Page 107 of Claimed By the Alien Assassin
“Compromise,” I say, hopping onto a stool next to him. “You DJ. I engineer every station from hyperjump to deep space.”
“Deal.”
We spend a moment in that silence between us—electric and warm. Then, in the background, the dojo thuds increase—Dayn is practicing with a trainee, every move quiet but controlled.
“Want to see something funny?” I say.
He arches an eyebrow. “Actually… no. But I’ll look anyway.”
I swipe my compad and open a window: a video stream from the dojo. He steps back, watching himself in motion. He’s calm, centered—until the trainee overcommits on a strike and Dayn flips him, full karate chop to the chest. The kid sputters on themat; Dayn stands tall, calm, a hair flick of exasperation across his face. His first thought after helping him up is a curse, not pride.
I laugh, low and genuine, the sound echoing through the cabin. “A trained Shorcu knocking the wind out of an overconfident kid is... priceless.”
Dayn’s lips twitch into a full grin—rare and open. “He shouldn’t have called me washed up.”
I reach into the compad’s storage and pull the real message. “Here—a note from Dowron. He wants us to lead a clandestine task force.”
I pass the holo-screen across the console. Dayn reads it silently. His jaw tightens.
“What’s in your head?” I ask.
He shrugs, gaze distant. “I can't be just an instructor in Kara’s shadow. But… a task force, with you beside me—it’s not so bad.”
I lean forward, voice careful. “We don’t need to choose. We can teach, we can fight, we can build this ship and be exactly who we are.”
Dayn looks at the miniature grid and then at me. “You’re terrifying,” he says softly.
“Good terrifying?” I quip. “Cause I'll take it.”
The hush that follows is warm and familiar, like falling into bed after a long day.
The decision crystallizes the next morning, over burnt holo-coffee and stale biscuit slabs. We call it a council—all four of us, packed into the tiny galley. Novaria's dean, two Hellfighter captains, Dowron's holo-presence projected from an off-ship terminal.
I stand ramrod straight, the room humming—non-Vortaxian engines, a scent of recycled air and ambition. “Thank you,” Ibegin. “For all of these opportunities—but Dayn and I... we’ve decided to take them all.”
Garrus’s stunned look, the dean’s arching brows, Dowron’s faint smirk—they’re each priceless. We unravel our plan: I teach engineering modules part-time, lead mobile operations with Dayn, spearhead the covert task force Dowron suggested, and yes—launch the Sunny Assassin as our home base.
No one says no. They nod. They murmur agreements. They shake hands.
I do a little victory dance—I can’t help it. Dayn’s laugh interrupts the room—and I’m diving into his arms before I even realize I’ve moved.
Later, I stand in our workshop, powered by exile solar plates I scavenged. In the center is the physical model of Snowblossom’s ion grid—towers shining with tiny LEDs, asteroid dust pressed into resin to soil the base. Dayn is seated next to me, a blueprint open on his lap that shows seating layouts for trainee fighters. A small holo-beam projects the ship’s exterior, with its name emblazoned across the hull:The Sunny Assassin.
I trace the lines of the ship’s hull. “I want the name painted in yellow. With this little sunburst here.”
He nods. “Yellow. Because chaos.” Then he leans in close. “You did this.”
“Together,” I correct him, blinking up at his storm-dark eyes. “We did this.”
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles—the same gesture we’ve shared hundreds of times, but each is new. “We.”
I pull him forward and kiss him mouth to mouth, love echoing in every pulse.
The rest of the day is a blur of noise—engines, drills, comms chatter. We toggle between instructors and mechanics, betweenbudding field missions and academic credentials. I’m on a roll: tabletop diagrams, lecture outlines, early prototypes of training turrets and comm drones.
At one point, I tuck a stray braid behind my ear while tuning a shield generator, and hear Dayn murmur, “Boss lady.”
I smirk, without looking up. “Just doing my job.”
