Page 35 of Salvaged By the Alien Pirate

“Stop thinking so hard,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing through my hair. “I can practically hear your processors overheating.”

I want to laugh, but the sound sticks in my throat like shattered code. He sees right through me—through all my calculations and risk assessments and desperate attempts to quantify something that can’t be measured. “I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper, my enhanced vision cataloging the way his tribal markings pulse with fever. “Everyone I let close either leaves or dies. I can’t... I don’t know how to trust that you’ll be different.”

His wings curl tighter, creating a sanctuary of shadow and warmth that makes my usual tactical awareness feel irrelevant. The gesture is protective but not confining—offering shelter while leaving the choice to stay mine. “Then we learn together,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion that bypasses all my defensive protocols. “No guarantees. No certainties. Just us, figuring it out as we go.”

As I trace the glowing patterns on his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath bronze skin, my neural interface flashes with an alert—an incoming transmission, encrypted but unmistakable in its origin. Kira. Always watching. Always waiting.

“We need to move,” I say, my voice stronger now. “The Obsidian Haven isn’t safe. They know where we are.”

“Who knows?” he asks, instantly alert despite his condition.

“The Black Eclipse. They’re coming for us.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth either. I can’t bring myself to tell him about Kira yet, about the personal vendetta that’s put him and his entire crew in danger.

He pushes himself up, wings mantling with determination despite the obvious effort it costs him. “We need to warn the crew. Get the ship ready.”

I help him stand, noting how the bond-sickness seems to have eased slightly. Not gone—nowhere near gone—but maybe changed by what we’ve shared. “I’ll need access to the ship’s core systems. If they try to hack us during departure—”

“Whatever you need,” he says without hesitation. “I trust you, Neon.”

The words hit me harder than I expect, making my throat tight. Trust. Such a simple thing, but so terrifyingly powerful. I’ve spent so long running from it, hiding from it, believing it would get me killed. But maybe it’s what will save us instead.

“We’re probably going to die,” I warn him, only half joking. “The Eclipse won’t stop.”

“Then we fight,” he says simply, his wings mantling with determination despite his weakness. “Together.”

As we head for the bridge, my neural interface catalogs our chances of survival, running probability scenarios and threat assessments. The numbers aren’t good. But for the first time since Kai died, I don’t care about the odds.

Because some things are worth fighting for, no matter the cost. And this fierce, impossible love growing between us? It’s worth living for.

Even if we have to burn the whole galaxy down to protect it.

Chapter 12

Cirdox

“Thatfacilityusedtohouse enough luminore to heal half the Orion system,” I tell Neon, my wings shifting restlessly as I study the skeletal structure clinging to the asteroid’s surface like a derelict ship waiting to be stripped. “Now it’s just another abandoned prize, ripe for salvage after Garrox’s greed picked it clean.”

The Brotherhood’s latest intelligence suggested a cache of medical supplies might still be hidden in the lower levels—the kind of score that could fill our holds and save lives in the outer colonies where luminore shortages are hitting hardest. Even a picked-over facility like this could yield enough resources to justify the risk, especially with three of our supply ships recently lost to Eclipse raiders while running medicine to desperate settlements. Pirates we might be, but at least we make sure our plunder reaches those who need it most, not just those who can pay the highest price.

The asteroid field surrounding Morcrest shimmers like a shattered mirror, reflecting the cold light of distant stars. Jagged obsidian shards, remnants of some ancient celestial collision, drift in silent patterns, their edges sharp enough to shred a ship’s hull at a careless touch. The Void Reaver hangs in the shadows of a particularly large fragment, its cloaking systems masking our energy signature from prying sensors.

My wings twitch with tension as I scan the storage facility—a framework of metal and glass that looks more like a forgotten monument than a functioning medical depot. The bond-sickness burns through my veins, making my tribal markings pulse with fever, but I force myself to focus. Something about this place feels wrong. Under High Chieftain Garrox, it was a testament to corruption, hoarding healing while colonies suffered.

The facility’s unnatural stillness mocks everything Droilin promised when he took power. I remember Kyor standing in this same loading bay, his proud features lined with desperate hope as he negotiated with Garrox for a pittance—just enough credits to keep the Brotherhood’s medical supplies flowing to the outer colonies. “Sometimes we have to compromise,” he’d said, not meeting my eyes. “For the greater good.”

But there was no greater good waiting at the end of that devil’s bargain. Just a cell in an STI prison where Kyor now rots, betrayed by the very system he thought he could manipulate. His attempt to play both sides, to extract some small benefit for the Brotherhood while working with Garrox, ended exactly as I warned him it would. The memory of his face when they led him away, of the bitter resignation in his eyes, still haunts me. Now the facility stands empty, its shadows holding secrets that whisper of broken promises and shattered dreams.

“You know this place well,” Neon observes from her position at the tactical station, her enhanced eyes studying my reaction.

“Too well,” I growl, memories of past raids surfacing like phantom pain. “Lost good people trying to liberate supplies from here. Back when Garrox’s guards shot first and never bothered asking questions.”

The bond-sickness burns through my veins, intensifying with each pulse of the Void Reaver’s engines. My wings twitch, their membrane-thin edges quivering with barely contained tension. The fever makes my skin prickle beneath my armor, a constant reminder of the biological clock ticking down. Neon’s presence on the bridge, barely a meter away, both soothes and inflames the ache. Her proximity eases the worst of the symptoms, but it also amplifies the primal need to claim her, to complete the bond before it’s too late.

“Ready when you are, Captain,” Neon says, her voice cool and focused as she finalizes the infiltration protocols. Her neural implants cast an ethereal blue glow across her skin, highlighting the sharp angles of her face as she works. She’s a whirlwind of controlled energy, her fingers dancing across the console, weaving through the facility’s security systems with practiced ease.

The facility’s security systems pulse with an unnatural rhythm that sets my enhanced senses on edge. Something about the energy patterns feels wrong—too precise, too calculated. Like a predator lying in wait.

“These encryption protocols are... odd,” Neon mutters, her neural implants flaring brighter as she digs deeper into the facility’s defenses. “They’re using a hybrid system I’ve never seen before. STI architecture layered with Black Eclipse modifications, but there’s something else...” She trails off, her enhanced eyes narrowing. “Something almost organic.”

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