Page 44 of Silver Slayer

Tyrk leaned over the workbench, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the salvaged assembly. He studied the crystalline threads for a long moment before giving an approving nod. "Remarkable workmanship," he said. "The impact fractured the housing, but the conduit itself absorbed almost no structural damage. Troken engineers know how to protect their critical systems." He glanced at Vala. "A few reinforcements around the stress fractures, and I'd trust it to carry full reactor load."

Vala carefully lowered the junction conduit assembly back onto the workbench. "So would I." His expression sobered as he folded his arms across his chest. "Unfortunately, restoring power to the engine array is only half our problem." He looked from Quin to me before continuing. "The freighter's engine compartment suffered a catastrophic fire during the crash. The rillium chip reservoirs ignited, burning hot enough to destroy the injector manifolds, fuel conduits, and most of the reactor support systems before the suppression arrays finally extinguished the flames."

A heavy silence settled over the cargo hold, carrying the unmistakable weight of bad news waiting to be spoken.

"The freighter's engine compartment suffered a catastrophic fire," Vala said. "The rillium chip reserves ignited during the crash. By the time the suppression systems extinguished the flames, the injector manifolds, fuel conduits, and nearly every usable fuel chip had been destroyed."

Tyrk scratched the base of one black horn. "We were hoping to replenish our reserves."

"We will not be replenishing them." Vala folded his arms across his chest. "Between the rillium remaining aboard my ship and the tellic and rillium chips recovered from the Moktian vessel, we possess only enough energy to repair the reactor, restore the engine array, break free of this planet's gravity, and reach Valose."

His luminous eyes swept over each of us before settling on Quin. "There will be nothing left when we arrive. If the distortion field surrounding this world has intensified since our crash, the increased power demand could exceed our calculations." He paused, the silence stretching between us. "Provided the field remains stable, we should reach Valose with little more than depleted fuel cells."

Quin absorbed this with the steady calm I had come to expect from her. She did not flinch. She did not look away. She simply nodded once, sharp and decisive, and said, “Then let’s hope we have enough to get out of here.”

"The skiff," Tyrk said, straightening from the workbench, "has been sitting dormant for some time. Its power cells are nearly depleted, but they still hold enough charge to carry us beyond Spore Valley and back to your ship."

Vala lifted the junction conduit assembly from the workbench with the steady confidence of a male who understood every part of it. I knew only that the component represented our best chance of escaping this deadly world. Thin blue light flowed through the intricate crystal threads woven beneath its transparent casing, casting ghostly ribbons across the battered walls of the cargo hold.

I fell into step behind Vala and Tyrk while Quin walked a few paces ahead. The quiet undercurrent of Quin’s relief and anticipation flowed from her. She was eager to leave this deadly world behind, but Valose was never her destination. It was only another stop on her journey back to Earth.

I buried the ache beneath the discipline expected of every Valosian warrior and focused on the task before us. If helping Quin reach home meant surrendering the greatest blessing the Spirits had ever granted me, then so be it.A male’s first duty was to his spirit mate, even when it cost him everything.

Vala led us through the freighter’s ruined spine, the portable light disc in his hand carving a narrow path through darkness that smelled of decay and something even older, the mustiness of a ship that had been dead long enough for its bones to settle.

The corridors grew tighter as we moved deeper, bulkheads buckling inward where the crash had compressed the hull, and twice we had to climb over fallen support beams that barred our path like the ribs of some enormous beast.

The corridor opened abruptly into a space that should not have existed. The crash had torn a massive hole in the freighter’s side, shearing through three decks and collapsing the bulkheads between them into a single cavernous void. And there, nestled against the far wall like something that had sought shelter from the violence of the impact, was a small craft.

"There's the Troken skiff," Vala said, a note of appreciation entering his voice. "Class-four salvage craft."

I approached the vessel slowly, circling it with the same caution I would an unfamiliar weapon. The craft floated several handsabove the ground silently without wheels or landing struts. Despite its alien design, it stirred a flicker of recognition.

"It hovers," I observed. "Like our rovers."

Vala smiled. "A similar concept. Different engineering."

Quin stepped beside me, her attention fixed on the sleek craft. “Your people have something like this?” Her anger had receded, replaced by a flicker of genuine interest.

“Yes,” I said. “Though not like this.” The words came easier than I expected. Talking about Valose always did. “Our rovers are smaller. Single-rider. Built for mobility through the Huren jungle—the forest where our domed city sits.” I gestured to the skiff’s disruptor array. “They operate on the same principles. Gravity disruptors create a repulsive field between the craft and the ground. The rider controls the field’s intensity to adjust altitude and stability.”

She crouched slightly, peering beneath the skiff. "Nothing's touching the surface."

"No," I said. "Ours don't either."

She rose and looked at me, a radiant smile illuminating her face with such effortless beauty that it stole the breath from my lungs. I had faced monsters, survived captivity, and crossed a world determined to kill me, yet nothing left me more unbalanced than the simple curve of my spirit mate's lips.

"Once we reach Valose," she said, "I want you to take me through the Huren jungle on one of your rovers. I want to see the wetlocks and patooga in their natural habitat.”

"Only if it can be done safely," I said, feeling my scales blanch. “The jungle is beautiful, but dangerous.”

“I can feel how protective you are.” A soft laugh escaped heras she pressed a hand lightly against the center of her chest, directly over her shawra. “You worry about me far more than you should.”

“It is my duty to keep you safe.”

“I’m flattered, but I've managed to survive eight weeks on this planet before you showed up.”

I took a step forward, closing the distance until only a breath separated us. Lifting a hand, I gently tipped her chin upward, needing her to see the truth in my eyes.