Page 80 of Phoenix's Last Heist
Of the way he looked in the landing bay of theHephaestus, golden light bleeding over his broad shoulders and handsome face twisted in panic and despair. Of the quiet comfort of his presence—how he'd sit across from me during our nights on theAldrin-136, reading my old romance novels because I had little else to offer, while I perused my father’s journals. Not asking, not judging—okay, maybe a little judging—but mostly just beingthere. Of the way he reached for me in bed, not with hunger, but with gentleness, as if even my wreckage was something he wanted to hold.
I never wanted to pull him into this. He had a path, a purpose, something so noble I don’t think I’ll ever have the capacity to understand. I don’t know what he saw in me. I only know that being near him made me want to see it, too.
But I don’t get to have people like that. I don’t get to keep good things. The galaxy doesn’t hand those out to people like me. I destroy everything I hold too closely. It's what I was made for—damage, not devotion. Velusians are forbidden to love. Maybe my problem is that I’m only half Velusian.
The transceiver blinks—faint, fluttering, but alive.
A spark jumps from the board and kisses my knuckle, but I barely feel it. I press my ear close, adjusting the dial and rerouting through an old smuggler satband, then bouncing off a low-orbit relay that should've gone dead three cycles ago.
Please, please, please, please.
My fingers move on muscle memory and desperation, patching together a makeshift call into the unfeeling, lonely void of space.
“Hephaestus,” I whisper, lips brushing the receiver. “Come in,Hephaestus. Evie, please—tell me you’re still up. Tell me you’re receiving.”
For a moment, nothing but static. Then—like the voice of a dream cracking through lonely silence…
“Pinky Pie?”
My breath catches. Her voice hits me like a high-velocity re-entry, and tears well in my eyes before I can stop them. Get ahold of yourself, Lyra!
“Holy hell, you’re alive. You sound—stars, where are you?” Evie’s worried tone only makes me want to cry harder.
“Brill’s compound,” I croak, my voice raw from disuse. “Out on Ooneryx. I'm stuck. He’s planning to sell me.”
“Oh, Lyra…I can’t get to you,” she says, sharp regret lacing every word. “When the Void Stalkers left our ship, they tagged the rest of our cruisers. I think Orion got out on the only one they missed. As soon as we try to make a jump and get you, they’d trace us straight to you. We’re stuck out here about as useful as a screen door on a submarine. But—wait—I can get you to someone. Hold on.”
I hold on like I’m dangling over the edge of a cliff, and there are agonies of sharp rocks and toothy predators lurking below.
There’s a click. Then another, followed by silence. Then?—
Identity confirmed, says the voice I thought I extinguished. My heart leaps up into my throat, choking me with emotion. Tears form so quickly, it makes my eyeballs ache.
“Ada?” I whisper, breathless.
Lyra. How can I assist you?
I squeeze my eyes shut, tears sliding down the bridge of my nose and falling soundless onto the console.
“I thought—after the Yanvin Protocol—I thought you were gone,” I blubber, trying to keep my voice down, but it comes out as an emotion-choked shrill hiss.
Orion uploaded me to Evie’s cruiser. He would have been unable to find his way to Epsilon-6 and Agent Vega without doing so. I suspected you wouldn’t consider this before enacting the Yanvin Protocol. Fortunately, he was able to preserve our data in time.
Orion.
I grip the receiver like it’s the only real thing left in the world. “He’s with you?”
Yes.
My lungs seize. A sob punches through my ribs like a piston.
“Put him on,” I say, voice trembling. “Please.”
There’s more static on the line. My pulse thuds against my jaw and through my temples, building upon the ache of stress, dehydration, and exhaustion. It all evaporates in an instant, though, as soon as I hear a familiar deep voice on the other end of the line.
“Lyra?”
It’s not just relief. It’s not even joy. It’s grief, raw and sudden and aching, because I hear him and realize how much I missed him, how much I need him, and how much I don’t think I deserve him.
