Tynrax
Iinitiate the sequence.
The relay hums. Low at first. Building. The sound climbs through frequencies until it settles into a steady thrum that vibrates through the structure beneath my hands.
Power transmission restored.
The display screen shows green across every system. Energy flowing smoothly through the coupling we installed. Through the conduits we integrated. Through pathways that should be restoring the power feed to the Prospect’s End colony.
Should.
“Pull up colony status,” I say.
Aris has her datapad out before I finish speaking. The partial bond makes everything faster. I know she’s checking before she moves. She knows I need confirmation before I speak.
The numbers populate on her screen. I can see them from here. Power status: fifteen percent. Then sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Twenty.
“It’s working,” Aris says. Her voice comes out shaky. Exhausted. “The relay is channeling energy. The colony is saved.”
I stare at the readout. Green lights. Rising power levels. Five thousand lives no longer counting down toward death.
We did it.
The thought surfaces slowly. Carefully. Like I’m afraid believing it might make it untrue.
Then Aris is laughing. Grabbing my arm. “We did it! Tynrax, we actually did it!”
I don’t respond right away, just stare at the green lights on the console. My hands, resting on the panel, are trembling. A wave of sheer, bone-deep disbelief washes through me, so profound it almost knocks me off my feet.
“We did,” I agree, my voice quiet.
She pulls me away from the control panel. “Come on. Let’s get back to the ship before I collapse right here.”
Inside the ship, Aris heads straight for the medical bay. I follow. Watch her pull up files on her datapad. Her hands shake so badly she nearly drops it twice.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“Confirmation.” She bypasses the standard medical database, digging into the restricted historical archives—the ones my parents probably consulted.
She finds a fragmented file, flagged for deletion. Starts reading. “Symptoms of partial bonding. Heightened awareness. Physical pull. Emotional resonance. Synchronization of thought patterns.”
She shows me the screen. Lists of symptoms that match exactly what’s been happening between us since she kissed me at the relay.
“That’s us,” she says. “When I kissed you, we started the bond.”
I take the datapad from her. Read through the document properly. The language is archaic. Pre-Suppression terminology that doesn’t translate cleanly. But the meaning is clear enough.
Partial bonding. Incomplete connection. Unstable.
“It says the partial interlink is unstable,” I say, my voice tight. “That without completion, the empathic feedback can become erratic. It can magnify fear or pain instead of stabilizing it. We were lucky today.”
“And you go feral again.”
“Possibly.” I close the file. “We’re stranded here. No rescue coming for days minimum. If the partial bond fails before then, if I lose control again...”
“I could die. You could die.” She takes the datapad back. Sets it down. “But the colony is saved. That was the mission. We completed it.”
“The mission, yes. But we’re still here. Still dealing with the amplification field.” I look at her. I felt her exhaustion through the bond, a draining pull on my own energy. Her fear. Her determination. “Still connected by something we don’t fully understand.”
The medical bay suddenly feels smaller. More confined. My markings cast gold light across the walls. Across her face. I can feel her through the partial bond. Not just her emotions. Her presence. Like she’s standing beside me even though there’s a meter of space between us.
“We need to decide,” she says. “Complete the bond or hope the partial connection holds.”
“If we complete it, the connection becomes permanent. Irreversible.” I need her to understand this. Need her to truly comprehend what she’d be agreeing to. “You’ll feel everything I feel. I’ll feel everything you feel. No privacy. No barriers. For the rest of our lives.”
“I know.”
“You’ll be tied to a Zephyrian who goes feral when exposed to ancient technology. Who lost control and killed people. Who might lose control again despite the anchoring.”
“You’re also an engineer who just saved five thousand lives.
A commander who came for me, risking himself to pull me from the trap.
A person who fights every day to maintain control despite conditioning that should make it impossible.
” She moves closer. “I see all of you, Tynrax. Not just the dangerous parts.”
The words settle into my chest. Warm. Certain. True.
Through the bond I can feel her conviction. Her conviction that this was right was strong enough to quiet my own fear.
But I need to hear her say it. Need to know she’s choosing this with full awareness of what it means.
“Do you want this?” I ask. “Not just to keep me stable. Not just to complete the mission. Do you want me?”
She closes the remaining distance between us. Looks up at me. Her dark brown eyes steady. Certain.
“I want you. I’ve wanted you since you started explaining mathematical patterns in flower petals and making terrible dad jokes about geological formations. But only if you’re sure.”
Everything in me jolts, a reaction to something I’ve held in check for years. Decades. My entire life.
Want. Need. Connection.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I say. The words come out quieter than intended. More honest. “I choose you. I choose this.”
Her hand comes up. Touches my chest. Right over where my heart beats too fast. “The bond is permanent. You’ll be tied to me forever. That goes both ways.”
“Yes. It does.” I cover her hand with mine. “I understand the implications.”
“Do you?” She searches my face. “Your people abandoned this practice. Called it dangerous. Destructive. You’ll be going against everything your culture has believed for three thousand years.”
I remember my instructors, their voices flat and certain as they taught us to sever, to isolate, to control. They called it strength. But it wasn’t strength that saved us today. It was this.
“My culture was wrong.” The certainty surprises me. But it was true. The bond resonated with the certainty of it. “The Suppression didn’t make us stronger. It made us brittle. Unable to bend without breaking. You’ve shown me that. Taught me that connection doesn’t weaken. It anchors.”
She smiles. Small but genuine. “You’re going to make me cry and I refuse to cry right now.”
“Don’t cry.” I brush my thumb across her knuckles. “We have more important things to do.”
“Like completing an ancient bonding ritual neither of us fully understands?”
“Exactly like that.”
She laughs. The sound slightly unsteady but real. I can feel her nervousness through the bond. Her anticipation. Her absolute certainty that this is right despite the fear.
“My quarters or yours?” I ask.
“Yours. They’re closer.” She takes my hand. “And I might actually collapse if we have to walk any farther.”
We move through the ship. Hand in hand. The corridor seems longer than usual. Each step heavy with significance. With awareness of what comes next.
At my quarters, the door slides open. We step inside.
The space is small. Functional. I’ve never thought of it as intimate before. But now, with Aris here, with the partial bond humming between us and the weight of what we’re about to do, it feels both too large and too small simultaneously.
She turns to face me. Gold light from my markings illuminates her face. Makes her hair shine with red highlights. Makes her freckles stand out against her skin.
Beautiful. The word surfaces unbidden. She’s beautiful and brave and choosing me despite every logical reason not to.
“Aris.”
“Yeah?”
“If you’ll have me…” All of a sudden, the words die in my throat. “We complete the bond. No more waiting. No more fear.”