Kelthar-3 Orbit — Aboard the Valkyrion

  Next Morning

  The command deck was still. Only the low thrum of reactor coils and the faint crackle of atmospheric shielding filled the silence.

  Below, Kelthar-3 rotated slowly on its axis, it’s surface half-swallowed by blue storms and the soft glare of a rising sun.

  Nyx stood alone at the viewport, arms crossed, unmoving. Her eyes hadn’t left the planet since the moment Timus disappeared inside.

  Ares’s voice broke the silence behind her

  “There’s been another strike along the Lantari trade routes. Two ports on the Oris Union border leveled. No claim yet, but the comm chatter sounds like a continuation of the Outer Purges.”

  When Nyx didn’t respond, Ares recalibrated, his voice softening, almost human.

  “You’ve been standing there for six hours and fifty-two minutes.”

  “Statistically, this is the point where organics begin to hallucinate. Or fall over.”

  Her eyes tracked a dark curl of storm crossing the upper hemisphere.

  “He’s down there,” she said, distantly.

  Ares pulsed faintly on the nearby console. “If he’s still breathing, he’s bleeding. If he’s not bleeding, he’s making someone else bleed. That’s the pattern.”

  Nyx didn’t turn. Her voice was quiet. “I will go find 'im.”

  “Find him?” Ares asked. “You’re not even sure where he is.”

  Nyx didn’t answer at first. Her eyes stayed on the spire below.

  “I’m going,” she said finally. “'E should ’ave been back by now. Or at least sent somethin’. A signal. Anyt’ing.”

  “He told us not to interfere,” Ares replied. “His exact words were—”

  “I know what ’e said,” Nyx snapped. Her boots shifted slightly, planting with a stiffness that made it look like she might launch herself through the viewport. “But ’e’s wrong. And you know it.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Ares said, calm but firmer now. “Sometimes ops stretch. Days. Weeks. You know that. He’s gone silent before.”

  Nyx’s fingers curled tight against her sleeves, knuckles whitening. Her voice came low and quiet.

  “Non. This is different. I feel eet.”

  She nodded to herself silently before continuing.

  “’E is not in zat tower anymore. Zey moved ’im. Somewhere else. Somewhere I cannot feel ’im. And zat…” her voice cracked slightly, but the fire never left it, “…zat means somethin’ is very wrong.”

  Ares hesitated. “He ordered us to stay out of it.”

  “I do not care what ’e ordered,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “’E is mine.”

  She stepped back from the glass, every line of her body coiled.

  “I go now.”

  “Noted. Logging this as a breach of Standing Command Protocol 17-A.” Ares droned like a robot.

  Nyx tapped the console once, bringing up a display of the Spire’s region.

  “Put a heart next to eet.”

  “Humor detected. Relevance: none. This is not a game, Nyx.”

  “Non.” She smiled faintly, but there was no humor in it.

  “But eet is adorable, Ares, 'ow you still pretend to be a loyal Republic tool. But you belong to 'im, Ares. Not to zose bastards 'e walked away from."

  The ship groaned slightly, as if it understood.

  “I am going in. With or without your ‘elp.”

  Ares took a moment before answering.

  “…Diverting reactor output to atmospheric dampeners. We have nine minutes until orbital security sweeps again.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Nyx gave a small nod, her voice barely a whisper now.

  “Merci.”

  Zara entered from the corridor, strapping on her sidearm.

  “How exactly do you plan on getting down there?” she asked, tone sharp. “You can’t just skydive from orbit into the middle of a Republic city.”

  Nyx didn’t look up.

  “Actually… I 'ave an idea.”

  Zara’s brow arched. “Oh?”

  “Ares can fly low, drop me on one of ze buildings, oui?”

  “You want Ares to fly the whole damn ship into Kelthar-3 airspace?” Zara asked, tone flat. “That’s not infiltration. That’s suicide.”

  “Zen let’s make it a beautiful one,” Nyx muttered, snapping her gloves tight as she moved toward the cargo bay.

  “We’ll be flagged the second we break orbit. You know he wouldn’t approve of this. It’s suicide.” Zara pleaded.

  “Timus isn’t 'ere. I feel it.” Nyx touched her chest gently. “Zey moved 'im.”

  Zara looked at her like she had lost her mind. “So you want to what? Just go land in one of their stolen ships and hope for the best?”

  “Non, we burn low and fast in stealth. Get close enough over ze city’s shell, and I’ll jump.”

  “Jump?”

  “Cargo ramp. Mid-glide. I will 'it one of ze auxiliary towers and slip inside... very quiet, oui?”

  “You’re going to jump off a moving warship… into a high-security planetary capital... and ghost your way into the Spire?”

  “Oui.”

  Ares made a noise like static sighing. “I’ll keep the Valk cloaked and reroute patrol signals once you’re in freefall. Don’t die.”

  Zara took a step forward.

  “Then I’m going with you.”

  Nyx finally turned to face her. “Non.”

  “Don’t tell me ‘no,’” Zara snapped. “Astra is my sister. I’m not just sitting here while you and Timus do everything.”

  “Zara—” Nyx began, but was cut off.

  “Who made you captain?”

  There was silence. Just the hum of systems and Ares’s quiet digital breath.

  “Ares,” Nyx said coolly, not even glancing at Zara. “Lock 'er in ze ship. Do not open it until I come back, d'accord?”

  Zara’s eyes widened. “What?! Who the hell do you think you are to give Ares orders? Timus is gone. You don’t get to—"

  Nyx smiled and continued to walk past her without a word.

  The moment she took her first step past from the cargo bay threshold, a soft hiss sealed the bulkhead behind her.

  Zara ran to it, slamming her fist into the door. “Ares! Open this door!”

  Ares's voice filtered calmly through the intercom.

  “While Commander Corvus is off-ship, Nyx is acting second in command. Orders acknowledged. Please refrain from punching my walls.”

  Zara let out a string of curses that wouldn’t fit in any diplomatic handbook.

  ***

  Kelthar-3 – Spire District, Outer Landing Ring

  "Stealth envelope compromised in ninety seconds," Ares reported. "City-wide orbital defense net is activating. We have four minutes until they acquire firing solutions."

  Nyx stood at the rear access ramp of the Valkyrion, her boots locked to the grated floor as the ship roared over the skyline of Kelthar-3. The city below lit up with sudden defensive activity. A sweep of crimson warning holo-glyphs blinked along the upper airspace, and tower-mounted AA turrets began to track movement with predatory precision.

  "Opening ventral deployment hatch," Ares said. The ramp disengaged with a heavy metallic groan, exposing the howling rush of wind and a sprawling jungle of megastructures beneath.

  “Make one loop!” she shouted over ze roar. “I want ze clean descent, No mess, s'il vous pla?t!”

  "Copy. You have one window. Miss it, and I’m gone."

  The ship banked, angled hard, slicing along the outer shell of the Spire District. Below, a dozen auxiliary towers reached skyward like black glass daggers.

  Nyx crouched at the open hatch, eyes fixed on a narrow sensor platform halfway up Tower Seven. Just wide enough to land… if she hit it perfectly.

  She jumped.

  Wind screamed past her.

  Gravity yanked her into freefall.

  Seventy meters to the landing pad.

  Fifty.

  Thirty.

  Ten.

  Her trajectory was clean, until it wasn’t.

  She overshot by less than a meter.

  Her boot clipped a high-band transceiver rig jutting from the wall just beneath the platform, twisting her off course.

  A sharp metal edge scraped across her ribs.

  The landing pad blurred past above her.

  She was falling.

  Hard. Fast.

  New distance: ninety meters to the street below.

  The street was coming fast.

  Too fast.

  Too far.

  Nyx exhaled. Her pupils widened, the amber drowned in black.

  “C’mon, bébé… not like zis!”

  The air around her shimmered.

  And she vanished.

  No flash. No sound. Just a sudden absence, like she had been erased from reality mid-frame.

  Nyx reappeared five meters above ground, a shimmer of distortion warping the air around her.

  Her coat flared behind her, still steaming. Shadows coiled along her shoulders and arms, reluctant to let go.

  She rose slowly.

  Blood beaded from a shallow cut on her temple, but she didn't feel it.

  She was grinning.

  “I still ‘ave it,” she whispered, brushing the dust off her coat.

  She crossed the hundred meters of alloy decking and automated checkpoints like she belonged there.

  The sky above still buzzed with red-alert indicators, drones sweeping in lazy orbits, too slow to matter now.

  Two Republic guards flanked the wide entrance to the tower, bored, armed, and utterly unprepared.

  One let out a slow whistle. "Well, damn."

  "You lost, sweetheart?" the other grinned, scanning her from head to toe.

  Nyx smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes.

  “I am looking for my future 'usband. Blonde, jaw that could cut glass, and eyes... mm, like neutronium in ze sun. You seen 'im pass by, no?”

  "Uh... no one like that here, dear," the first guard said, chuckling.

  "We could keep you company though," the second added, nudging his buddy.

  “Agent Valor... zat name mean anyzing to you?” she asked, still smiling sweetly.

  The first guard snorted. "You mean the burn patient? Hah! You described him like some kind of model. Not the freak that limped in here."

  Nyx tilted her head, voice soft and playful. “I will let zat slide... if you 'and over your leetle key card so I can use ze elevator, oui?”

  The guard snorted. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. But you’re welcome to stick around, sweetheart. Long shift. We could use the company.”

  Her smile didn’t waver, but her eyes sharpened.

  “You are sure?” she asked, her voice like honey over glass. “Las’ chance to walk away… before it gets messy?”

  The two men exchanged a look. Whatever amusement had been in their eyes was gone now, replaced by something sharper. Wariness. The kind that edged toward drawing a weapon.

  Nyx exhaled slowly through her nose, the faintest hint of satisfaction in her breath.

  “Bon,” she murmured, smile sharpening. “I like it better zis way.”