Page 56 of Alien Attachment
The effect is immediate and dramatic. Warning lights flash across the fuel cell’s display in urgent patterns, and a high-pitched alarm begins to wail with the specific tone that means ‘potential catastrophic failure.’ The reaction is exactly what we hoped for—workers abandoning their stations and running toward the potential danger, guards shouting orders and establishing a perimeter around the “leaking” cell.
“Now,” Jhorn’s voice whispers directly into my mind through our bond, warm and reassuring despite the chaos around us.
I sprint across the open space to the Nomad, diving through the partially dismantled airlock with practiced ease. Inside, the ship is a shadow of her former self—panels removed, wiring exposed, the familiar hum of her systems replaced by eerie silence that makes my heart ache.
I navigate the darkened corridors from memory, my feet finding the familiar paths even in the gloom. Each step brings back memories—six years of life in these halls, of conversations with Lila, of small moments that made this ship more than just metal and circuits.
The command center is in better condition than the rest of the ship, likely because Duran’s crew started their salvage operation from the engine room and worked their way forward. Lila’s main console still stands intact, though the power is off andseveral peripheral systems have been removed. The sight of her darkened screens hits me harder than I expected.
I drop to my knees beside the central column that houses her core processing unit, fingers flying over the manual release panel. “Come on, come on,” I mutter, my heart pounding in my ears. “Please still be here, girl.”
The panel slides open with a reluctant hiss, revealing the glowing blue crystal matrix that houses Lila’s consciousness. Relief floods through me so intensely that I feel Jhorn’s answering surge of emotion through our bond, his joy at my success warming me from within.
“I found her,” I whisper, knowing he can hear me through our connection. “She’s still intact.”
I carefully disconnect the primary power couplings and attach my data extractor, my hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my system. The transfer sequence initiates with a soft chime, and a progress bar appears on the small display, moving with agonizing slowness.
“How much longer on that distraction?” I ask through our bond, watching the percentage climb with frustrating deliberation.
The alarm protocols will reset automatically in approximately two minutes, Jhorn responds, his mental voice calm despite the urgency of our situation. I cannot extend them without risking detection.
“Copy that,” I mutter, willing the transfer to move faster. “Just need another minute...”
The progress bar hits 85%, then 90%. Outside, I can hear the alarm winding down, voices approaching as the workers return to their stations. My pulse quickens, but I force myself to remain calm. Almost there.
“Almost there,” I whisper, as if Lila can hear me. “Just hold on, girl.”
At 98%, footsteps echo in the corridor leading to the bridge. My hand drops to my blaster, ready to defend my position if necessary, though I really hope it doesn’t come to that.
Wait, Jhorn’s voice cautions in my mind. I will create a secondary distraction.
Before I can ask what he means, a series of power surges ripple through the hangar, plunging sections into darkness and causing equipment to malfunction in spectacular fashion. Sparks fly, alarms blare, and the footsteps redirect, moving away from the bridge as the worker rushes to deal with the new crisis.
The transfer completes with a soft chime that sounds like music to my ears. I disconnect the extractor, securing Lila’s matrix safely in its padded container. “Got her,” I announce through our bond, standing with my precious cargo clutched to my chest. “Ready for extraction.”
The eastern exit is currently clear, Jhorn responds. Move now, my light.
I make my way out of the Nomad with one final, regretful glance at what was once my home. There’s no time for sentimentality—the chaos Jhorn created won’t last long, and we need to be gone before order is restored.
I sprint across the hangar floor, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Jhorn meets me at the eastern exit, his cloak billowing around him as he moves with that preternatural grace that never fails to amaze me.
“Nice light show,” I whisper as we slip into the corridor beyond.
“A simple manipulation of their power distribution nodes,” he replies modestly, though I feel his satisfaction through our bond. “I may have also introduced some creative errors into their inventory management system.”
Our return journey is more direct than our approach—with Lila secured, speed takes priority over stealth. We encounter apair of Brotherhood thugs near the maintenance shaft entrance, but Jhorn deals with them before they can raise an alarm, his tendrils emerging from beneath his cloak to render them unconscious with disturbing efficiency.
“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” I mutter as we step over their crumpled forms.
“Impossible,” he responds with complete seriousness. “You are my light. I have no ‘bad side’ where you are concerned.”
The simple statement, delivered with such absolute certainty, makes my heart skip a beat. Even after months together, he can still surprise me with the depth of his devotion.
We reach The Starlight Tether with twelve minutes remaining on Jhorn’s disruption field. I waste no time initiating the launch sequence while Jhorn disconnects from the station’s systems, carefully erasing any trace of our presence with the thoroughness of someone who really doesn’t want to be followed.
“Disengaging docking clamps,” I announce, hands flying over the controls with practiced precision. “Preparing for silent running.”
The ship detaches from the maintenance port with barely a tremor. I guide us away from Obsidian Haven using minimal thrusters, relying on momentum and the station’s natural rotation to carry us clear before engaging the main engines.
