She had officially run out of reasons to hate him. Which, naturally, just made her hate him more. During these training sessions, he could take blunt-force impacts like they were nothing, just absorbing with not so much as a grunt and standing straight again. Wouldn’t even leave a bruise.
Of course he was good in a fight. Of course he listened to orders. Of course he was quiet, disciplined, and not at all the feral monster she’d been perfectly justified in knocking out the first time they met. That version of him had been simple. A threat, a weapon, an excuse to stay sharp. This one?
This one was irritating.
She'd spent the better part of the past week watching him move with a soldier’s instinct. Not flawless, but trained. Responsive. Patient. And somehow still awkward as hell around anything not covered in blood or armor. Which made things worse. Because now she couldn’t even be mad at him for being dangerous.
He was just... useful.
And tall. And weirdly polite. And built like the kind of problem she usually solved by slamming with violence or intimidation. Except neither of those would work on him.
She needed to get it together.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t dealt with misplaced attraction before. Combat stress did strange things to the brain. Hormones got confused. Boundaries blurred. She was just recalibrating. That’s all.
What she needed was focus. Control. A mission.
So, she had decided to switch up their strategies. Commander Garrin and Admiral Marrow had both been impressed with the Orryx Station mission and Aurania was sure they would be throwing even harder ops at them soon enough. When Aurania laid out the new formation setup, Soren just tilted his head. His name was up front. Point position.
“You want me taking lead?”
“Look,” she said flatly. “All of Orryx Station I drug you around behind me and then you ended up taking a cannon shot to the face. Now, that could have happened to any of us,” she paused and looked around at the team. “But unlike everyone else, you got the fuck back up. It’s not personal. It’s just physics.”
A faint grimace tugged at his mouth, but he didn’t argue or protest. He just nodded once and muttered, “Understood.”
That annoyed her too.
If he’d pushed back, she could’ve justified switching him out. But he didn’t. He agreed, even though she knew he still felt every ounce of the pain. Like it was perfectly reasonable for him to soak bullets up for them.
Because it is, she reminded herself. That’s what tanks do.
So why did she feel so bad about it?
“Am I still training for armored forward?” Veolo asked with her arms crossed. The tactical shift wasn’t open to discussion, but Veolo's eyes were locked on the formation map. She was just seeking clarification.
Aurania nodded. “Yeah. Soren won’t always be on point, you’ll be right behind him. Teaching is an excellent way to solidify knowledge, so share what you’ve been learning with him.”
Veolo’s ears flicked, then she nodded. “I can do that.”
The formation was clean. Logical. It put their most durable asset out front and their next-best muscle behind him. Simple.
But watching them work through the tandem drills—something was off. Veolo’s timing stuttered when Soren pivoted too fast. She kept adjusting her stance like she was too hyper-aware of him. She was still sharp, and it wasn’t anything that Aurania thought would get in the way during a mission. Not yet, at least. But she made a mental note to keep an eye on it. She wouldn’t brush Veolo’s struggles aside like she had back home.
When Aurania returned to her private quarters she saw a message waiting for her. She was pretty sure she knew who it was from before she opened it, but seeing Samara's name still brought a smile to her face.
Because there were no methods of FTL communication other than a courier ship with a Jump Drive, galactic society had evolved to using a blockchain style network that was routinely updated as messengers flicked around to different stations and planets. Updates to and from Samara would happen at a slower pace than if they were within the same star system. They'd already been gone from Nox for a couple weeks, and this was the first message she'd received from home.
Aurania eagerly sat down and opened it up.
To my dear little sister,
I hope you are doing well, all things considered. Things are well at home, the rebuilding progress after the quake is going steady. Rinara says the weather will progressively grow warmer as time goes on, along with more strange weather patterns. But for the moment, we are experiencing (sometimes a bit overly) sunny days with random bouts of warm rain. I know the planet is technically in peril, but it does not quite feel like it, not yet at least.
I'm sure you have your hands full, not just with Liberty Union missions, but with the newest additions to your close-knit team. Inelius is a wonderful fit, I think, as is his adorable purple counterpart. Please let them know that Inelius’ parents accepted the offer to move to Berilinsk several days after you departed. I expect by the time you actually read this message, their move will be complete.
Tamiyo is quite the surprise, don't you think? There's more to that one than we've seen, I think. Treat her with kindness, but I think you know not to mistake her own gentle nature for weakness. Synthetic or no, there is a fire inside that one, linked to the Glimmane Beast in the room.
Soren.
I know you are conflicted about him, maybe not all can see it as well as me (though I think many have noticed), but he has had an effect on you like no other I've seen. Sure, it may be due to his strange, supernatural abilities or whatever they are, but I suspect it is more than that. HE, is more than that, than those powers. I know you have struggled in the past with connection, maybe not as much as Riza, but I think that is why she follows you now, she sees something of herself in you.
They are all like that, your precious team. They either mirror you in some way, or shall come to. You have always been a great leader, and as always, we view you as our champion and hero. Okay, I think I have started to ramble. I just find that, despite knowing you since you were born, I find myself wishing we talked more anytime you're gone like this.
I won't beg or plead or pray that you come back to us, Little Sister, not like there is any chance of it not happening. But come back to us true to yourself. A journey to save one's planet is more rare than once in a lifetime, and I don't see how it could not change you. So please, let it, if it tries. And if that involves the strange man from Earth, then maybe let him too. Do not put your walls up.
I love you, Aurania.
“Sam-Mama”
Aurania smiled wide and laughed quietly at the signature. She hadn't called her “Sam-Mama” since she was a toddler learning to speak, but Samara loved to bring it up every couple of years to cheer her up. It's not like four-foot-tall Aurania had meant it as any sort of predictor, but seeing as Samara was pregnant for the 13th time, there was a small irony to it.
She sat up straight and hit reply, immediately diving into a full-scale report of Orryx Station, the training, the lack of updates on a solution as of yet (even though she knew it was early). She typed and typed and typed, falling into an almost therapeutic trance. Strange, how she could sometimes talk more openly with her sister when it wasn't face to face. But when she looked over the message, it read more like a field report than a letter to family.
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
Still, she signed it, deciding a lengthy field report was better than something scarce that she struggled to write. Just before she sent it, she dropped two lines down from her signature. With shaky hands, she typed:
P.S. I will… try.
And then she hit send before the urge to delete it arose.
Aurania leaned back in her chair and let out a long sigh.
A long yawn escaped Tamiyo, despite her best efforts to keep it in. She sat in the common room that their team shared, on a barstool seat at the kitchenette counter where Brolgar spent most of his time. She was nursing a cup of tea that the d'moria man had given her to help wake up, but she still felt like a zombie.
“Looks like thas not touching ye,” Brolgar noted, staring at her mug.
Lips parted, eyes bleary, Tamiyo slowly looked down at it, then up at the large, rough face hidden behind a long, gray beard. She shook her head with no change in expression or consciousness.
“Perhaps somethin’ a wee bit stronger.” He grabbed her mug and downed it himself in one gulp, then turned to quickly wash the mug. He quickly brewed a cup of hot brown liquid for her, the aroma filling the entire common room, then handed her back the mug.
Her eyes shifted to it at the speed of smell, and she said, “I dunno, Brolgar. I've never tried coffee. Isn't it supposed to be bitter?”
“Have ye’ yet to dislike anythin’ that I set in front'of ye?”
She breathed out the word, “Fair,” still not unconvinced she wasn't dreaming. Then she lifted the mug to her lips, took a whiff and already felt more awake. Carefully, Tamiyo took a sip—
Her tongue buzzed. She swallowed.
Her eyes opened.
A shiver ran up her spine.
“Got dayum,” she said, breathing fast through her nose. “Are my antennae quivering? Am I talking fast?”
“No and yes,” Brolgar said gruffly. Then he waved her away. He flat out refused to talk to Soren, with good reason, but he at least tolerated Tamiyo's presence. Still, any interaction between them seemed to quickly wear out its welcome, and she didn't want to irritate the grieving father.
She spun the stool about and jumped to her feet, mug of brown gold in hand. She walked toward the large door but turned back when she reached the threshold, just pausing and taking in the place of comfort.
The common room was cozy, a place where the team could unwind between missions and training. A massive L-shaped couch dominated the left-center of the room, its cushions slightly oversized to accommodate lacravida frames. The material was durable but worn in spots, with the kind of gentle sag that came from being used daily. There were always a few soft blankets laying about, and a pair of low tables sat around it for whenever someone needed a place to set a mug, a tablet, or a bag of snacks they would inevitably forget.
The couch faced a massive screen that could be used by anyone. Sometimes there were movies, serial shows, even video games from time to time.
Between the couch and the screen, the floor was more than just floor. It had become its own lounging zone. Thick modular mats had been laid down, layered over each other and arranged with ergonomic floor pillows and movable backrests. Someone had even tucked a few portable heating panels beneath the mats to keep the area warm, and a soft throw blanket lay abandoned across one corner like someone had cocooned and fled mid-movie.
The far-left corner was quieter: several lounge chairs nestled near a low bookshelf stacked with physical novels, old game cases, and a few Liberty Union manuals someone probably meant to return. A small round table there often doubled as a solo reading spot or a low-stakes card table, depending on who claimed it first.
Against the far wall was a wide rectangular viewport, its edges lined with subtle lighting strips. The starscape outside moved by as the ship traveled via Jump Drive. A padded bench ran beneath the glass, just deep enough to sit or lay back on. Someone had added a pillow to one end.
To the right, the space flowed into Brolgar’s galley. His setup was nothing fancy, just a line of cabinets, two modular burners, and a heatplate wide enough to hold several pots at once, but it had become the gravitational center of many team evenings. A counter lined with metal trays divided the cooking space from the rest of the room, and a handful of mismatched stools were arranged in a semi-circle so others could hover near and chat while food was prepped.
The near-right corner, just past the galley, had evolved into what Tamiyo jokingly called the "tinker zone." A collapsible workbench had been anchored to the wall, currently folded down and half-covered in someone’s half-dissembled drone. Toolkits were stacked in crates beneath it, and a vertical charging rack blinked softly with indicators from half a dozen headsets and handhelds.
Near the door, in both corners, the team had set up the “grab-and-go” zones, small recessed alcoves with personal lockers, a hydration dispenser, and a wall-mounted board for notes and dumb inside jokes. Someone, probably Amalia, had drawn a cartoonishly muscled stick figure labeled “SOREN’S FINAL FORM” on one of the writable panels. It had not been erased.
All of it together gave the room a kind of lived-in gravity, like a nest built by people who knew what it meant to be tired and still feel safe.
Tamiyo’s eyes suddenly went wide, her entire body going rigid. "Shit! Soren's checkup!" She spun on her heel and bolted down the hallway, mug clutched tight in both hands.
When she burst into the medbay, Soren was already seated on the exam table, his massive frame dwarfing the equipment around him. Elias stood beside him, scanning a tablet, a focused frown on his face. They both looked up as she entered, their gazes landing simultaneously on her face, then shifting to her hands.
“Whatcha got there?” Soren asked.
“Hot bean juice taste like chocolate make brain go fast.” Tamiyo was pretty sure her antennae were twitching with a mind of their own.
Elias and Soren just stared wide-eyed back at her.
Then Elias eased his way toward her and gently pried the mug from her fingers as if he were handling an unexploded bomb. He set it carefully on a side table, well out of her reach.
Then he turned back to Soren. “Any new developments with your abilities?”
Soren shook his head. “Not really. Extreme physical or emotional duress seems to set them off.”
“Your language comprehension has come along nicely,” Elias noted, tapping his tablet. “Aura even said her headaches have gone away.”
“That’s good,” Soren said, a flicker of relief crossing his face.
“How have you been sleeping?” Elias asked. “Any more strange dreams or memories like the one you and Aura shared?”
“Uh… no.”
Elias cocked an eyebrow at Soren. “You kinda… hesitated there.”
“Well…” Soren’s head bobbed side to side for a moment, a sheepish look crossing his face. “I may not… be sleeping at the same time as her.”
Elias narrowed his eyes. “Go on.”
Soren took a quick breath. “I’ve found I can go longer without sleeping than… before. And, other than that first dream memory, they seem to be triggered by us sleeping at the same time.”
“Both of your subconsciouses relaxing and opening up,” Tamiyo noted, taking a couple steps closer and analyzing him.
“Yeah,” Soren nodded. “So, when I do choose to sleep, I’ve just been… strategically doing it when I’m pretty sure she’ll be awake for a while.”
Elias glanced at Tamiyo and they both chuckled.
“What?” Soren asked, confused.
“It’s just cute,” Tamiyo said with a grin.
His eyes dropped down in embarrassment.
“But nothing else?” Elias pressed. “Walk me through Orryx Station one more time. You got hit and didn’t die. You stand back up—the others see you lit up like you’ve got a neutron star for a brain. According to you, everything is dialed up to eleven. But what else? What did it feel like?”
Soren rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know. Hot? Like… pressure building up behind my eyes.”
“Be specific,” Tamiyo chimed in. “Did it feel like adrenaline?”
His jaw worked as he thought. “Kind of. Like that pump you feel right when you get done with the warm up for your workout but you don’t have any muscle fatigue yet. Like when you pop your back really good and you feel extremely loose—”
“So it feels good,” Elias said.
Soren’s eyes flicked up to him. “Mixed with being on fire.”
Elias stared back, then flatly said, “So no, then.”
Tamiyo began pacing around Soren, studying him like a puzzle. She gently poked at him in a couple spots—neck, chest, spine. “It feels internal though, right?”
He nodded. “Definitely internal.”
“Why definitely?” Elias asked.
Soren perked up a little. “Well, I do remember one thing. Back on Nox, the first couple times I was unconscious after waking up like this—I remember seeing a ball of light.”
Elias exchanged a look with Tamiyo. “A ball of light?”
“Yeah. Golden-green and silver, it was really dim the first time I remembered seeing it. And it was like it was floating in a black void.”
“You saw this more than once?” Elias asked.
Soren nodded. “After Aurania knocked me out. It was brighter then—not a lot, but definitely brighter. It’s kind of like… staring at a star through welding goggles.”
“Hmm,” Elias said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “Soren, you ever try meditation? Like, before we figured out that it would help with Aura’s headaches?”
Soren shrugged. “No, not really. I was a soldier, Elias. Not a lot of introspection and emotional regulation going on. Just trauma suppression.”
“Sounds about right for ancient Conservatory doctrine,” Elias noted dryly. “Well you need to keep it up. Just because the headaches are gone and you don’t need a translator anymore doesn’t mean you should stop. There’s a ton we don’t know about your powers and I think you quieting your mind to look inside is the only way to figure it out.”
“That makes sense,” Soren nodded again with a tense look on his face.
Elias turned to Tamiyo. “Can you help keep him at it? Help build the habit?”
“Sure!” Tamiyo chirped. “I can monitor as well. I’ll look up some information to be a better guide but if you have anything in mind, send it over when you get a chance.”
“Yeah, I can think of a couple things,” Elias said. “I’ll get them to you later today.”
Soren hopped off the table, stretching his massive arms.
“Come on,” Tamiyo said, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door. “Let's see if we can find a nice quiet spot to meditate. And more coffee.”