Chapter 4
VAEL
There’s a rhythm to recovery — one I hate.
It’s the endless loop of machines humming, synapses twitching, muscles relearning commands they once barked without thought. My body’s an echo now, an unfinished translation of the warrior I used to be.
Every movement feels like betrayal.
I flex the synthetic fingers of my left hand. They respond half a second late. Just enough to make me want to rip the damn thing off and crush it under my boot.
If I had boots.
If I had legs that still felt like mine.
The door hisses open before I can sink too deep into the dark.
The scent hits first. Clean soap. Polished metal. Artificial calm.
Military.
Alliance-grade.
“Commander Draykorr,” a voice drawls — smooth, practiced, rehearsed for courtrooms and interrogations. “You look… better.”
I don’t look up. “Better than dead. Not by much.”
Commander Tarek steps into the room like he owns it. Which he probably does, on some classified ledger buried six systems deep.
He’s dressed in the newer black-on-silver uniform the higher-ups love — pristine, pressed, spotless. No battlefield dust here.
His insignia glints like a promise and a threat.
I finally lift my gaze. “Come to check the quality of your salvage?”
A tight smile. “Just following up on an asset the Alliance invested considerable credits in.”
I lean back against the propped-up gurney, every synthetic joint in my spine reminding me it hates this position. “You always were poetic, Tarek.”
His eyes flick to the chart at the foot of my bed. Then to the arm. The leg. The neural ports.
And then — to me.
“The recovery is going faster than expected,” he says.
I shrug. “Pain’s a hell of a motivator.”
He chuckles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve still got your edge.”
I narrow mine. “You didn’t come here for pleasantries. Say your piece.”
That gets him. The mask slips — barely — and he sighs.
“There’s been a breach,” he says. “Minor, but concerning. Certain encrypted files were accessed. Top-level research data. Early-generation cybernetics. Pre-armistice prototypes.”
I blink once. “Why come to me?”
“Because the leak originated on this base.”
I absorb that. “Thought this was a recovery station.”
His smile is all teeth. “It is. And more.”
I feel my jaw tighten. “And the ‘more’ involves me?”
He glances around, then leans in. “You weren’t sent here at random, Vael. This place was chosen for a reason.”
I already figured as much. “Cut to it.”
Tarek’s tone drops, and his next words are careful. Too careful. “Dr. Sorala’s proximity to the breach timeline is... notable.”
A sharp spike of heat flares through me, but I clamp down on it.
“She saved my life.”
“Did she?”
I don’t answer. Because I don’t know.
Tarek steps back, posture crisp. “We’re not accusing her. Yet. But we are watching. And so are you.”
There it is.
The real reason he’s here.
“You want me to spy on her.”
“We want eyes inside. You’re recovering. You have access. She trusts you — or did.”
He says it like it’s a chess move. Like Rynn’s just a piece on a board.
I stare him down. “She was a field medic. A damn good one. She wasn’t part of anything dark.”
Tarek lifts a brow. “People change.”
That much, I can’t argue.
“You’re asking a lot for a man you left in a wreckage,” I growl.
He doesn’t flinch. “Which is why I’m offering something in return.”
I wait.
“Access.”
That gets my attention.
“You want something from her?” he asks, already knowing the answer. “I’ll authorize clearance. Her personnel files. Medical logs. Deployment records. All of it.”
My throat goes dry.
Rynn.
I could finally find out what happened after Luria.
Where she went. What she did.
What she hid.
And maybe, just maybe — why.
I exhale slowly. “You give me full access?”
“Level Seven,” he confirms. “Redacted only where necessary for security.”
I nod once. “Then we have a deal.”
Tarek smiles like he just won.
And maybe he did.
But he doesn’t know me like he thinks.
Because I’m not doing this for the Alliance.
I’m doing this for me.
And for the ghosts that haven’t stopped whispering since I opened my eyes.
The door hisses closed behind him, and the room falls quiet again.
But everything inside me is screaming.
I close my eyes and picture her — not the woman who lies with military precision, but the one who once touched me like I was something fragile.
I remember the sound of her laughter over a cracked comm. The way she used to fall asleep on my chest mid-briefing. The promise in her eyes when she told me I wasn’t just another weapon.
And now I have to dig through her past like it’s a crime scene.
I should feel guilt.
But all I feel is need.
I have to know.
Because something’s not right.
She looks at me like I’m a curse. She flinches like I might explode.
And underneath it all — that flicker of fear in her eyes when I ask about the past.
That’s not about war.
That’s about something else.
Something deeper.
And I’m going to find it.
Even if it kills us both.