Page 43 of Alien Guardian's Vow

"Yes." He leaned his head back against the rock, eyes closing briefly. "Thank you, Rivera."

The use of my first name sent a warm current through our bond. It still surprised me, this connection between us - how quickly it had shifted from antagonism to something I couldn't quite name. Something that made his pain feel like my own, his relief my victory.

I scanned our surroundings, taking stock of our situation. Exposed, vulnerable, far from allies. Varek needed serious medical attention, but we had a critical mission to complete. Hammond's drilling operation continued to destabilize the ancient systems. Claire remained his captive, possibly the key to preventing catastrophic failure.

We made it. He made it. Now what?

"We need water," I said, practical concerns taking priority. "And shelter until you're strong enough to move."

"There is a stream," Varek said, nodding toward a depression in the landscape about half a kilometer away. "I can hear it."

"You stay put. I'll check it out."

"No." His hand caught my wrist, grip surprisingly strong despite his condition. "We remain together."

I studied his face - the determination there despite the pain and fever. The warrior hadn't completely surrendered to the wounded man.

"Okay, engineer. New problem. Survive. Get him safe. Find water. Then figure out how to get to Hammond.

"Alright," I conceded. "But we take it slow, and you tell me when you need to stop."

I helped Varek to his feet, supporting him as we made our slow way toward the sound of water. His tall frame leaned heavily against mine, but he remained stubbornly upright, one step at a time.

Looking up at his face, drawn with pain but set with characteristic determination, I felt that surge again - protectiveness, tenderness, and something deeper I wasn't ready to name.

I'll get us through this.

VAREK

Fire scorched through my shoulder with each step. The landscape blurred at the edges, my vision narrowing to the cracked earth directly before my feet. One step. Another. Each movement sent fresh waves of agony radiating outward from the burn.

"We need to rest," Rivera said, her arm steady around my waist.

I shook my head. "Not yet."

The ground beneath us hissed, releasing a plume of sulfurous steam that stung my nostrils. Arenix itself seemed to be protesting the damage Hammond's reckless drilling had caused. The once-stable terrain now betrayed us with every step – cracked earth, steaming vents, patches of ground slick with geothermal residue.

"Your fever's getting worse," she insisted, guiding me toward a twisted rock formation that offered minimal shelter.

My legs gave out before I could protest further. The impact of sitting sent another bolt of pain through my shoulder. I gritted my teeth against the sound trying to escape my throat. Warriors did not show weakness. Even now, even with her.

Rivera crouched beside me, pulling out her damaged scanner. "The western compound is still at least a day's journey at this pace."

"We don't have a day," I managed. The failing system would not wait for my weakness to pass.

"We won't have any time at all if you collapse from infection." She pressed her cool hand against my forehead. "You're burning up."

The sky darkened suddenly, and cold rain pelted down, soaking us within moments. Just as quickly as it began, it stopped, leaving us drenched and me shivering.

"The weather patterns are destabilizing too," I observed, teeth chattering. "The ancient system controls more than we realized."

Rivera's silver markings pulsed along her collarbone, visible above the neckline of her shirt. Through our bond, I caught fragments of her thoughts – calculations, probabilities, worry.

"Can you make it to that ridge?" She pointed to a slight elevation perhaps two hundred paces ahead. "I think I spotted water."

I nodded, though my body screamed in protest as she helped me to my feet. The ground beneath us shifted, slippery with rain and the strange, oily residue that seeped from the earth. Rivera's grip tightened around my waist as we navigated around a fallen tree, its roots torn from the ground by some recent tremor.

"What's that smell?" she asked, nose wrinkling.

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