Page 73 of Salvaged By the Alien Pirate

Zara pulls me into a careful hug, her russet fur tickling my nose. “Don’t ever scare us like that again,” she growls, but her smile is wide. “I’m not explaining to the medical staff why I had to sedate your mate twice more.”

“Only twice?” I tease, earning a playful swat from her tail.

Looking around at these faces—my family now—I feel something settle deep in my soul. The lone hacker who trusted no one has found her home among the stars. The Brotherhood is changing, becoming stronger and more united than ever. And I’ll be here to help guide that change, with my mate by my side.

Cirdox leads me to the vacant seat beside the captain’s chair. The crew watches with barely concealed grins as he guides me to the empty co-pilot’s chair—the one I’ve noticed has remained conspicuously vacant since I first stepped foot on the Void Reaver.

“This seat,” he says, his deep voice carrying layers of emotion, “has been empty for far too long.” His wings shift restlessly as he meets my gaze, red eyes glowing with intensity. “It belongs to someone who can match my tactical experience blow for blow. Someone brilliant enough to outmaneuver our enemies and brave enough to face whatever challenges await us in the dark between stars.”

My heart skips as I realize what he’s offering—not just a position, but a future. A place truly my own, earned through trust and respect rather than obligation or destiny.

“The co-pilot position is yours,” he continues, “if you want it. Though I warn you—smuggling runs are never boring, especially with the Brotherhood’s reputation.”

I catch Zara hiding a pleased smile while Grig’s large eyes sparkle with approval. This isn’t just Cirdox’s decision—the whole crew wants me here. The realization warms something deep inside me that I thought had frozen long ago.

“Boring?” I smirk, sliding into the chair that feels like it was made for me. “With my brilliant hacking and your brooding intensity? We’ll be legendary.”

His markings pulse brighter as he moves to his own seat, wings brushing mine in a gesture that sends warmth throughour bond. The bridge feels right with both of us here—balanced in a way I never expected to find.

“I love you,” I whisper through our connection, letting him feel the depth of my certainty. This isn’t just about the position or the ship—it’s about choosing each other, every day, in all the ways that matter.

His markings flare again with answering warmth as he reaches for my hand. “And I you, little hacker. Always.”

And as Cirdox plots our course for our first official smuggling run together, I can’t help grinning. The future I never dared dream of is finally mine—ours—and I couldn’t be more excited to see where it leads.

Epilogue

NEON VALKYRIE

3MonthsLater

The air in the Morcrest luminore mine hangs thick and heavy, a metallic tang mixing with the dust kicked up by our boots. My implants thrum beneath my skin, a low, steady pulse echoing the rhythmic clang of pickaxes against rock. It’s a surprisingly comforting sound, a stark contrast to the shriek of alarms and the roar of blasters that have been the soundtrack to my life for the past few cycles. The soft, ethereal glow of the luminore veins crisscrossing the cavern walls paints the rough-hewn rock in shades of otherworldly blue and violet, transforming the industrial space into something almost magical.

“Three point seven karats per ton,” I murmur, my fingers flying across the datapad, analyzing the latest yield reports. “Not bad. Better than the projections.”

“These Morcrestians are efficient,” Cirdox rumbles beside me, his voice a low, resonant sound that seems to vibrate throughthe very rock beneath our feet. His wing brushes against mine, a casual intimacy that sends a shiver down my spine. The bond thrums between us, a steady current of warmth and affection, a silent conversation that weaves through the dust and noise of the mine. It’s strange, this sense of peace, of belonging, in a place that once represented everything I fought against.

Across the table, Droilin, High Chieftain of Morcrest, grunts in agreement, his tusks gleaming in the luminore’s otherworldly light. “My people know the value of hard work. And the importance of reciprocity.” His gaze meets mine, a flicker of respect, perhaps even gratitude, in his usually stoic eyes. It’s a long way from the distrustful glare he’d given me when we first arrived on Morcrest. A lot can change in a few cycles.

Tasha, her hair pulled back in a practical braid, leans forward, her gaze sharp and assessing. “The transport routes are secure,” she confirms, her voice carrying the authority of a leader who’s earned her position. “The Brotherhood will deliver the luminore to the designated medical facilities within the agreed-upon timeframe.”

I nod, my gaze meeting hers. “We’ll ensure its safe arrival. No more Eclipse interference. No more artificial shortages.”

Tasha’s lips curve into a wry smile. “I appreciate the reassurance, Neon Valkyrie. Though I suspect the Eclipse is more preoccupied with rebuilding their shattered reputation than with intercepting luminore shipments for now.” There’s a hint of steel in her voice.

Droilin clears his throat, his gaze shifting to Cirdox. “The Morcrestian people are grateful for your assistance, Captain Thar’Kal. You and your mate have proven to be valuable allies.”

The luminore mines cast an eerie blue glow across the chamber, the light catching on Droilin’s tusks as he studies the proposed trade agreement. My neural implants spark faintly, still sensitive after the Eclipse’s torture, but they catch the subtleshifts in his expression—the way his jaw tightens, the calculating gleam in his eyes.

Cirdox’s wing brushes mine beneath the table, a silent sign of support that sends warmth through our bond. His markings pulse with carefully controlled intensity, betraying the tension he’s masking behind his diplomatic facade. We both know how much rides on this partnership.

“These terms,” Droilin rumbles, his massive fingers tracing the datapad’s glowing text, “they protect my people’s interests?” There’s an edge to his question, centuries of exploitation making him rightfully wary of outsiders seeking Morcrest’s precious resource.

“The Brotherhood will ensure fair distribution,” Cirdox answers, his deep voice carrying the weight of personal honor. “No more black market manipulation. No more artificial shortages from the STI. The luminore reaches medical facilities based on need, not political favors.”

I lean forward, my implants interfacing smoothly with the chamber’s systems to project detailed supply chain analytics. “We’ve integrated failsafes,” I explain, highlighting key security protocols. “Multiple verification layers, decentralized oversight. Even if someone wanted to abuse the system, they couldn’t without triggering immediate alerts.”

Tasha steps closer to examine my projections, her engineer’s mind automatically seeking out the mechanical weak points in the security system—access panels, maintenance hatches, physical vulnerabilities that could be exploited. A small smile plays at her lips as she recognizes how I’ve incorporated her knowledge of ship systems into my digital infiltration plan.

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