23. Nyra #2
The wiring snakes through the hull in a stubborn, ancient tangle of Hegemony engineering.
I have to reach deeper into the housing, my knuckles scraping against the sharp metal edges until they bleed.
I find the central logic gate—the piece that directs the gun, telling it friend from foe.
With a sharp twist of my wrist, I snap the limiter.
I take a length of frayed wire from a nearby junction and wrap it around the output lead, forcing a raw, unfiltered signal into the turret's brain.
I jam the bridged connection into the primary port. A sharp spark jumps to my fingertips, stinging like a swarm of hornets, but I ignore it. The turrets above me whine to life, a high-pitched mechanical snarl that cuts through the gunfire.
"Turrets active!" I shout, pulling myself back up through the hatch.
The ceiling-mounted guns rotate with a predatory snap, locking onto the shimmering blue shields of the boarders. A hail of white-hot bolts rains down on the dormitory lockers. The shields shatter under the concentrated fire, the boarders scrambling for cover that no longer exists.
Scrambling out of the hole while staying low, I marvel at Draevik's seamless movements through the smoke from defense to a brutal, close-quarters assault.
He remains aware of my position, shifting his weight to create a lane for the turrets to finish the job while keeping himself clear of the crossfire.
The last of the three intruders tries to make a break for the ventilation duct, but I’m already there.
I raise my sidearm and fire a single shot that hits the wall just above his head, showering him in molten sparks.
He stumbles, and Draevik is on him in a second, ending the threat with a terrifying precision.
"Structural integrity in this sector is holding," I confirm, moving to a nearby wall console to stabilize the flickering lights. "I’m locking the dormitory doors. No one else is getting in or out of this wing."
I navigate the screen, confidence present now that was absent an hour ago.
I’m rerouting the internal sensors, setting up a tripwire that will alert us the second anyone tries to breach the perimeter.
I’m fortifying our position. I scan the readouts for the oxygen levels and realize I can boost the scrubbers by siphoning power from the non-essential lighting in the lower decks.
Draevik seizes the last boarder, his hand crushing the man’s rifle as if it were made of glass. He throws the scavenger aside and turns to me, his chest heaving. The carnage is absolute, but he looks at me with a quiet intensity that draws everything inward.
"Your input was... optimal," he concedes, the word sounding like a hard-won victory.
"More like a gamble," I joke as I wipe soot from my forehead. "As a scavenger, I know how to play the odds."
I step closer to him, the heat radiating off his massive body acting like a magnet.
Resting my hand on his arm, my fingers feeling the ticking of his backup cardiovascular system settling back into a constant flow.
He leans into the contact, a silent admission that he values my presence as much as my technical skill.
We stand in the ruined dormitory, the air heavy with ozone and the scent of victory.
Draevik listens to my suggestions for the next route without a hint of hesitation.
My actions finally reflect my worth as we move together, a singular force dedicated to taking back the ship that was stolen from us.
We push forward toward the primary lift, our footsteps echoing in a synchronized beat against the deck plates.
A thin, cold-metal taste marks this level, along with the dying breath of the ship’s lungs, but the heat radiating from Draevik’s side keeps the chill at bay.
I find myself adjusting my stride to match his, my movements mirroring his tactical caution.
It’s a strange, visceral synchronicity—as if the mark has finally finished mapping his heartbeats and merged them with my own.
Every time his heavy boot hits the floor, my own foot follows a millisecond later, a phantom limb moving in tandem with his massive frame.
"The bridge is three decks up." Draevik reports. "The internal sensors suggest Korr’s primary team has reached the outer foyer. They are using thermal cutters on the emergency blast doors."
"They’re wasting their time with cutters.
" I stop at a flickering wall terminal to pull up the schematic. "The Hegemony used layered obsidian-alloy for the bridge casing. It’ll just reflect the heat back at them. If I were Korr, I’d be looking for the auxiliary data port in the maintenance closet down the hall.
He can use a bypass kit to trick the ship into thinking there’s a hull breach, which force-opens the doors for evacuation. "
Draevik stops. He turns to look at me, his eyes exuding a sharp, newfound intensity.
There is no trace of the commander weighing a subordinate's words.
He listens as if my voice works like a primary system update.
I recognize the gears turning behind his gaze, his tactical mind absorbing my scavenger logic and weaving it into his Warlord strategy.
"You speak as though you have performed this breach," he observes, a dark spark of amusement flickering in his gaze.
“I’ve spent my life looking for the backdoors people forget to lock,” I joke, though my heart is anything but calm.
"Korr lives as a scavenger, Draevik. He thinks like I do, only with less imagination and more cruelty. He’ll try to exploit the evacuation protocols because he thinks the ship is vulnerable. We should beat him to that port."
"Then guide us," he declares.
The shift in our dynamic feels like a literal click, a gear finally catching after centuries of rust. I lead the way, slipping through a narrow service duct that bypasses the main elevators.
Draevik follows, his massive frame navigating the tight corners with a grace that suggests he has fully integrated my presence into his spatial awareness.
We move as a single shadow. When I pause to check a corner, he covers my blind spot.
When he prepares to breach a room, I’ve already disabled the alarms.
I find myself anticipating his movements before he even makes them.
I know when he’s going to shift his weight to the left to clear a line of sight, and I’m already moving right to cover the flank.
It is seamless. It rises as a shared control that I never thought I’d have with anyone, let alone a Warlord of the Hegemony.
We are operating with a singular intent.
We reach the auxiliary port room just as the intermittent hiss of a thermal cutter begins to bite into the wall from the other side.
I drop to my knees in front of the data terminal, my fingers dancing over the keys as I prepare a counter-virus.
The terminal is old, the keys sticky with centuries of dust, but I feel the ship’s ancient logic responding to my touch.
"I’m locking the port from the inside." The adrenaline makes my fingertips tingle. "I’m also rerouting the cutter’s power feedback. I am creating a surge that will travel back through their own equipment. The next time they pull the trigger, it’s going to explode in their faces."
"A fitting response." Draevik stands over me like an obsidian guardian.
He places a hand on the wall above my head, his massive arm creating a protective canopy that shuts out the flickering lights of the hallway.
I look up, my gaze catching his, and for a heartbeat, the ship’s alarms and the sound of the intruders fade into a dull roar.
I understand the man in the machine, and I realize he sees me as more than a survivor.
I built this defense alongside him, and as the tether in my chest pulls tight, the warm, grounding sensation confirms I have found my place.
I execute the command, and a muffled thud echoes from the other side of the wall, followed by the sound of shouting and retreating footsteps. The feedback loop worked.
"We have the bridge," I state, strong and fierce, as I hit the final command to override Korr’s lockout.
"We have the vessel," he agrees with a possessive, grounding warmth. "Now we just need to rid it of the last vermin."
"Not just a vessel," I correct him with a breathless grin, patting the console affectionately. "It's The Ship. Capital T, capital S. It earned the title."
Draevik’s eyes gleam with a dark spark of amusement. "The Ship, then," he murmurs.
I stand up, my shoulder brushing against his chest. The silence in the room is heavy with the weight of what we’ve become.
We are two ruins who found a way to stand together, ready to burn anyone who tries to tear us apart.
This victory exists as a testament to the fact that we took it back together.
The bridge doors hiss open, the heavy dark slabs retreating into the walls, welcoming us into Virex Prime’s heart.