother was interested in you.” His voice carries warmth that makes me look at him sharply. “You’re proof that the program works.”
My head spins with the implications. Humans among the stars. Technologies I can’t even imagine. Entire galaxies to explore. “What else is out there? What else don’t I know?”
“Everything,” he says simply. “Worlds where the cities float in gas giant atmospheres. Species that communicate through color changes. Ancient civilizations that built stations around dying stars. Markets that exist in folded space where you can buy memories and bottled starlight.”
“And you’ve seen all of this?” Wonder makes my voice small.
“Some of it. There’s always more to discover, more routes to chart, more impossible things to find.” He reaches for my hand. “I’d like to show you.”
The navigation system chimes softly, requesting minor calibration.
I move to the console, but this time Ja’war comes with me, standing close enough that his warmth radiates through my clothes.
My fingers dance over the hybrid interface while he monitors the quantum readings, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world—working together, understanding each other’s expertise.
“There,” I say, watching the readings stabilize. “She’s happy now.”
“She?”
“The ship. Frost Walker. She’s definitely female.” I pat the console affectionately, and the bio-panels brighten in response. “She likes me.”
“Of course she does.” Something in Ja’war’s voice makes me turn. He’s watching me with an intensity that sends heat racing down my spine. “She recognizes what I’ve known for three years.”
“Which is?”
“That you’re amazing.”
The claiming bite on my neck throbs in response to his words, alien biochemistry flooding my system with hypersensitive awareness. Every nerve ending feels like it’s connected directly to him, responding to the rumble in his voice and the way his eyes dilate when he looks at me.
“Ja’war.” My voice comes out husky, affected by whatever the bite has done to my physiology.
He moves closer, backing me against the console. “The navigation system is stable?”
“Very.” I can barely breathe with him this close, his alien scent wrapping around me like incense.
“Good.” His fingers trace the claiming bite, and I gasp as sensation explodes through me. “Because I promised you something about what it truly means to be claimed by a Xarian.”
“The bonding ceremony.” The words come out as barely more than a whisper.
“The claiming bite was only the beginning,” he confirms, his voice dropping to that sub-harmonic register that makes my bones hum. “It prepared you, made you compatible with my biology. But the true bond—that requires consent, trust, and—”
“Ja’war.” I grab his shirt, pulling him closer. “I’ve been thinking about this since you put that mark on my neck. Stop talking and show me.”
His control snaps. One moment he’s standing carefully apart, the next he has me pressed against the console, his mouth crashing against mine with desperate hunger. The bio-panels around us flare brilliant blue, responding to our elevated heart rates and the pheromones flooding the air.
The kiss is nothing like the gentle claiming bite. This is raw need, three years of wanting and watching and waiting finally given permission to burn. His fangs graze my lower lip, and I moan at the sensation, my body arching against his automatically.
“Fiona,” he growls against my mouth. “Are you certain? Once we complete the bond, there’s no reversing it. You’ll be mine, and I’ll be yours, until one of us stops breathing.”
I look into his pale blue eyes, seeing the alien otherness that has terrified me just days ago and finding it absolutely perfect. “I chose you, remember? In the garage, in the forest, when I got on this ship. I keep choosing you.”
Something shifts in his expression, possessiveness and tenderness and desperate love combining into something that makes my heart stutter. “Then let me show you what forever feels like.”
He sweeps me up, carrying me through corridors that dim automatically as we pass, the ship’s consciousness giving us privacy. His quarters are spartanly functional except for the bed—oversized and covered in fabrics that look like they’ve been woven from starlight.
He sets me down beside it, and suddenly the weight of what we’re about to do hits me. Not just sex—bonding. Claiming. Forever.
“Nervous?” he asks, reading my expression exactly.
“Terrified,” I admit. “But not of you. Of how much I want this.”
His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking over my cheekbones. “I’ve wanted this for three years. Dreamed of it, planned for it, convinced myself I wasn’t worthy of it. And now you’re here, real and perfect and choosing me despite every reason not to.”
“You’re an idiot if you think I had a choice,” I say softly. “You’ve been mine since the moment you bled on my garage floor and trusted me to help you.”