Interstellar Spark

Natasha stirred from a dreamless void, the hum of the life-pod fading as its lid hissed open. She blinked into dim light, her skin bare against the cool metal, yet a strange warmth lingered within—sweet and unshakable, like a melody half-remembered. "Michael!" she whispered, the name a spark on her lips.

The pod's cabin yawned empty. No echo answered her call.

Her heart lurched. She scrambled up, feet unsteady on the sleek floor. Then—a groan, faint and ragged, rose from below. There he slumped, Michael, pale as ash against the pod's base, his eyes dim, as if the stars themselves had drained him.

She stumbled out, a cry catching in her throat, and gathered him close. "What's happened? Don't frighten me so!"

His lips twitched into a weak grin, a trembling hand brushing her golden hair. "Blasted hyperspace shift—nearly wrung me out. Help me up—let's see where we've landed."

Relief flooded her, sharp and bright. She eased him to the helm, settling him there as his eyes fluttered shut. Her fingers danced over the nav-system, then froze. "Merlin's stars! Five light-years from Fallen Paradise. How'd you drag us to this forsaken pit?"

Michael's voice rasped, soft but sure. "Right where we need to be. The galaxy's only haven for us—a den of rogues, straight from the Institute's dusty files."

Her face paled, eyes wide. "You don't know how wretched that place is."

He smirked, faint but bold. "With me at your side, what's there to dread?"

Natasha shot him a glare, lips pursing in mock indignation. "Too many novels—you're turning sly." Yet she softened, curling into him, her voice a tender hum. "Michael, I love you. I'd face anything for you."

His hand traced her bare back, warm with devotion. "And I'd do anything for you. Water, though—please?"

She grinned, rising from the sofa they'd claimed. Water and light were his fuel, and he craved both now. From a compartment, she fetched two sleek kits, chuckling. "No streams here, but these space meals—injectable—will keep you hydrated for days."

Michael's gaze roamed her, teasing and bright. "So, my lady's embraced the freedom of the bare life?"

She swatted the air with a look. "Keep jesting, and I'll cloak myself—leave your wicked eyes wanting."

He laughed, low and rich. "Your face alone, with a sprinkle of fancy, feeds my sight plenty."

Her eyes narrowed, sweet and sharp. "Which tale spun that charming line? Some prince, I wager?"

She opened a kit, drawing out a cylinder of shimmering green gas. Michael extended his hand. "Heartbreaker Prince, maybe—I forget."

Natasha giggled, pressing the cylinder to his palm with a click. The gas hissed in, and he sighed, eyes closing as it seeped into him, stirring life back to his weary frame.

When he opened them, she'd injected herself, staring at him with a gaze soft as twilight. He smiled. "You're a prize beyond measure—unraveling me entirely."

She ducked her head, shy and glowing. "I've won something too—the sweetest gift." A quiet laugh escaped her, a secret shared.

Beep! The scanner shrilled, cutting the stillness. Something loomed—unidentified—six hundred thousand kilometers out.

Their joy faltered. Michael's energy flickered, too thin for another leap. If they couldn't flee, what then?

The ship hung silent, engines stilled.

They gaped at the screen—hundreds of glinting specks, ships, at least three hundred strong.

Michael's reserves waned, but his senses flared, stretching fifty-five thousand kilometers. He stiffened. "Not your folk. Their hulls shimmer, shifting colors."

Natasha's breath hitched. "Viper Legion—here?"

He wove a frail thread of energy, cloaking the hull in an electronic veil—his old trick from the Federation chase. "Nearest refuge? Maiden system—seventy-five light-years off. Two livable worlds, three ripe with mines. Clever spot."

Her face drained white, voice trembling. "The Vipers—sneaking from the galaxy's edge, dodging every outpost. That's why they vanished! I've got to warn the Federation."

Her hands flew over the console, punching in codes with desperate speed.

Michael watched, knowing she'd send a hyperspace flare. He didn't stop her.

She paused, eyes wretched, then steeled herself and pressed. The ship quaked, a spark bursting aft as the signal roared into the void—set to strike Maiden's defenses in four days.

He revved the engines, aiming for Fallen Paradise. Natasha slid close, fragile as glass, curling into him. "Why didn't you stop me? The Vipers will trace it."

His voice held steady, warm with love. "I'd do anything for you—don't you recall?"

He lifted her gently, carrying her to the pod.

Tears brimmed as she gripped him. "Michael! If we're to die, let it be together."

He laughed, bright and fierce. "No death for you—or me!"

She blinked, bewildered. "The Vipers would spare us?"

He shook his head. "Not a chance. They're closing—half an hour at most."

He eased her into the pod, setting its escape course. She squirmed, voice rising. "What are you doing?"

A soft glow pulsed from his hand, stilling her fight. She watched, helpless, as he linked her to the sleep system.

He bent low, lips brushing her shoulder with fervent care. "You'll reach Maiden in days. I'll hold the Vipers off—keep them from snagging you before the jump. Trust me—I'll survive. What's worse than Inferno? Live, and we'll find each other again."

Her tear-streaked eyes clung to him as the lid sealed shut.

Michael stepped back, guiding the pod to the launch bay. He masked it with energy, a meteor's guise, then triggered the release.

A thunderous boom shook the ship.

The pod streaked out, vanishing in a flash of near-light speed.

He slipped into the flight suit with calm ease, masked his face, and sank onto the sofa, staring at the viewport. Viper ships swarmed, their shifting hues melting into the dark—near unseen.

Energy stirred within him, faint but fierce.

A blaze erupted—the hull shimmered translucent, then the aft reactor roared, a thermonuclear burst flinging Michael amid wreckage into the starry deep.

Galaxy One thrummed with power, its forty cruisers poised for hyperspace, racing to Maiden in a blink.

Natasha's signal had struck an hour ago, rippling through Maiden's warning net to every Federation base.

Aglaia, commander-in-chief, barked orders—full mobilization.

In the strategy room, Takahashi's face darkened. "Chancellor! You'd heed a traitor's cry? Vipers there? Preposterous!"

Her smile was faint, certain. "I trust her. I know her heart."

Fang Tianyu inclined his head. "I stand with the Chancellor. A lie wouldn't craft so wild yet shrewd a tale."

Nicole marched in, saluted sharp, then spoke. "Word's come—Natasha's pod hit Maiden."

Jonathan's face brightened. "And the Inferno Being?"

Nicole shook her head, pulling Aglaia aside, voice tart. "Revolting—she stumbled out bare as a newborn."

Fang Tianyu stepped near. "Chancellor! Time for cosmic rest."

Aglaia's laugh rang out, light and trembling, like petals caught in wind.

The room stared, captivated, as she stretched—every eye drawn to her grace. She sighed, serene. "I'll sleep deep, renew, and deal the Vipers a blow they'll rue. They're the ones overreached now—not us."