Page 19 of Naughty List Delivery
“Three ships,” Ober mutters, his enhanced senses picking up details faster than the sensors. “Fast, military-grade engines. They’re not broadcasting identification.”
“Krax?” I ask.
“Has to be.” His jaw tightens as he studies the approach vectors. “But they’re not coming for us directly. They’re heading for the orbital freight stations.”
“The Christmas deliveries,” I breathe, understanding flooding through me with sick certainty. “He’s not just hunting us. He’s hunting OOPS Christmas routes. Systematically.”
As if summoned by my words, the console chimes with an incoming message. The display flickers, and suddenly we’re looking at a face I recognize—translucent skin, phosphorescentcirculatory system, enormous black eyes that reflect no warmth whatsoever.
Krax Korvain. And he’s smiling.
“Hello, Nova. I do hope you’re enjoying your Christmas deliveries.” His voice is melodic, beautiful, and cold as the void between stars.
“It’s Noomi,” Ober says firmly, and the protective edge in his voice makes something warm unfurl in my chest. “Her name is Noomi.”
Krax’s smile widens, but there’s no humor in it. “Ah yes, the reinvention. How... touching. Very different from the Nova I remember. Tell me, Noomi—are you enjoying bringing families together? Delivering hope across impossible distances? Very noble work. Very... redemptive.”
Tavia presses closer to her father, who instinctively shields her with his body while keeping his attention on the screen.
“Amazing work you’re doing,” Krax continues conversationally. “So different from your previous occupation. I’ve been watching, you know. Tracking every route, every family, every precious package carrying holiday cheer to the forgotten corners of the galaxy.”
“What do you want, Krax?” I manage, though my voice sounds steadier than I feel.
“I want to discuss choices, dear Noomi. Specifically, the choice you made three years ago when you and your captain there accessed my databases during that charming little heist on my ship. Do you remember what you found?”
Ice runs down my spine. Beside me, Ober goes very still, his attention shifting between the screen and my face with growing understanding.
“I remember,” I whisper.
“Good. Because I’ve been thinking about that choice ever since. The choice you made to send my black market recordsto the authorities instead of keeping them for profit. The choice that destroyed my carefully maintained facade and cost me everything I loved.” His smile could cut diamond. “My mate Sera took our twin daughters and disappeared the moment the authorities came knocking. Haven’t seen them in three years—all because you decided to play hero.”
Tavia’s markings pulse with confusion and growing fear as she processes the implications. Cetus pulls her closer, his own markings flickering with protective anger.
“Your righteousness destroyed three families that day—mine, yours when your partnership fell apart over that choice, and every one I’ve torn apart since,” Krax continues with chilling calm. “That decision taught us all a valuable lesson: good intentions are just another weapon. Now I’m simply more honest about using them.”
“You bastard,” Ober growls, his claws extending involuntarily. “Those families are innocent.”
“So was mine.” Krax’s phosphorescent circulatory system pulses with cold light. “And I’ve decided it’s time to return the favor. I’m going to destroy every Christmas delivery in three sectors. Every family reunion, every child’s holiday joy, every precious moment of connection across the void. Just like your precious Noomi destroyed mine.”
The transmission cuts, leaving us staring at a blank screen while Tavia’s scientific curiosity wars with confusion and Cetus pulls his daughter closer.
“Noomi,” Ober says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of realization that makes my chest tight. “What choice? What exactly did you do?”
And suddenly I’m drowning in memories I’ve spent two years trying to forget. The choice that destroyed Krax’s family. The choice that destroyed mine. The choice that proved I wasn’t strong enough to be the woman Ober needed me to be.
“The choice,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “that ended us.”
6
Deck the Halls with Plasma Fire
Ober
Barelyanhouroutfrom Kepler-7b, and I’m still thinking about Tavia’s bright yellow markings as she waved goodbye from the terraforming station. The kid’s wisdom about “recalibration procedures” keeps echoing in my head, along with the way Noomi had looked when Cetus talked about building something beautiful despite isolation.
The distress signal cuts through hyperspace like a blade, and every enhanced sense I possess screams danger before my conscious mind can process the words.
“Mayday, mayday, this is OOPS convoy Winter Supply, we are under attack—” The transmission dissolves into static and plasma fire, but not before I catch the terror in the pilot’s voice. Young. Probably their first run to the outer rim.
