Captured by the Yandere Space Pirates

The bridge of Syn's ship thrummed with a quiet intensity, the holo-map casting a faint blue glow across his face as he stood along with Pako.

His hazel eyes flicked to her, his voice low and steady as he laid out the plan. "The Kingdom's destroyer and five fighters are approc four hours out—closing fast.

They've got us pinned unless we flip this.

You're leading six fighter ships—circle wide around the destroyer, stay off their radar, and wait for my signal to hit their flank. They won't expect an attack that fast from the side, we hit them when they are about to retreat."

Pako tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing as she absorbed his words, a grin tugging at her lips. "Sneaky—I like it. What else?"

Syn tapped the map, a recon ship's blip pulsing faintly. "I'm sending a pilot to find Aster—update her on the situation, give her new coordinates to regroup at."

He traced a line across the glowing grid, his finger stopping at a distant point. "Here—safe from the Kingdom's sweep." He straightened, his gaze locking with hers, a flicker of urgency sharpening his tone. "We've got one shot—mess this up, and Aster's toast if not along with us. You ready?"

"Born ready," Pako said, her grin widening as she stepped closer, her tan hands brushing his chest before she pulled him into a quick, fierce kiss.

Her lips were warm, insistent, a spark of her wild energy igniting the air between them. She broke away, her dark eyes glinting with thrill, and spun toward the hangar. Syn followed her.

"I am going to mess you up after I return," she stated over her shoulder, climbing into her fighter ship—a sleek, black dart of a vessel—her six-ship squadron already humming to life behind her.

The hangar doors hissed open, and with a roar of thrusters, Pako's fleet launched, streaking into the void like shadows on the hunt.

Syn returned to the cockpit, his boots ringing against the steel as he took the bridge, the crew's eyes tracking him—less doubt now, more focus, their trust a fragile thread he'd weave into steel.

"Recon One—go find Aster, new coords uploaded," he said, his voice crisp as he nodded to a wiry pilot at the comms.

The man nodded, his screen flashing as the recon ship peeled away, a faint blip vanishing into the dark. Syn's gaze shifted to the holo-map, the Kingdom's red arcs looming closer, and he waited...

After around two hours, Pako's voice crackled through the comms, sharp and alive. "Closing on the destroyer—circling wide, they haven't clocked us." Syn's lips twitched, a faint smile breaking through his focus as he pictured her out there, her fighters trailing the Kingdom's ships like wolves stalking prey.

"Good—hold position," he replied, his hand hovering over the controls as he turned to the recon pilot on his other screen. "Fire a missile—low yield. Shift your position immediately. Keep 'em guessing."

The pilot nodded, and moments later, the recon ship loosed a salvo—small, darting missiles streaking toward the destroyer's flank.

Syn watched the map, his breath held as the Kingdom's fighters surged forward, abandoning their mothership to fall into his trap, just as he'd hoped.

The destroyer was left alone, pivoting, and Pako's voice cut in again. "They're alone—fighters are off. We're in place."

Syn's ship roared on, its engines a deep growl as it closed the gap, turrets and missile bays primed, ready to launch.

The Kingdom's five fighters blinked into radar range, sleek silhouettes against the void, and Syn's voice rose, calm but lethal.

"Fire—heat-seekers, full barrage." The crew obeyed, the deck shuddering as missiles launched in a blazing swarm, their trails a fiery lattice streaking toward the enemy.

One by one, the fighters crumbled—explosions flaring bright, metal twisting into debris, their pilots' screams silenced before they could counter.

The cockpit stirred, a murmur of awe rippling through the crew as the red blips winked out.

"Now," Syn said into the comms, his voice a quiet command, and Pako's response was immediate—a barrage erupting from her fighters...

---

The cockpit erupted in cheers, the massive screen dominating the bridge flaring with live feed—Pako's fighters tearing into the destroyer, its hull breaching in fiery plumes, debris spinning into the void.

The crew's shouts bounced off the steel walls, a raw, jubilant roar that swelled into a chant: "Captain Syn! Captain Syn!" Their eyes locked on him, wide with a mix of joy and acceptance, their navy uniforms taut with sweat and pride as they hailed him in unison.

Syn's chest tightened, a nostalgic ache blooming as the sound washed over him—echoes of a life he'd left behind, of cheers he'd earned in battles long past.

His hazel eyes glistened, a tear threatening to spill as a shy smile curved his lips, his flush from the fight softening into something warmer.

He ducked his head, the weight of their trust settling like a mantle he hadn't worn in years, his hands gripping the bridge railing to steady himself.

David stepped forward, and clapped a firm hand on Syn's shoulder. His voice was low, cutting through the lingering buzz of victory chatter and system diagnostics humming across the bridge.

"You did good, Captain," he said. "Way above anyone's expectations. You're a true pirate—no matter what you've been these past few years."

The words landed heavier than the chaos of battle had.

Not shouted. Not grandiose.

Just quiet, solid truth. The kind that resonated deeper than a victory roar.

Syn's shoulders loosened, the tension unwinding in slow, subtle ways. His grin held, small but honest, and he met David's gaze with a flicker of warmth in his eyes—a silent thank you behind the glint of adrenaline still pulsing through his veins.

Around them, the ship was settling. The engines cooled with a low, satisfied whine, the steady thrum of motion dipping into a more relaxed hum.

The immediate threat had passed. Space outside, for once, didn't feel like it was snarling with teeth.

Syn exhaled.

The grin stayed as he turned back to the map on the holo table, fingers hovering for a beat before tapping in a new set of coordinates.

They couldn't linger here. Not with the Kingdom's ships destroyed.

The Kingdom would already know.

The Destroyer must have send a SOS request.

Backup was coming, no doubt in force.

He keyed the comms. "Take us to the new coordinates I just sent," he said. "Hold position there—quiet and dark. We wait for Aster."

No more words. The crew, still high on the edge of triumph, didn't question it. They trusted him now. Respected him. It felt strange.

Heavy. Good.

With the nav locked in and the stars shifting outside as the engines roared loud again, Syn finally allowed himself the urge that had been tugging at him since the end of the fight.

Vera.

He slipped off the bridge without fanfare, moving through the narrow corridors towards the medic room.

When he stepped inside, the hum of medical monitors greeted him. It smelled of sterilized gauze and faint antiseptic. The light was soft.

The doctor allowed him to enter inside.

There, lying on the cot near the wall, was Vera.

Wrapped in bandages—white cotton slightly stained red at her side—she looked smaller somehow. Fragile. But her eyes were open. And when they met his,

they smiled.