Chapter 39 Bella
BELLA
The ship groans like it hates us.
Every time it shifts out of warp, I expect the whole hull to peel off like old skin. It’s patched with rust and soot and something green I don’t want to identify. There’s a crack in the viewport that creeps a little longer every hour. The air smells like burnt circuits and old fear.
But it’s moving.
That’s all I care about.
It’s getting us to her.
The nav system pings—the refinery-turned-temple looms in the distance now, a silhouette against the bloated husk of a dying star.
It’s beautiful and terrible, like some ancient god left to rot in orbit.
Metal spires stab at the void like prayers.
Pulsing red veins run through the station’s skeleton. The signal is strong. She's here.
My heart doesn’t beat faster.
It’s been racing since they took her.
I strap on my armor in silence. It used to belong to me back in the field. Doesn’t quite fit the same. The scar on my hip burns when I tighten the fastenings.
Kage watches me for a beat.
I don’t meet his gaze.
There’s nothing left to say.
We’ve both already said it—screamed it—bleeding in the dark with our daughter gone.
Now? Now we act.
He shoulders a pulse rifle. Then two more. Clips them to his back like they weigh nothing. There’s a blade strapped to his thigh that hums with vengeance. His jaw is set like stone.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Let’s burn their house down,” I say.
We breach through a maintenance port.
Kage slices the hatch with old resistance codes, and the door opens with a hiss that smells like ancient copper and mold.
The air tastes wrong.
Stale. Chemical. Alive.
The hallway beyond glows white, floor-to-ceiling sterilization, but veins of silver circuitry crawl across every surface like lichen. They pulse faintly under our boots.
Machine whispers hum through the vents.
Not words.
Binary prayer.
I almost vomit.
Kage moves ahead, smooth and lethal. His boots make no sound. His rifle is up, scanning corners. Every time he kills a drone, I hear his breath change—one step closer.
We’re ghosts in their god’s house.
I follow close behind, gun tight in my grip, trying not to think about what it’ll feel like to shoot someone who worships my kid.
The corridors are maze-like. Every section looks the same—same sterile sheen, same humming resonance. My arm vibrates from the frequency. I adjust the filter in my HUD. Doesn’t help.
We descend.
Deeper.
Through layers of worship. Living quarters smeared with skin oil and steel. Rooms with altars—bloody with offerings. Holograms of Natalie’s face.
I shoot one.
Kage doesn’t say anything.
He just grabs my hand for a second. Quick. Hard.
Then we reach it. The sanctum is circular. Domed.
A cathedral of code.
The walls ripple with nanite projections. Machine glyphs float like smoke. In the center—suspended by grav-beams and neural tethers—is a containment sphere.
Inside it is Natalie.
Floating.
Her hair fans around her like dark silk in zero-G. Her little body slack but breathing. Her skin is pale. The glow at her sternum pulses with too-perfect rhythm.
Kage growls.
I take one step.
The cultists appear.
Not armored. Not aggressive.
Just waiting.
Their robes are grey, skin implanted with chrome lattices, fingers long and glistening with neural ports. They bow when they see us.
One speaks.
“You are blessed to witness the Interface Ascension.”
I raise my gun. “I’ll bless your fucking spine with a bullet.”
The nearest cultist tilts his head, unbothered.
“Flesh and code united. Her purity is your gift to the future.”
“She’s a child!”
“Children become gods.”
Kage steps forward, voice like thunder. “You let her go. Now.”
Natalie’s eyes flutter open.
And they glow.
Not fully silver. Not fully human.
Halfway.
“Mama?” she whispers.
I run to her—but the field stops me. A static shield that bites.
“Mama, I’m scared,” she says, voice tiny and real and hers.
Overlay.
Same mouth. Same voice.
But mechanical.
“The vessel is ready.”
My knees go out.
Kage stumbles forward, agony in his face. “We’ll save you,” he says. “I promise, bug. Daddy’s here. We’re gonna take you home.”
Natalie stares through us. Through the world.
Two voices now.
Hers.
And Nulegion’s.
I lower my gun.
Because I know.
Deep down.
We’re already too late.