Chapter 9
Vesh
The cold came for us before the enemy did.
I shut down the Wraith’s engines, weapons, active sensors, cabin lights, and everything else that drew power without keeping us alive.
The cockpit went dark except for the red emergency display.
Priya leaned over the damage panel. “Pressure loss is getting worse.”
“The aft seal failed on impact.”
“Can we reach it?”
“From inside. If the compartment door still opens.”
“Good. Tell me what you need.”
She released her harness and stood.
“Wait.”
Priya froze. “What?” I scanned her through the bond. Elevated pulse. Pain along her left side. No serious internal injury that the implant could identify.
“Your ribs.”
“Bruised.”
“You do not know that.”
“I can breathe, nothing crunches and getting offended hurts more than moving. Bruised.”
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“That was an order.”
“We’re crashed on an enemy moon with a leaking hull. File a complaint when we get home.”
She pushed past me toward the aft hatch. My hand closed around her arm.
“Stay where I can see you.”
Her irritation disappeared. The last time I had been in a damaged Wraith, Tavik had bled out beside me while I focused on getting us home. I had told myself I could monitor him and fly. I had been wrong. Priya turned her hand inside my grip and laced our fingers together.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “But if we don’t patch the hull, neither are you.”
I released her.
The aft compartment door opened eight centimeters and stopped against twisted metal. We forced it wide enough to crawl through. Priya went first because she was smaller. I hated every second she was out of sight.
“I’m in,” she called.
“I can see your legs.”
“Try to remain professional.”
“Your left boot is blocking the light.”
“My mistake. I thought you were admiring my ass.”
“I can perform both tasks simultaneously.”
She looked back at me over her shoulder. “Who are you, and what have you done with Vesh?”
“Patch the ship.”
The breach ran along the starboard seam where the wing had torn away. The emergency bulkhead had sealed the largest opening, but two cracks continued to leak atmosphere around it. I passed Priya a pressure membrane.
“Adhesive side toward the hull,” I said.
“I figured that out.”
“You were holding it backward.”
“I was inspecting it.”
“Professionally?”
“You’re learning sarcasm too fast.”
She pressed the membrane over the first crack while I braced her against the canted deck.
The material expanded, hardened, and stopped the leak.
The second crack was behind a crushed conduit.
I cut the conduit free. Priya reached into the gap and sealed the fracture with both arms buried to the shoulder.
“Pressure is rising,” I said.
“How much?”
“Enough. Pull back.”
Her flight suit caught on a sharp piece of hull. The bond flared with alarm before I understood why.
“Stop moving.”
“I am stopped.”
I crawled forward, cut the material loose, and drew her back against me. My hands went over her arms, ribs, hips, checking for blood.
“It’s the suit,” she said. “I’m fine.”
“Do not say fine.”
“I’m unpunctured. Is that acceptable?”
“Barely.”
I kept one hand on the back of her neck until we returned to the cockpit.
The pressure stabilized. The core did not.
Its output continued to fall. I rerouted life support and the passive recorder to separate cells, then isolated the damaged engine circuits.
The work bought us several hours and cost us almost all remaining cabin heat.
Priya found two ration packs, a container of water, and one emergency thermal layer designed for a single scout.
“Dinner,” she said, handing me a ration.
I opened it. “This pack is four years old.”
“Is that bad?”
“It may taste better.”
She bit into the compressed ration and immediately regretted it.
“This tastes like the tea.”
“Nothing tastes like that tea.”
“You’ve been holding out on me. This is definitely boiled fence.”
I ate mine. She watched with horrified fascination.
“You don’t have to finish it,” I said.
“I’m not dying because I was defeated by an alien granola bar.”
“I do not know what granola is.”
“Be grateful.”
She finished every bite. The cockpit temperature fell below safe limits two hours into the night cycle. Priya’s lips lost color. Her hands began to shake.
“Come here,” I said.
“I’m okay.”
“That is another version of fine.”
“Maybe a little cold.”
“Your body temperature is dropping.”
I pulled the thermal layer across the narrow space behind the seats and sat with my back against the inner hull. Priya lowered herself beside me.
“Closer,” I said.
“You usually complain when I get closer.”
“I am adapting.”
“Very brave.”
I lifted her onto my lap and wrapped the thermal layer around both of us. Her back fit against my chest. My arms circled her waist. She tucked her hands between my forearms and her stomach, and within seconds the bond eased.
“Better?” I asked.
“Much.”
Her head rested beneath my jaw. I felt every breath. Every small movement. The curve of her ass settled directly over my cock. Survival required shared body heat. Survival did not require my cock to become hard. Priya shifted. I tightened my hands at her waist. “Do not.”
“Do not what?”
“You know exactly what.”
“I was getting comfortable.”
“Liar.”
“Look at that. You really are learning.”
She moved again, slower this time, and rubbed the soft curve of her ass over me.
My restraint failed. I caught her jaw, turned her face toward mine, and kissed her.
She opened immediately. No hesitation. Her hand went behind my neck and pulled me closer as my tongue entered her mouth.
The pair bond flared hot enough to drive every trace of cold from my body.
Priya turned on my lap. Her knees settled on either side of my hips.
The thermal layer fell around us like a tent.
“Tell me if your ribs hurt,” I said against her mouth.
“They’re not what hurts.”
“What does?”
She pressed her hips down over my cock.
“This.”
I groaned.
“That does not appear to hurt you,” I said.
“It hurts that you’re still wearing clothes.”
“A problem I can solve.”
I opened the seal at the front of her flight suit. Cold air touched her skin. She shivered. I pushed my hands inside and covered her waist, her ribs, the warm weight of her breasts. Her nipples tightened against my palms.
“Vesh.”
I drew one into my mouth. She cried out and arched against me, both hands gripping my hair. I sucked harder, then used my teeth until the cry turned into a moan. The sound went straight to my cock.
“I thought about this all night,” I said against her breast. “In the sim bay. In the corridor. Every time you looked at me.”
“Less talking.”
“You usually demand more talking.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Then tell me what you want.”
She took my hand from her breast and guided it down her stomach, beneath the open flight suit.
“Me,” she said. “I want you touching me.”
My fingers reached the edge of her undergarment. I hooked the fabric aside. She was hot beneath it. Wet.
“Priya.”
“Yes.”
I slid one finger inside her. Her forehead dropped to mine. Her hips moved into my hand, demanding more. I gave it to her. A second finger. My thumb over the sensitive peak above them.
“Oh, God.”
“Still not a god.”
“Vesh, I swear—”
I kissed the threat out of her mouth and stroked her again. The bond carried every wave of her pleasure back through me. Her muscles tightened around my fingers. She struggled to keep her breathing steady. The pressure alarm sounded. Priya went completely still.
Priya's breath fluttered against my lips.
Her body became a language I had been trying to learn since the first moment she appeared on my training screen, and now every small movement told me more.
The hitch in her breathing. The way her fingers tightened in my hair.
The helpless roll of her hips when I found the pressure she needed.
I wanted to memorize all of it, then spend the rest of my life proving I had learned it well.
The bond fed me the bright edge of her need, but it also carried something far more dangerous.
Trust. She was offering herself to me without hesitation, despite every reason I had given her not to.
The knowledge made my chest tighten. I wanted to take my time, to make her forget the cold, the damaged ship, and the enemy moon beneath us.
Instead, alarms and war waited on the other side of every breath.
The alarm sounded again. Louder this time, as if it knew exactly how tempted I was to ignore the fucking thing
“No way.” she whimpered with her lips pressed to my skin. "Horrible timing."
“I will destroy this ship,” I said.
“Get in line.”
I removed my hand slowly. Her eyes closed as if the movement physically hurt.
“When we are safe,” I said, “I will finish this.” I pressed my mouth to the mark on her neck. The bond surged. “When I have you, I want hours. Warmth. Food. A bed. No pressure alarms.”
She opened her eyes. “You forgot privacy.”
“That too.”
“Hours?”
“As many as you can endure.”
“That’s cocky.”
“Accurate.”
The alarm became continuous.
“Fine,” she said. “Save our air. Then hours.”
I sealed her flight suit with hands that were not steady.
The second pressure loss came from a stress fracture beneath the pilot’s console.
We pulled up the floor panel, packed the crack with seal compound, and braced it using part of the broken copilot housing.
Priya held the brace while I welded it in place.
“Tool,” I said.
“Which one?”
“The narrow cutter.”
She handed me the wrong tool.
“That is a sealant injector.”
“The names are in Velerion.”
“The implant translates them.”
“The implant says that one is a pressure-assisted molecular bonding device.”
“Sealant injector.”
“Then why didn’t you say the short version?”
“I just did. Cutter.”
She found it. “Bossy.”
“Alive.”
“Good point.”
We worked until the alarm stopped and the pressure held. Priya never panicked. She asked questions, learned every tool after one explanation, and stayed beside me even when the damaged hull groaned around us. When the repair was finished, she sat on the deck and rested her head against my shoulder.
“Wake me if we start leaking again,” she said.
“I will.”
“Or if the enemy arrives.”
“I will.”
“Or if you decide we have time to finish what we started.”
“Sleep, Priya.”
She smiled with her eyes closed. I wrapped the thermal layer around us again and held her against my chest. Within minutes, her breathing slowed.
Her weight settled against me. I had known desire.
I had known loyalty, grief, and the bond between scouts.
This was all of them and something more.
I loved her. The realization was not complicated.
It was only late. I did not wake her to say it.
We were stranded, hunted, and still losing power.
She deserved to hear the words somewhere safer than a damaged cockpit.
So I kept watch while she slept. I listened to the hull.
Monitored the core. Held Priya tighter whenever she shivered. And waited for dawn.