NOVEL NEXT Chapter 53
Syn's screams still echoed faintly in the evacuation bay, a raw, jagged sound that lingered in the steel walls like a ghost of their fury. His ankles throbbed, twin pulses of agony radiating from the clean fractures Vera had inflicted, his breath wheezing through clenched teeth as he lay sprawled on the cold floor. The painkiller didn't seem to have started it's work yet.
Aster's weight lifted from his back, her broad frame easing off him with a slow, deliberate shift, her teal eyes clouded with a mix of resolve and regret as she flexed her hands, the blanket scraps fluttering around her boots. Pako still clung tightly to his head, consoling, her arms wrapped tight around him, her naked chest pressed against his face as she murmured soft, broken apologies, her dark hair tickling his sweat-damp skin. Vera crouched beside him, her purple eyes narrowed as she probed his ankles with careful fingers, her touch firm but clinical, assessing the damage she'd wrought.
"Clean breaks," Vera muttered, her voice low, almost to herself as she traced the swelling flesh, her brow furrowing with a flicker of relief. "Six to eight weeks—they'll heal fine." Her hands lingered a moment longer, steady despite the faint tremble still rippling through her from the taser's aftershocks, then pulled back as she straightened, her purple hair clinging to her damp forehead.
Syn made a loud guttural sound and shoved Pako away with anger and pain, his palms pressing against her shoulders with a weak, wheezing grunt, his hazel eyes flashing with pain and defiance. "Get—off," he rasped, his voice hoarse as he tried to rise, his arms trembling as he pushed against the floor. His ankles betrayed him, limp and useless, and he winced and collapsed back with a stifled groan, his body tilting toward the cold floor—only to be caught by Aster's strong arms. She slid beneath him, her grip gentle but unyielding as she lifted him, cradling his lean frame against her chest like a fallen soldier, her blonde hair brushing his cheek.
"I'm sorry it had to happen this way," Aster said, her voice a quiet rumble, thick with a guilt she couldn't shake as she adjusted her hold, her teal eyes avoiding his. She turned, carrying him toward the corridor that led to Vera's bedroom, her boots thudding a steady rhythm against the floor.
Pako scrambled to her feet, snatching the larger piece of the torn blanket and wrapping it around her curves, tucking it hastily under her arms as she shuffled after them, her bare feet slapping the steel. Vera followed, her steps slow and deliberate, her purple gaze fixed on Syn's slumped form, the fire of her anger snuffed out by the weight of his screams.
The trio's rage had crumbled the moment those cries tore from his throat, replaced by a heavy, sinking ache that pressed against their ribs. They moved through the ship's halls in silence, their shadows stretching long and jagged under the flickering lights, a procession marked by the faint creak of Aster's gear and the rustle of Pako's blanket.
The crew watched from the sidelines, their eyes darting between the captains and the broken man in Aster's arms, confusion etched into their weathered faces. Whispers rustled among them, a low hum of curiosity and fear, but none dared ask—not when Vera's jaw was set like stone, not when Aster's shoulders bore the weight of a choice she couldn't unmake, not when Pako trailed behind, her usual swagger dimmed by the blanket's drape. They turned away, resuming their tasks—polishing gear, checking scanners—pretending not to see, trusting their leaders to untangle whatever mess Syn, the Kingdom soldier turned pirate enigma, had brought into their fold.
Vera's bedroom loomed ahead, its door sliding open with a soft hiss as Aster carried Syn inside, laying him gently on the wide bed, its soft sheets crumpling beneath his weight. Pako hovered near the threshold, her blanket slipping slightly to reveal a tan-lined shoulder, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of worry and defiance as she watched Vera ease onto the bed's edge, her hands hovering over Syn's legs.
The room was sparse but warm, a captain's retreat lined with maps pinned to the walls, a single holo-lamp casting a golden glow over the steel, a stark contrast to the chaos they'd left behind. Syn groaned, his head sinking into the pillow, his breath shallow as the pain ebbed into a dull, persistent ache, his hazel eyes half-lidded but sharp with a lingering fight.
Their anger had subsided, but their hearts were heavy, each beat a quiet echo of doubt—was this a mistake?
Vera's fingers twitched, itching to undo the damage she'd dealt, her mind replaying the snap of his bones, the way his screams had cut through her resolve like a blade. Aster stood by the bed, her arms crossed, her teal gaze fixed on the floor as if it held answers she couldn't find in Syn's pained expression.
Pako shifted her weight, the blanket rustling as she bit her lip, her usual bravado softened by the memory of his cries muffled against her chest. They'd wanted to keep him, to stop him from running into the Kingdom's jaws, but the cost gnawed at them, a bitter taste they couldn't spit out.
The crew's eyes had followed them through the halls, a silent jury of pirates who'd carved a life from the King's shadow. They were a ragtag band, their ship a small fortress compared to the hulking Kindom, orbiting the edge of rebellion, their numbers dwarfed by the Kingdom's might.
Yet they thrived, a thorn in the King's side, and it was all thanks to Vera—strategist supreme, her mind a steel trap that had outwitted royal fleets and kept them alive through years of hunted days. Her purple eyes missed nothing, her plans weaving through chaos like threads in a tapestry, turning scraps of intel into victories that made the King flinch, however slightly. She was their anchor, their blade, and they'd follow her into the void itself.
Aster was her shadow, the co-captain who led with iron and heart. She stormed into battles, her voice a thunderclap over the din of laser fire, her broad frame a shield for her crew. Risky missions were her domain—sabotaging supply lines, raiding outposts—and she brought them home with a mortality rate so low it defied the odds. Strict, loud, commanding, she never left a soul behind, her loyalty a bedrock that silenced the whispers when they'd learned she was fifth in line to the King's throne. Her skills—unmatched marksmanship, a knack for turning traps against their makers—had won their trust, her princess past buried beneath the scars she'd earned for them.
Then there was Pako, trailing Vera with her blanket clutched tight, her nakedness a stark silhouette against the hall's dim light. The crew knew her heat—her tanlines tracing curves that drew hungry stares from men and women alike, her slutty clothes and public porn-watching a brazen flag of defiance. She was no captain in the traditional sense, a co-captain to the co-captain at best, shirking strategy for odd jobs and solo gigs. Yet when tasked, she shone—recon missions executed with a thief's grace, hand-to-hand combat that left jaws dropped and bets unpaid. She'd sparred Aster in their minds for years, a wager unresolved, her wiry strength a mystery that fueled tavern tales. Quirky, crude, and fiercely capable, she was their wildcard, a spark they couldn't help but admire.
They were pirates, not destroyers—their goal was the King's fall, not the Kingdom's ruin. They'd chosen this life over the dead-eyed servitude of the masses, a chance to strike back at his inhumanity, to carve freedom from the stars.
Vera, Aster, and Pako were their luck, their leaders through the dark, and the crew swelled with pride at the rebellion they'd built. But Syn's arrival—a soldier from the Kingdom, now broken in their hands—cast a new shadow. His screams had shaken them, his motives a cipher they couldn't crack. Was he a liability, a fracture in their fragile unity, or an advantage, a key to the King's downfall they hadn't yet turned?
Aster adjusted Syn on the bed, her hands lingering as she tucked a pillow beneath his head, her voice a soft murmur. "Rest—we'll fix this." Vera nodded, her purple eyes tracing his swollen ankles, her mind already spinning toward med-bays and splints. Pako sank onto a chair, her blanket pooling around her, her dark gaze fixed on Syn with a quiet intensity, a promise of amends unspoken. The room settled into a tense hush, the ship's hum a steady pulse beneath their feet, the crew's whispers fading into the walls.
They'd bound him here, broken him to keep him, but the weight of it pressed against them—a choice they took in a moment of heat. Syn's breath steadied, his eyes fluttering shut, pain and exhaustion pulling him under. The painkiller kicking in.
Aster, Vera and Pako, slowly made their way onto the bed, getting closer to him. Careful not to wake him up. As they closed in, looking at his sleeping face, oddly, their hearts beat really fast. Why?