Page 62 of Salvaged By the Alien Pirate

“She’s alive,” I growl, fighting to control the rage threatening to consume me. “But I can barely feel her.” My wings snap wide with barely contained fury, casting crimson shadows across the smoke-filled bridge.

“We’ll find her,” Zara promises, her voice fierce with loyalty even as her tail lashes with agitation. “Whatever it takes.”

“Engineering reports multiple breaches,” Grig adds, his usually calm voice tight with urgency. “But if you can sense anything through the bond, even a direction...”

“Report!” I snarl, fighting the urge to tear the bridge apart with my bare hands. Every instinct screams to abandon my post, to hunt them down, to rip apart anyone standing between me and my mate. But I’m still captain. These people trust me. Need me. Just like she trusted me to keep her safe.

“Shields at thirty percent and dropping.” Zara’s voice cracks slightly—she knows what Neon means to me. Her paws tremble as she reroutes emergency power, the displays before her a frantic dance of red warning indicators. “Multiple breaches on decks four and seven. Grig’s rerouting auxiliary power, but we’re losing life support in those sections.”

Another explosion rocks the ship, the impact throwing several crew members from their stations. Sparks rain from damaged conduits overhead as I grip the command chair, my claws digging deep grooves into the armrests. Through our stretched bond, I catch fragments of Neon’s fear, her pain. Each pulse is like acid in my veins. I failed her. I let them take her.

The main viewscreen fills with the sleek, deadly silhouettes of Eclipse warships, their black hulls absorbing what little starlight reaches us. They move like predators, synchronized and lethal, cutting off every possible escape route.

“They’ve targeted the secondary power couplings,” Grig reports, his long fingers dancing desperately across failing controls. The usual calm precision of his movements is gone, replaced by barely controlled panic. “If they take those out—”

“We’re dead in space,” I finish, forcing myself to study the tactical display through a haze of rage. The holographic projection shows our situation in stark detail—the Eclipse ships have us surrounded, a perfect trap born of K’vex’s betrayal. That snake knew all our protocols, all our escape routes. She handed them everything.

Gods, Neon. I’m so sorry. I should have seen it coming. Should have protected you better.

“Your orders, Captain?” Zara’s question cuts through my self-recrimination. She’s right. I can’t let grief consume me. Not when the crew needs their leader. Not when Neon needs me to stay focused.

The tactical display flickers, showing the Eclipse formation shifting. They’re pulling back, satisfied with their prize. My mate. My heart. Leaving us to die in the void while they...while they...

My roar drowns out the emergency klaxons, the sound echoing through the bridge like thunder. My wings snap wide, casting crimson shadows as my tribal markings pulse with fury bright enough to illuminate the smoke-filled air. “The Juntarian nebula’s radiation will mask our energy signature,” I growl, my tactical mind working even through the rage. “And the magnetic fields can temporarily stabilize our failing shields if we calibrate them correctly.”

“The nebula’s particle density could buy us time to make repairs,” Grig adds, his pale fingers already dancing across the navigation controls. “The same interference that masks us will disrupt their targeting systems.”

“And we have supply caches hidden in the outer rings,” Zara realizes, her fur bristling with renewed determination. “Emergency parts, medical supplies...”

“No.” My fangs bare in a predatory snarl as I slam my fist through the tactical display, shattering the hologram of the nebula. “We don’t have time to regroup. Every second we waste is another moment they have my mate.” My wings snap wide, casting crimson shadows across the smoke-filled bridge. “They want to cripple us? Let them try. But I’m going after her. Now.”

“Captain,” Zara protests, her fur bristling with concern. “The ship’s systems are failing. We can’t possibly—”

“They took my mate.” The words come out as a primal growl that makes the bridge crew flinch. Through our stretched bond, I feel Neon’s fear spike, then smooth into calculated determination. She’s fighting. Planning. Even now, she refuses to give up. “I don’t care if we have to tear through every Eclipse ship in the sector. I’m getting her back.”

Grig’s pale fingers dance across the navigation controls, his usual methodical nature replaced by fierce loyalty. “Their flagship’s shields are strongest at the bow. But if we come in from below, using the radiation interference to mask our approach...”

“Do it.” I grip the command chair, my claws leaving deep gouges in the metal as another tremor rocks the ship. “Zara, prepare boarding parties. We strike hard and fast.” My tribal markings pulse with battle-fury as I feel Neon’s presence grow stronger. She’s close. And nothing—not failing systems, not overwhelming odds—will keep me from her now.

The crew’s expressions shift from fear to fierce resolution as the strategy takes shape. It’s desperate, yes, but it’s also tactically sound. And right now, we need both.

“Zara, send encrypted bursts to our allies. Short-range only—nothing they can trace. Grig, plot the least predictable course through the nebula’s outer bands. We’re not just running—we’re preparing to strike back.”

The Void Reaver shudders violently as we tear into hyperspace, systems screaming in protest. Warning klaxons blare as structural integrity readings plummet into the red. But I barely notice the chaos. All I can focus on is that faint pulse through our bond—Neon’s fierce spirit, refusing to give up. Fighting. Waiting for me.

Hold on, little hacker. I’m coming for you. And the Eclipse is about to learn what happens when you steal a Kyvernian’s mate.

The Void Reaver screams out of the slingshot maneuver, her hull plates groaning under the strain as we hurtle past the pulsar’s lethal gravitational field. Warning klaxons blare through every deck as stress indicators flash critical red across my command display. But we’ve done it—we’ve achieved what the Eclipse thought impossible. Their flagship fills my viewport, its sleek obsidian hull bristling with weapon arrays and defenseturrets. The sheer arrogance of their design makes my markings pulse with fury—all those gleaming sensors and perfectly aligned gun ports speak to an empire convinced of its own invincibility.

Through our bond, I feel Neon’s presence grow stronger, a beacon guiding me straight to her location somewhere in that massive vessel’s heart. My wings snap wide, casting crimson shadows across the bridge as primal instinct merges with tactical assessment. We’re close enough now that I can pick out individual shield generators, spot the subtle power fluctuations that betray vulnerable points in their supposedly perfect defenses. Close enough that nothing—not their technology, not their numbers, not even their precious logic—can stop me from reaching my mate.

“Zara, maintain defensive fire. Grig, bring us in close,” I command, my voice ringing with a cold fury that chills even me. “Get me within range of their auxiliary shield grid. Neon left us a gift—her cloaking algorithms are still buried in our core systems.”

My fingers dance across the command console, accessing the hidden subroutines my clever mate designed before her capture. The familiar patterns of her code flow across my screen—elegant, precise, deadly. Like her. Even now, she’s protecting us with her brilliant mind.

“But Captain,” Zara protests, her russet fur bristling with concern. “The strain on our damaged systems—”

“Will be worth it,” I growl, my tribal markings pulsing with predatory intent. “I’m going aboard alone. The cloaking field will only mask one signature—and I need you both here, keeping the Void Reaver ready for a fast extraction once I have her.”

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