29. Nyra #2
I slam my fist onto the command key, sending a massive power surge through the ship’s environmental grid.
Every footfall sends a reverberation through the floor while the ship shifts power into the dampeners.
A deafening screech of tearing metal echoes through the med-bay and into the corridors beyond.
The ventilation ducts above the enemy squad shatter, raining down lethal shards of metal and heavy support beams. The soldiers are buried under the weight, their screams cut short by the absolute silence of the void.
"Area secure." I gasp for breath as I lean against the console.
K-Seven zooms past my shoulder and parks itself above the console, its tri-lens cluster cycling through a rapid damage assessment of the surrounding systems. "Unit is cataloging structural compromise in the ventilation manifold," it chirps, proving it was designated for exactly this kind of chaos.
"Atmospheric integrity in the adjacent corridor is holding, though Unit recommends against collapsing any additional infrastructure in Sectors Three through Five.
The ship's skeletal tolerance is approaching the threshold where 'creative demolition' becomes 'catastrophic self-harm. '"
"Noted, K." I wipe soot from my eyes.
"Additionally, Unit has been monitoring the Commander's biometric feed through the mark's passive relay.
His auxiliary pulses have stabilized since your last tactical intervention.
Unit believes your presence on the command deck is having a measurable calming effect on his autonomic systems." A pause.
The drone's primary lens narrows. "Unit finds this data point extremely inconvenient, as it suggests you are now medically obligated to remain in a combat zone. "
"You're a real comfort, Seven," I mutter sarcastically, swiping a streak of soot from my brow.
"Unit aims to serve," it chirps back faithfully, hovering just a little closer to my shoulder.
I feel Draevik’s adrenaline through the mark—a warm, golden thread that points straight to the crux of the combat.
"Excellent work, Nyra," he compliments with a fierce, quiet pride he thinks I don't notice. "I'm pushing further into Sector Five. There are more signatures heading for the auxiliary engine room. I will clear the path."
Before Draevik leaves the bridge, I drop to my knees beside the primary junction box, prying the heavy floor plate open with a grunt of effort.
I plunge my hands into the guts of the ship, bypass-linking the manual hardware directly into the digital command deck to ensure Selra cannot lock me out from the outside.
The ancient wires are coated in a thick, oily grime that smears across my skin, and a small discharge of static sends a puff of black soot into my face.
I ignore the sting, twisting the leads until the bridge terminal chirps with absolute authority.
I wipe soot from my forehead, my eyes darting between the thermal feeds and the structural blueprints of the auxiliary engine room.
The air on the bridge feels charged, crackling with the residue of Draevik’s power and the ship’s own awakening.
I sense his movement through the mark—a predatory glide through the shadows of Sector Five that makes my own heart rate quicken in sympathy.
"Nyra, they are setting charges on the secondary cooling line," Draevik's voice booms continuously from the bulkhead speakers, the sound of metal rending punctuating his words.
I return my focus to the central display, my hands flying across the glass to isolate the footage.
I zoom in on the sector, my teeth gritting as I spot the soldiers planting magnetic detonators.
They are committed to crippling the vessel to prevent our jump.
My salvage instincts scream at the sight.
I know that specific model of cooling line—it’s a pressurized system wrapped in a hyper-conductive mesh.
If they blow that, the thermal runaway will melt the floor plates within heartbeats.
"They’re using a standard pincer maneuver to keep you distracted while the demo team works." My fingers fly across the secondary console as I hunt for a counter. "Draevik, the demo team is tucked behind the lead shielding of the coolant tank. You can’t reach them with a direct strike."
"Then I will go through the shielding," he declares in a dangerous rumble.
"Wait," I interrupt, a sudden realization clicking into place as I study the ship’s plumbing. "Korr's fleet always relies on superior armor and heavy cover. They assume the environment is static. I will make this ship bite back."
I discover a malicious spike of code from Selra trying to lock me out of the auxiliary pumps.
"You are introducing paradoxes," Selra's voice crackles through the local comms. From the safety of the Carrion King, she is pushing her remote neural implants to the absolute limit, trying to sever my connection.
Her icy, detached tone quivers with the exertion of battling the ship's living logic.
"The ship's architecture will reject a human overriding its primary lockdowns.
Your control is mathematically unsustainable. "
She’s anticipating a flood, applying her usual cold, analytical approach to ship takedowns.
I will bypass her logic entirely, unleashing the ship's raw instincts.
I let out a short, sharp laugh as I let her ‘win’ the pump battle.
"Watch me," I challenge the empty comms, silently rerouting the command authority to the emergency purge valves instead. I let her think she’s blocked my move, keeping her occupied remotely while I prepare the real trap.
"Draevik, step onto the primary grounding plate!" I command. "Your organic armor is insulated, but their cheap plating isn't. I’m reversing the polarity on the magnetic containment field in that room!"
"Nyra, that will ionize the air!" he yells back, though I feel his immediate compliance through our bond.
"Exactly." My thumb hovers over the purge command.
I slam the key. Virex Prime shudders as the magnetic field flips.
In an instant, the armor of the Korr soldiers—iron-rich and highly conductive—becomes a liability.
The massive magnetic pull yanks the iron-clad soldiers off their feet, pinning them against the lead shielding they thought was cover.
Draevik remains planted, his boots securely anchored and his organic armor shedding the magnetic distortion without a flinch.
Their pulse rifles fly from their hands, clattering uselessly against the bulkheads.
"Now, Draevik!" I demand.
He moves like a streak of violet lightning.
With the enemy pinned and unable to aim, he tears through their formation with a fluid, instinctive grace.
I coordinate his path in real time, opening and closing internal shutters to provide him with mobile cover while isolating the remaining soldiers into manageable pockets.
Our teamwork is a dance of logic and violence, a perfect synchronization of my eyes and his hands.
Spotting a lone soldier reaching for a manual override on the cooling tank, I realize that pulling the lever will flood the room with superheated steam.
"Draevik, the one by the tank!" I yell.
Draevik spins, his hand engulfed with a concentrated orb of violet fire. He hurls it with the precision of a master marksman. The orb strikes the soldier square in the chest, the force of the impact throwing the man across the room just as the magnetic field dissipates.
"Threat neutralized," Draevik notifies, heavy and labored in my ear. "The demo charges are cold."
"I’m venting the ionized gas now." My movements are calm despite the adrenaline flooding my system. "Sector Five is ours."
I lean back for a microsecond, my heartbeat pounding out of rhythm. I feel Draevik’s presence through the mark—a steadfast, growing warmth that radiates approval and a fierce, protective affection. We are reclaiming this ship as a team. Confidence fills the spaces where doubt once lived.
"You saw that before I did," Draevik compliments. "Your instincts are as sharp as any tactical computer I have ever commanded."
"I just know how things break, Draevik," I respond as I check the long-range sensors. "And I know how to make sure they stay broken for the right people."
I find a new cluster of signatures at the debris field’s outer edge. Korr's advance fleet is closing in, and Selra is throwing everything she has into a final, desperate hack to disable our navigation.
"Korr's elites are pushing for the auxiliary engine room." My eyes harden as I dive back into the code. "He won't let us near that jump gate until he has his prize. Draevik, it's time to take the core back."