Aris
The diagnostic scanner beeps three times. Wrong rhythm. I frown at the readout, then check it again.
“The readings are worse than I expected.”
Tynrax looks up from where he’s cataloging our remaining supplies. “What’s wrong?”
“The power coupling we fabricated yesterday. It’s showing a stress fracture in the tertiary connector.” I pull up the detailed scan. “See? Right here. The molecular bonding didn’t fully integrate. If we try to channel power through this, it’ll fail within hours.”
He crosses the cargo bay in four strides. Studies the readout over my shoulder. Close enough that I can feel his body heat in the ship’s cool air.
“We’ll need to replace the connector,” he says. “But we don’t have the right alloy in our fabrication stores.”
“Can we synthesize it?”
“Not without base materials we don’t have.” He pulls back, and the cool air rushes in where his warmth had been. “We need the original component.”
I switch from the geological maps to the colonial archives, looking for anything related to the relay’s construction. “Wait. Look at this.”
I pull up an old mission log from five years ago. “According to the logs, before the main relay was constructed, they used a temporary prototype setup in this area. They abandoned it because the geological strata were too unstable for a permanent station.”
“An old survey site,” Tynrax says.
“Exactly.” I cross-reference the schematics. “The logs show it used the exact same model of power coupling. They would have just left it there when they relocated.”
Tynrax goes very still. “That site was abandoned for a reason, Aris. The quakes made it a deathtrap. It’s not safe.”
“It’s a risk I have to take.” I close the scan before he can argue. “I’ll be in and out. The predators are nocturnal, and I’m the only one who can go. You need to stay here, away from the ruin’s field.”
He doesn’t answer immediately. His markings waver, a wave of violet light washing over his skin before receding.
“I don’t like this plan,” he says finally.
“I’m not asking you to like it. I’m asking you to let me do my job.” I sling the equipment pack over my shoulders. “You can track me the whole time. I’ll keep my comm open. First sign of trouble, I’ll abort and head back.”
“Define trouble.”
“Anything that tries to eat me.”
His mouth tightens, a clear effort to hold back his thoughts.
“Aris.”
“I’ll be careful. Promise.” I head for the airlock. “Keep working on the fabrications we can manage. If the colony drops below thirty percent, we’re out of time regardless.”
“Thirty percent as of ten minutes ago.”
I pause. Turn back. “Then I’d better move fast.”
The walk to the survey site takes forty minutes. Longer than I estimated because the terrain is rougher than the scans indicated. Volcanic rock formations create natural barriers, forcing me to detour around obstacles. The regolith is loose in places, shifting under my boots.
My comm crackles. “Status?” Tynrax’s voice is strained, even over the comms.
“Fine. Just navigating some tricky geology.” I scramble over a low ridge, loose rock sliding beneath me.
“I’m not interested in the geological history right now.”
“Right. Sorry. The site should be visible once I clear this ridge.”
I reach the top and look down. A dented, half-buried pre-fab shelter sits in a natural depression, partially collapsed. A few rusted solar panels cling to its roof.
“Found it. Heading in now.”
The shelter’s roof is bowed inward on one side, half-buried in dark volcanic regolith.
Rust stains streak the paneling like old blood, and one of the solar arrays creaks as it shifts in the wind.
For a second I just stand there, staring at the faded emblem above the door, Survey Team 3A, and wondering who they were.
How long it’s been since anyone walked into this place.
How it feels like a grave now. I step closer.
The wind eddies around my boots, whispering through the collapsed scaffolding.
No power signature, no movement. Just the quiet weight of abandonment.
“Be careful.”
“Always am.”
The shelter door is jammed. I have to use a pry bar to force it open with a groan of tortured metal. The temperature drops immediately. The air inside smells of ozone, mildew, and dust.
My light cuts through the darkness. The passage is reinforced with rusting prefab panels and exposed conduit. Standard colonial survey outpost design.
“I’m inside,” I report. “It’s a standard colonial outpost, alright. Looks like they left in a hurry.”
“Any structural damage?”
I check my scanner. “Some stress fractures, but the main storage chamber looks stable. No unusual energy readings.”
The passage opens into a larger chamber. Metal crates are stacked against one wall, stenciled with old colony logos. Flickering emergency lights cast long, dancing shadows.
“Jackpot,” I breathe. “This is definitely their old supply depot.”
“Can you identify what you need?”
“Working on it.” I approach the nearest crate, checking the manifest stenciled on its side. “Tertiary Coupling Connectors, Mk4 Standard.” I grin. “Bingo.”
The crate seal releases with a hiss of stale air. Inside, components are nestled in protective foam. I pull out what looks like a connector assembly. My scanner confirms a perfect match. It’s the same component, just an earlier production run. “Thank the fusion gods for bureaucratic redundancy.”
For the first time in hours, my lungs remember how to breathe.
I let the connector rest in my hand for a second longer, feel the weight of it.
The solution, the answer, the stupid little piece of alloy that might save the colony.
Might save him. A breath hitches in my throat, uninvited.
I picture Tynrax back at the ship, jaw set, pacing, probably running diagnostics he doesn’t trust me to run alone.
The thought makes me smile, faintly. Just for a second.
Just long enough to almost believe we’ll make it. And then, the clicking starts.
“Got it. Heading back now.”
That’s when I hear the sound.
Not loud. Just a soft click. Then another. Multiple sources. Coming from the shadowed corners of the chamber.
“Tynrax?”
“I’m here.”
“I think I have company.”
The clicking gets louder. Closer. I swing myself toward the sound and see movement. Low to the ground. Multiple shapes flowing toward me from behind the crates. They must have been nesting here. I disturbed them.
“Aris, what’s happening?”
“Predators. Maybe a dozen.” I back toward the chamber entrance, pulling my sonic stunner. “I’m leaving. Now.”
The creatures flow into the open. Six-legged, sleek, and fast. Their carapaces are dark, built for speed. They spread out, flanking me, cutting off my retreat.
“Tynrax, I’m trapped. I can’t get past them. There’s too many.”
“Hold position. I’m coming.”
His voice over the comm is flat, but I know what’s happening. The fear. My fear, echoing in his mind. That’s the trigger. More dangerous than any ancient field.
“No! You can’t. The main ruins, the field...”
“I’m already moving.”
The comm goes quiet. Nothing but static.
The creatures circle closer. I fire. The sonic blast hits one’s carapace with a dull thud. It doesn’t even slow down. I fire again, backing up until my shoulders hit the cold metal wall. I’m cornered.
“Come on, Tynrax,” I whisper. “Where are you?”
The creatures close in.
The stunner whines. Eight charges left.
Then I hear it. Distant but growing closer. A roar that isn’t human or Zephyrian. The one that says something dangerous is coming.
The creatures scatter, bolting for cover.
Tynrax appears in the entrance.
His markings blaze with a violet light that fills the dim shelter. His eyes glow that impossible light. He moves like a natural disaster, each step covering distance that should take three.
He came for me. Even when he knew what it might cost him.
He stands framed in the shelter’s twisted doorway like something out of a myth.
Breathing hard, limbs loose and dangerous, glowing like his bones are lit from within.
Blood and chitin streak his arms. His jaw is clenched.
And those eyes, gods. I can’t look away.
But somehow he’s still Tynrax. Still mine.
That realization hits hard. Sharper than fear.
Because it means I have to reach him before that light devours what’s left.
Before this version of him, this creature made of rage and protection, decides the fight isn’t over.
“Tynrax, stay back! You’ll lose yourself!”
He lets out that same inhuman roar and launched at the nearest creature.
It’s fast. Brutal. He moves between them, a whirlwind of controlled violence. One tries to flee. He catches it mid-leap, throwing it against the wall with a sickening crack of chitin. Two more attack together. He grabs one by the mandibles, uses it as a club against the second.
The last few bolt for the deeper passages. He lets them go. He stands there, chest heaving, markings blazing.
Then he turns toward me.
For a moment I see nothing but that violet light. But he doesn’t move. Just stares at me while his fists open and close. The markings pulse.
“Tynrax.” I keep my voice steady. “Look at me. Focus on my voice.”
His hands curl into fists. Then slowly, they uncurl.
“You came for me.” I take one step toward him. “Now stay with me. Don’t go away in your head.”
The glow in his eyes wavers. Dims.
I take another step. “You’re here with me. Aris. Stay with Aris.”
His eyes clear. The violet light fades to gold then to silver. His markings settle.
He sways. I lunge forward, catching him before he falls.
“I’ve got you,” I say. “You’re okay.”
“Aris.” His voice is rough. Scraped raw. “You’re safe?”
“Yeah. I’m safe. Because you came for me.”
He pulls back just enough to look at my face, hands gripping my shoulders. “I couldn’t leave you there.”
“I know.” My hands are on his chest. His heart is hammering. “But you risked losing yourself again.”
“Didn’t matter. You needed me.”
The words settle in my chest. Heavy. Significant. We’re standing very close, his face maybe fifteen centimeters from mine. His markings pulse a steady, bright gold.
“Aris,” he says. Reverent.
“Yeah?”
His gaze drops to my mouth.
I lean forward. His hand slides from my shoulder to cup the side of my neck, thumb resting against my jaw. His skin burned against my hand.
His eyes meet mine again. Asking a question he won’t say out loud.
A sound interrupts. Distant clicking. The creatures returning.
We both freeze.
“We need to leave,” he says, his voice steady. “Now.”
“Yeah. Right. Leaving.” I step back, my legs unsteady. “Good plan.”
We move toward the exit, his hand finding my elbow, guiding me through the darkness.