Aris
I’m almost at the entrance when I realize Tynrax still isn’t with me.
“Commander?” I turn, sweeping my light back down the corridor. Empty. Just worked stone and geometric patterns and no tall Zephyrian engineer. “Tynrax?”
Nothing.
He said he’d only be a moment. That was at least five minutes ago. Maybe longer. I was talking to myself about crystallization patterns and not paying attention to whether he’d caught up.
Worry prickles along my spine. This is an ancient facility. Unknown stability. Potential hazards we haven’t identified yet. And he’s somewhere in here alone.
“Okay, going back.” I say it out loud because talking helps me think. “He probably just got absorbed in examining something. Engineers and shiny old tech. Some things are universal.”
I jog back down the corridor, checking side passages. Most of them are just shallow alcoves. Structural features, not actual rooms. But then I find one that goes deeper. A narrow opening I didn’t notice on our way to the main chamber.
Violet light blazes from inside. Bright. Too bright. And the hum intensifies until it becomes a low thrum against my ribs.
“Tynrax?” I run toward the light. “Commander, are you...”
The side passage opens into a small chamber. The walls glow violet, patterns lighting up in cascading sequences. In the center, there’s a pedestal with some kind of interface panel. And on the floor beside it, scorch marks. Dark streaks across the stone like something burned hot and fast.
No Tynrax.
“Fusion hell.” My pulse quickens. “Where are you?”
The hum grows louder. The walls brighten further, and I watched the patterns spread. Activating. Like the facility is waking up in response to...
A sound interrupts my thoughts. Not from inside the chamber. From the main corridor. Behind me, toward the entrance.
Snarling. Clicking. Multiple sources.
“Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me.” I run back toward the main corridor, abandoning the mystery of Tynrax’s disappearance in favor of not getting eaten by mysterious predators. “This day cannot possibly get worse.”
The snarling gets louder as I reach the main corridor. Movement near the entrance caches my eye. Multiple shapes. Six-legged, low to the ground, mandibles clicking as they test the air.
They’ve been following us. I realize it with cold certainty. Following our scent, our heat signatures, waiting for the right moment to attack. The energy surge must have agitated them, driven them from stalking to action.
And Sarpi. Standing just inside the entrance with his sidearm drawn, facing at least six of them.
“Where’s the Commander?” he shouts when he sees me.
“I don’t know! He was checking a side passage and then he just...” I don’t finish because the lead hunter lurches at Sarpi.
He fires. Hits it in the shoulder joint. The creature staggers but doesn’t stop. Its armored carapace deflects most of the impact.
Two more rush from the sides. Sarpi fires again, backing up, but there are too many. They’re spreading out, flanking, working as a coordinated pack.
I’m backing up, fumbling for the sidearm at my hip. My hands are shaking. I’m a geologist, not a soldier. Sarpi’s already shooting and they’re not stopping. More guns won’t help. But I draw it anyway because doing nothing is worse.
One of the hunters circles wide, trying to flank us. Its six legs carry it across the stone floor fast. Faster than I can run, definitely faster than I can think of a clever solution.
And then I hear it.
A sound that isn’t human. Isn’t Zephyrian. Isn’t anything I’ve heard before.
Something between a roar and a scream that makes every hair on my body stand straight up.
The hunters freeze. Turn toward the sound. Even Sarpi stops moving, blaster half-raised.
Tynrax emerges from a side passage.
His markings blaze violet light so bright I have to squint. Not the soft controlled glow I’m used to.
This is like staring at high-beams. The patterns spread beyond their normal boundaries, across his cheekbones, down his neck, covering his hands in intricate traceries that pulse and flicker.
His eyes glow pure violet. No iris. No pupil. Just light.
And the way he moves is wrong.
Too fast. Too smooth. Like gravity doesn’t quite apply to him the same way anymore.
“Commander?” Sarpi’s voice cracks. “Sir?”
Tynrax doesn’t answer. Just makes that sound again, that inhuman roar, and launches himself at the nearest hunter.
What happens next is like watching a natural disaster in fast-forward.
He hits the first hunter mid-leap. His hands close around its mandibles and he wrenches sideways. The sound of breaking chitin echoes through the chamber. The creature drops.
Two hunters attack from opposite sides. Simultaneous. Coordinated.
He moves between them. Doesn’t dodge. Doesn’t block. Just moves and suddenly he’s behind one of them, hands gripping its carapace. He lifts, actually lifts the entire creature, maybe two hundred kilos of armored predator, and throws it into the second hunter.
Both hunters slam into the wall hard enough to crack stone. They don’t get up.
Three more hunters charge. Learning. Adapting. They spread out, approaching from different angles.
Tynrax drops low. Sweeps the legs out from under the closest one. It crashes to the ground and he’s on it instantly. His fist drives through its carapace like the armor is made of paper. Once. Twice. The hunter spasms and goes still.
The second hunter leaps onto his back. Mandibles close around his shoulder. Should tear through flesh. Should cripple him.
He reaches back, grabs it by the leg, and flips it over his shoulder. The hunter hits the ground in front of him. He stomps down. The carapace crunches. Breaks. The hunter stops moving.
The third hunter hesitates. Actually hesitates, like it’s reconsidering this fight.
Smart. Very smart.
Tynrax turns toward it. Takes one step forward.
The hunter bolts. Runs for the entrance. Fast.
Not fast enough.
He crosses the distance in maybe three strides. Catches it by the rear leg. Drags it backward. The hunter screeches, mandibles clicking frantically, legs scrabbling against stone.
He doesn’t make it quick. Doesn’t make it clean. Just tears into it with his bare hands until it stops fighting.
Silence falls. Broken only by Tynrax’s breathing, harsh, ragged, and a continued hum of the facility.
I’m frozen. Can’t move. Can’t process what I just watched. That was Tynrax. Commander Tynrax. Reserved, controlled, precise Tynrax. Who just killed six armored predators with his bare hands.
Sarpi’s staring too. Blaster frozen, like he’s forgotten he was holding it.
Tynrax straightens. Turns toward us. His markings still blaze violet, and his eyes still glow that impossible light. When he takes a step forward, Sarpi takes a step back.
“Commander?” Sarpi tries again. “We need you to...”
Movement behind us. At the entrance.
A seventh hunter. Bigger than the others. The alpha, probably. It must have been hanging back, waiting to see how the fight went before committing.
Smart strategy. Terrible timing.
It charges straight at Sarpi. Mandibles spread wide. Moving fast enough that I can hear the air whistle past its carapace.
Sarpi tries to turn, but he’s too slow. The alpha’s already mid-leap.
The mandibles close around Sarpi’s throat.
I hear the crunch. See Sarpi’s body go limp instantly, neck bent at an angle that bodies don’t bend. The alpha’s still carrying him backward with its momentum.
Then Tynrax hits them both.
Faster than should be possible. He crashes into the alpha from the side, rips it away from Sarpi’s body. Both of them, Tynrax and the hunter, go down in a tangle of violence.
There’s a flash of violet light. A sound like thunder.
When it clears, the alpha is dead. Torn apart. Tynrax is standing over it, chest heaving.
And Sarpi...
Sarpi’s on the ground. Not moving. His head at that terrible wrong angle.
“No.” The word comes out as a whisper. “No, no, no...”
Tynrax sways. His markings flicker. Bright. Dim. Bright again. Like a signal degrading.
The light in his eyes fades from blinding violet to dim amber to almost nothing.
His gaze drops to his own hands, covered in... I don’t want to think about what they’re covered in.
Looks at the dead hunters scattered across the chamber floor.
Looks at Sarpi’s body.
Then he looks at me.
For one second, I see awareness return. See recognition in his eyes. See him understand exactly what has happened.
His face crumples. Pure devastation.
Then his knees buckle.
He drops. Hard. Would hit the stone face-first if I didn’t lunge forward and catch him.
We both go down in a controlled fall that’s only controlled because I manage to twist so his head lands on my lap instead of the floor. He’s heavy. All muscle and bone and complete dead weight.
His markings fade to almost nothing. Just faint violet traceries under pale skin. His eyes close. Breathing shallow but steady.
I should check on Sarpi. Even though I know it’s too late. Should do a dozen practical things.
My hand moves to Tynrax’s hair instead. Smoothing it back from his forehead. The strands slip between my fingers like silk. Softer than it looks.
I just watched him kill seven creatures with his bare hands. Watched him move like violence incarnate. The logical response would be fear. Distance. Getting as far away as possible from someone who can lose control like that.
I’m not scared. Not of him.
I’m scared for him. Scared of what this is doing to him. Scared he won’t wake up. Scared that when he does, he’ll look at me with that guilt and devastation I saw right before he collapsed.
My fingers are still in his hair. I’m trembling. Delayed shock catching up with me. But I don’t pull away.
His head is warm in my lap. Heavy. Real. Alive.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Come back. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
Alive.
Sarpi is dead. The hunters are dead. And I’m sitting on the floor of ancient ruins holding an unconscious alien who just killed everything in sight like it was nothing.
The facility’s hum drops to barely audible. The glowing patterns on the walls fade back to dormant.
Like nothing happened.
Like the universe didn’t just break every rule I thought I understood.
I check Tynrax’s pulse at his throat. Strong. Fast, but not dangerous. No visible injuries. The alpha that bit his shoulder didn’t even break skin, Scrapes were visible through his jacket but no blood.
“Vitals stable.” My voice shakes. “Unconscious but breathing. That’s good.”
Reality hits like gravity returning. Sarpi is dead.
Our pilot who made terrible jokes about asteroid mining.
Who shared his coffee ration even though we all knew he loved it more than oxygen.
Gone. Just like that. I’ll process this later.
I’ll grieve later. Right now, Tynrax needs me alive and functional.
Focus on Tynrax instead.
His eyelids flutter. Markings brighten slightly then dim. Coming around.
“Hey.” I touch his shoulder carefully. “Can you hear me? You’re okay. Well. You’re alive. That counts as okay for now.”
His eyes open. Glow faint amber for just a second before fading to silver-gold. He blinks up at me, disoriented.
“Aris?” My name comes out slurred. “What...”
Relief floods through me. “Yeah. I’m here. You collapsed.” I keep my hand on his shoulder. Grounding contact for both of us. “Don’t try to sit up yet. Just breathe.”
He’s staring up at me. Disoriented and vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen him. No walls. No control. Just raw confusion and dawning horror as the memories come back.
I tighten my grip on his shoulder. “Stay with me. Right here. Don’t go anywhere in your head yet.”
His hand comes up to grip my wrist, while mine still rests on his shoulder. Not tight enough to hurt, but firm. Anchoring himself. His skin is fever-hot against mine.
We stay like that for a moment, neither of us letting go.
Not yet.
I watch his gaze travel around the chamber. He takes in the dead hunters, the fading light on the walls, and Sarpi’s body.
Watch the memories click into place.
My hands are shaking. Can’t stop them. The adrenaline is crashing and taking my composure with it. I force myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
Sarpi is dead. Tynrax almost died. We’re stranded. Five thousand people are counting on us.
I can fall apart later.
The ground trembles beneath us.
Another aftershock.
Larger than the last one. And I can hear rocks sliding down the cliff face outside. Hear something metal groan in the distance.
The ship. Please don’t let it be the ship.