Page 27 of Starlight, Starbright
But the cascade continues. For every system I repair, two more degrade. Like fighting a fire that spreads faster than I can contain it.
My console flashes red. Critical alert. The primary power coupling is overloading.
“Jian, I need you on the primary coupling. Now.”
“On it.” She's already moving, grabbing tools, heading for the access corridor.
I keep working. Rerouting, compensating, stealing power from non-essential systems to keep life support functional. The calculations blur together. Numbers and equations and desperate math trying to hold a ship together through sheer stubbornness.
My eyes burn. I refuse to cry. Crying is for after everyone survives. For after I've saved them. For after I've proven that my paranoia was justified and my solutions are sound.
The primary coupling holds. Barely. Jian returns with singed gloves and a grim expression. “Bought us maybe two days. Then it goes critical for real. The degradation is accelerating.”
Two days. Environmental stabilizes in Ring B. Life support pressure equalizes in sections 4 through 7. The sensor ghosts clear as I strip corrupted feeds from the system.
Brief stability. We have hours, maybe a day, before it all comes apart again.
I retreat to my office, pulling up the full damage assessment. Need to see the complete picture. Need to understand what we're really facing.
The numbers resolve on my screen. I stare at them. Run the calculations again. Get the same answer.
My legs give out.
I slide down the wall beside my desk, ending up on the floor with my knees pulled up and my tablet showing impossible math. The metal wall is cold against my back. The carols are playing “The First Noel” now, muffled through my office door, and the beauty of it makes something crack inside my chest.
Someone planned this perfectly. Someone who knows exactly how I think, how I work, how I solve problems. They designed this cascade specifically to beat me.
The door opens. Footsteps. I don't look up.
“Paige.”
Zoric's voice.
“We're not going to make it.” The admission is a flat, dead weight in the air. “I've tried everything. But whoever designed this knew exactly what they were doing. They beat me.”
Silence. Then he's crouching in front of me, his hands on my arms.
“That's not true.”
“Yes it is.” I finally look at him. His face is tight with worry. “Look at the data. We have two days before the coupling blows for good. Even if I shut down every non-essential system, we don't have enough power to maintain life support for ten thousand people. The math doesn't work.”
“Then we find a different equation.”
“There isn't one!” My voice breaks. “I'm good, Zoric. I'm really good. But I'm not good enough for this.”
His hands tighten on my arms. His markings flare brilliant gold, flooding my small office with warm light.
He pulls me up. Not gently. Firmly, lifting me to my feet, and then his mouth is on mine.
Desperate. Certain. Absolutely overwhelming.
I freeze for half a second. Then my hands are in his hair, pulling him closer, kissing him back like he's the only solid thing in a universe falling apart.
He's warm. So warm. His skin feels like heated stone under my palms, and his mouth tastes faintly of the terrible coffee from the mess hall. His hands slide from my arms to my waist, pulling me against him, and every point of contact sends heat flooding through me.
The kiss breaks. We're both gasping. His forehead rests against mine. Even with my eyes closed, I feel surrounded by warmth and light.
“I should have done this days ago,” he says. His voice is wrecked. Raw.
