Page 71 of Salvaged By the Alien Pirate

The names send fresh shivers down my spine as memories surface—Kira’s synthetic voice as she directed the neural probes deeper, K’vex’s mechanical precision as she detailed exactly how they planned to weaponize our bond. I start to tremble, and Cirdox’s grip tightens protectively.

“The physical trauma is stabilizing,” the doctor says, keeping his voice steady despite his furrowed brow as he studies the readings. “But these neural pathways . . .” he shakes his head and looks gratified to see Officer McCoy step forward.

“I’ve called in specialists from Orion Outpost,” McCoy adds, her usual authoritative tone softened with genuine worry. “The best neuro-techs in the quadrant. The damage the Eclipse’s probes did to your neural architecture is . . . extensive. But they’ve had success with similar cases. It will take time to fully heal.”

I try to sit up, but my body feels like it’s made of lead. Cirdox supports me with gentle hands, helping me find a more comfortable position. The movement sends fresh sparks of pain through my neural ports, making me gasp.

“Easy,” he murmurs, his wing curling around me protectively despite his own injuries. “You’ve been unconscious for three days. Your body needs time to recover.”

“Three days?” I blink in surprise, then immediately regret it as the motion makes my head spin. “What happened after . . .”

“After I got you out?” His chest markings pulse darker, and I feel his fury at the memory bleeding through our bond. “The Brotherhood launched a coordinated strike against Eclipse holdings across three sectors. We’ve already taken down fourmajor facilities and rescued dozens of other victims from their ‘research’ programs. McCoy’s evidence, combined with what you managed to extract before they caught you, was enough to finally force the STI to act.”

“The Planetary Police have strike teams hitting every Eclipse facility we can identify,” McCoy confirms, adjusting something on my IV. “Ta’vag’s diplomatic channels are working overtime to coordinate with local authorities. We’re not just pushing them back—we’re dismantling their entire operation with your assistance. And, most importantly, you are a free woman.”

Pride and satisfaction war with lingering fear in my chest. “And Kira? Did you . . .”

“She’s alive,” Cirdox says softly, his hand tightening on mine. “In a secure medical facility where they’re working to undo the Eclipse’s programming. It will take time, and she may never fully recover, but there’s hope.”

I nod, ignoring the way the motion makes my vision blur. Hope is more than I expected. More than I dared dream when I first discovered my sister had been transformed into one of their cybernetic monsters.

“The crew sends their love,” McCoy adds with a rare smile. “Though keeping them out of here has been . . . challenging. Especially Zara—she’s appointed herself your personal guardian. I had to threaten to sedate her to make her get some rest.”

The thought of the fierce Vulpexian defending me brings unexpected moisture to my eyes. When did I acquire such a loyal family? The lone hacker who trusted no one now has an entire crew ready to tear apart the galaxy to protect her.

“I’m surprised they managed to keep you out this long,” I say, my voice weak but carrying a hint of my usual snark. My neural implants still spark erratically, sending jolts of pain through myskull, but seeing Cirdox’s tribal markings pulse with relief makes it worth the effort to speak.

“Bold of you to assume she succeeded,” he rumbles, and McCoy snorts.

“Your mate nearly tore apart half my medical staff when they tried to separate you for treatment,” she says dryly. “We had to set up a second bed in here just to keep him from reinjuring himself trying to reach you.”

“They lived,” Cirdox growls, but there’s no real heat in it. His thumb continues its gentle patterns on my palm, and I feel his contentment humming through our bond. Having me awake and talking has eased some of the desperate tension I can still sense in his muscles.

“Barely,” McCoy mutters, but her eyes are fond as she checks my readings again. “The neural specialists will want to run more tests now that you’re conscious, but I think we can wait until tomorrow. You need rest more than anything else right now.”

I start to protest, but a massive yawn betrays me. Cirdox chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest in a way that makes me want to curl up against him.

“Sleep, little hacker,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” I hate how vulnerable the word sounds, but the bond pulses with his fierce response.

“Always,” he growls, his wing tightening around me. “Nothing in this galaxy will take you from me again.”

I let my eyes drift closed, surrounded by his warmth and protection. For the first time since waking, I feel truly safe. The bond hums between us, strong and steady, a reminder that I’m no longer alone.

The next few days pass in a blur of tests and careful healing. The neural specialists work to repair the damage done by Eclipse probes, but it’s slow, delicate work. Every successful interfacebrings fresh hope, while each failed connection reminds me how far I have to go. Through it all, Cirdox remains my constant anchor, his presence steady and unwavering despite his own injuries.

The crew visits in carefully controlled rotations, bringing gifts and stories to lift my spirits. Zara smuggles in actual coffee from her private stash, while Grig shares tales of how the Brotherhood fleet is systematically dismantling Eclipse smuggling operations. Their visits help piece together what I missed during those three days of unconsciousness.

K’vex’s betrayal hit the Brotherhood hard, but it also united us in ways I never expected. Other captains have stepped up, pledging their full support to hunting down Eclipse cells. Even Vornak, who once challenged Cirdox’s authority at every turn, now leads strikes against their holdings with devastating efficiency.

A week after waking, McCoy finally clears me to leave the medbay. My neural ports are mostly stable, though certain connections still spark unpredictably. Walking is a challenge after so long in bed, but Cirdox simply scoops me into his arms despite my token protests.

“I can walk,” I grumble, even as I curl into his warmth.

“Indulge me,” he rumbles, his tribal markings pulsing with satisfaction as he carries me toward his quarters. Our quarters now, I realize with a start. The thought sends a different kind of warmth curling through me.

The bond hums with shared need as he palms open the door and gently lays me on his massive bed. His markings pulse with an intensity that takes my breath away as he looks down at me, wings mantling protectively.

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