Page 64 of Salvaged By the Alien Pirate

“Fascinating,” Kira murmurs, studying the readings on her displays. “The integration is far more complete than our models predicted. The Eclipse will be very interested in how your technology has merged with his... primitive biology.”

She adjusts something on the probe, and fresh waves of pain crash through my system. This time I can’t hold back the cry that tears from my throat. The room blurs around me as tears fill my eyes, but I force myself to meet her gaze.

“He’s coming for me,” I gasp out between ragged breaths. “And when he does—”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Kira interrupts, her synthetic voice carrying an almost gleeful edge. “In fact, let’s give him a proper invitation, shall we?”

My heart pounds as she activates the comm system, her cybernetic enhancements pulsing with cruel anticipation. “Cirdox Thar’Kal,” she purrs, the artificial warmth in her voice making my skin crawl. “I have a message for you. From your... mate.”

The way she says that last word, like our bond is some primitive curiosity to be studied, fills me with rage. But underneath that anger, raw fear claws at my chest as I watch those enhancements pulse with deadly intent. Her enhanced eyes study me like a specimen to be dissected, and I know exactly what the Eclipse has planned.

“Don’t play their game, Cirdox,” I shout, fighting against my restraints. “They’re trying to provoke you. Don’t—”

Kira cuts the transmission with a laugh that sounds more like corrupted code than anything human. The sound chills me to my core, because I recognize the emptiness in it—the same hollowecho that comes from losing your humanity piece by piece to their “improvements.”

They won’t just extract information—they’ll tear apart my neural implants, analyze how they’ve adapted to the mate-bond, use me as a test subject for their twisted experiments. The thought of being strapped to their medical tables, of having my mind and body violated by their “procedures,” sends ice through my veins.

Our bond pulses with Cirdox’s desperate fury, his need to reach me, and for the first time since Kai died, I’m truly terrified—not just of dying, but of being transformed into something inhuman, something broken, like what they did to my sister.

The lights flicker again, sending another spike of agony through my implants. I try to access the ship’s systems, to give Cirdox some advantage, but the Eclipse’s security protocols are too strong. My neural interface sparks and sputters, useless. All I can do is bare my teeth in a feral grin, hiding my growing desperation behind defiance. They can’t know how much this helplessness terrifies me.

“Still trying to protect him?” Kira’s voice carries that horrible synthetic sweetness, a twisted parody of the sister who once taught me everything I knew about hacking. An Eclipse technician adjusts something on the restraint panel, sending fresh waves of interference through my neural network. I bite back a cry of pain, refusing to give them the satisfaction.

“Just like you tried to protect Kai?” She crouches beside me, her cybernetically enhanced eyes pulsing with an unnatural crimson glow. The familiar accusation cuts deeper than any physical pain. “We both know how well that worked out.”

I close my eyes, focusing on the bond with Cirdox—that strange, powerful connection I never expected to trust. It’s my only lifeline now, my only way to fight back. I can feel him coming, his fury burning like a star through our connection. Ijust have to hold on, have to keep them distracted long enough for him to reach me. The thought steadies me, gives me strength even as another surge of interference makes my implants scream in protest. The mention of Kai’s name hits harder than any physical blow, memories flashing through my mind—his broken body sprawled across blood-stained concrete, his eyes wide and unseeing as Eclipse forces stormed the facility.

“He trusted you,” I spit, tasting copper and rage. “He was your brother!”

“He was weak,” she replies, her voice devoid of emotion. “Just like you’re weak. Clinging to outdated notions of family, of loyalty.” Her enhanced hand grips my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze. The sister I once knew is gone, replaced by this cold machine wearing her face. “The Eclipse offers power, control. Everything I deserve.”

Another attempt to access the ship’s systems sends white-hot agony through my skull. The electromagnetic pulse they used during my capture has turned my neural architecture into a maze of broken pathways and corrupted connections. Each interface attempt feels like razors scraping across my synapses, accompanied by bursts of static that taste like burnt circuitry.

“Your implants are quite sophisticated,” Kira muses, her artificial eyes scanning my neural ports with clinical interest. “The way they’ve adapted to the Kyvernian mate-bond... fascinating. The research division will be particularly interested in analyzing them.” Her broken-code smile never reaches those enhanced eyes. “Once we’ve properly extracted them, of course.”

She turns to the Eclipse technicians hovering nearby, their tools gleaming under the harsh medical lights. “Begin preliminary scans. I want a complete neural map before our guest arrives.” Her voice carries that terrible mechanical precision that still haunts my nightmares. “And do try not to damage her... permanently. We need those implants intact.”

The silence stretches like a physical weight after Kira leaves, broken only by the insistent throbbing in my skull where they’ve been probing my neural implants. Each pulse of pain sends fresh waves of nausea through me, but I force myself to stay conscious, to keep fighting. The bond with Cirdox flickers like a dying flame, growing weaker with each failed attempt to reach him through the Eclipse’s dampening field.

Time passes in a blur of agony. They’ve left me strapped to this medical gurney, surrounded by cold machinery and the steady beep of monitoring equipment. My implants sputter and spark, trying to interface with systems that reject them, sending jolts of electricity through my nervous system. But I don’t scream. I won’t give them that satisfaction.

“Fascinating,” one of the Eclipse technicians mutters, adjusting something that makes my vision white out momentarily. “The mate-bond has actually altered her neural architecture. The integration is far more complete than our projections suggested.”

“Increase the probe intensity,” another voice commands. “We need deeper access to understand the modifications.”

Fresh pain explodes behind my eyes as they push harder, trying to map the changes the bond has made to my systems. My body arches against the restraints, muscles spasming uncontrollably. Still, I don’t make a sound. Instead, I focus on memories of Cirdox—his wings mantling protectively around me, the warmth of his tribal markings against my skin, the fierce tenderness in his crimson eyes. They can hurt me, but they can’t take that away.

The door hisses open again, and Kira’s silhouette appears, her enhanced eyes gleaming in the harsh medical lighting. “Status report?”

“Subject is showing remarkable resilience,” one technician responds, his voice clinically detached. “But the neural stressis approaching critical levels. We risk permanent damage if we continue at this intensity.”

“Unfortunate,” Kira says, studying me with cold calculation. “But we’ve gathered enough data for now. Return her to the holding cell. We need her... relatively intact for what comes next.”

Two guards move to unfasten the restraints, their grip bruising as they haul me upright. My legs buckle immediately—I haven’t moved in hours, and the neural damage has affected my motor control. They drag me between them like a broken puppet, my feet barely touching the ground.

“Stay strong, little sister,” Kira whispers as we pass, her synthetic voice carrying a twisted echo of affection. “The real pain hasn’t even started yet.”

The journey back to my cell is a nightmare of flickering lights and intermittent consciousness. Every step sends fresh agony through my implants, which are now firing randomly, sending conflicting signals to my muscles. The guards have to practically carry me, my body refusing to cooperate.

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