Page 47 of Salvaged By the Alien Pirate

“That’s the point.” Her voice carries a terrible mechanical calm. “Choose, Neon. The encryption key you stole from theEclipse database, or your mate’s life. Watch him die knowing you could have saved him, just like Kai.”

Time seems to slow as I process options, my enhanced vision calculating probabilities and escape routes. Cirdox writhes on the floor, his wings spasming as Kira’s attack tears through him. The bond-sickness burns through his veins like plasma fire, turning his tribal markings into lines of liquid agony against his bronze skin.

The encryption key I stole from the STI that night—the one that revealed how deep the Eclipse’s tendrils reached into official channels—burns in my neural cache. The same data that forced me to run, that exposed how they were manipulating luminore supplies and falsifying shipping manifests to hide their control over medical distribution. The tactically logical choice is clear—sacrifice one life to save many. It’s exactly the kind of calculation that got Kai killed.

I’m done letting fear control my choices.

“You’re right about one thing,” I say, my fingers dancing across my neural interface as I access the dormant virus I embedded in the STI’s root protocols that night. “Action matters more than words.”

I trigger the modified version of Kira’s own signature encryption—the one she used to teach me about system vulnerabilities, about how the most sophisticated defenses often ignore threats that mirror their own architecture. The virus flows through the facility’s network, using the same security protocols she helped design to breach her neural implants. Each line of code is a lesson she drilled into me, twisted and inverted until her own techniques become the key to bypassing her enhanced defenses.

Her eyes widen as the first failsafes trigger, recognition dawning as she realizes I’ve weaponized her own methodsagainst her. “You wouldn’t,” she breathes, but we both know I already have.

Her eyes widen as the first line of code hits. “What are you—”

“Showing you what you taught me about power,” I say, launching wave after wave of corrupted data at her neural interface. “About breaking rules. About survival.”

She staggers, red implants flickering as my virus tears through her defenses. Her control over Cirdox breaks, but the damage is done. He lies motionless on the floor, his wings spread limply, tribal markings pulsing with dangerous irregularity.

“Kill them both!” Kira screams, her mechanical calm finally shattering. She signals to someone out of sight, and blast doors slide open revealing a squad of Eclipse operatives who must have been lying in wait. They move with that unnatural synchronization that marks them as enhanced, their neural signatures burning like cold stars in my tactical display.

I throw myself over Cirdox’s prone form, my enhanced systems working overtime to counter incoming fire. But we’re surrounded, outnumbered, and he’s not moving. My implants flash urgent warnings—multiple hostiles converging, their movements suggesting a practiced containment protocol. They’re not just trying to kill us—they’re herding us away from the exits, cutting off escape routes with clinical precision.

“Stay with me,” I beg, my fingers pressed to his throat where his pulse flutters weakly. “Please, Cirdox. I can’t lose you too. Not like this. Not when I finally—”

A subtle vibration in my neural port signals an incoming transmission: “In position. Light it up on my mark.” McCoy’s voice, tight with controlled tension. Of course—she insisted on having her team standing by when we infiltrated, despite my protests about keeping this quiet. “Standard procedure,” she’dsaid with that sharp smile. “Always have backup when raiding STI facilities.”

I trigger the preset signal, and the far wall explodes inward exactly where we’d mapped structural weaknesses during our initial scan. McCoy’s tactical team pours through the breach right as my virus hits the facility’s security grid, turning automated defenses against the Eclipse operatives. The timing is perfect—a synchronized strike that catches our enemies in devastating crossfire.

“Get him out of here!” McCoy shouts over the chaos, her team moving with practiced efficiency to secure our exit route. “We’ll handle this!”

The next few moments blur into a symphony of plasma fire and breaking glass. My enhanced vision tracks multiple targets, highlighting escape vectors as McCoy’s team systematically pushes back the Eclipse forces. They’re good—better than standard police tactical units. The way they move suggests specialized training in dealing with enhanced opponents.

But none of that matters as much as the weakening pulse beneath my fingers, the way Cirdox’s tribal markings pulse with increasing irregularity. I have to get him out of here. Have to save him. Because I finally understand what I’ve been running from—and I refuse to lose him just when I’ve found the courage to stop running.

I don’t hesitate. Using strength I didn’t know I had, I half-drag, half-carry Cirdox toward the exit. His wings drag limply behind us, leaving trails of shed membrane that make my heart clench. Every few steps he tries to help, to support his own weight, but his legs keep buckling.

“Stay with me,” I repeat, the words becoming a desperate mantra. “Just a little further. Please, just hold on.”

The screech of tearing metal drowns out Kira’s howl of rage as we sprint through the facility’s collapsing corridors. Her furyfollows us like a physical force, making my neural implants misfire with phantom echoes of past pain. But I can’t let those memories paralyze me. Not now. Not when Cirdox’s life depends on every second we can steal from fate.

“Stay with me,” I growl as he stumbles again, his wings dragging against the walls. The bond-sickness burns through him like plasma fire, turning his tribal markings into a frightening display of erratic pulses—some areas barely flickering while others blaze bright enough to cast crimson shadows across the sterile walls. My enhanced vision catalogs his deteriorating vital signs with merciless precision, each new reading worse than the last.

We dodge another volley of plasma fire, the heat of it singeing my tactical suit. Behind us, Kira’s enhanced soldiers move with terrifying synchronization, their modified reflexes letting them gain ground with every step. But they’re not trying to kill us. They want us alive—want me alive—and that’s somehow worse than death.

“Almost there,” I pant, though my own muscles scream in protest. Cirdox’s weight grows heavier against me as the fever consumes what little strength he has left. His skin burns hot enough to make my enhanced sensors glitch, tribal markings pulsing with a desperate, primal need that tears at my heart. This is my fault. My fear. My hesitation slowly killing him.

The Void Reaver’s airlock appears ahead like salvation, its emergency lights painting everything in shades of blood and shadow. We stumble through somehow, though I’ll never remember exactly how we made it. As soon as we cross the threshold, Cirdox’s legs give out completely. His magnificent wings spread across the deck in a display of defeated grace, their thin edges quivering with exhaustion.

“No,” I whisper, dropping to my knees beside him. My hands shake as they trace his fever-bright markings, eachtouch sending feedback loops of data through my implants—temperature critically elevated, neural patterns growing erratic, cellular degradation accelerating. “Don’t you dare give up. Not now. Not like this.”

His eyes find mine, crimson depths clouded with pain but still burning with that fierce protectiveness that makes my heart ache. “Worth it,” he manages, voice rough as plasma-scored metal. “Keeping you safe... always worth it.”

“Not if it kills you,” I say fiercely, my own voice breaking. “I won’t watch someone else die because I was too afraid to act.”

The ship’s engines roar to life around us as Zara initiates emergency launch protocols. But I barely notice, too focused on the way Cirdox’s markings pulse with dangerous irregularity—some areas barely glowing while others burn bright enough to leave scarlet ghosts dancing in my enhanced vision. He’s running out of time. We’re running out of time.

And I have a choice to make.

---