Nucleus 1: The Dust of Moon [Mature Sci-fi Romance]

Osram Time: 11:55, March 20, 2295

Somewhere in Mare Cognitum, Osram

The portal's cerulean light collapsed behind them like a dying star, depositing Jabari and his companions onto the gray lunar soil of Mare Cognitum. Above, the enemy's Dragonfort, Shūn-Huáng, loomed like a crimson storm cloud, its shadow stretching across the cratered landscape. Jabari's boots found purchase on the low-gravity terrain as he sprinted toward his Scarab mech, each bound carrying him meters through the thin but breathable air.

Pain still radiated from where he'd torn the Moondust shard free. The crystal fragment pulsed in his left hand, sending waves of alien consciousness through his nervous system. He could feel her—Dilinur—through the connection, her rage and desperation bleeding into his own thoughts.

Give it back. The feminine voice shrieked. Give Moondust back!

"Keep going!" Fuuka ordered as she matched his pace, her white-orange silk robes flowing behind her in the weak lunar breeze. "This shard means everything to us!"

Jabari's Scarab KM-233 crouched where they'd left it, its six legs folded beneath the bus-sized frame. The mech's dark green armor caught Osram's pale sunlight as he hauled himself up the access ladder. His muscles screamed in protest—the Crystal's backlash had torn something deep inside him, something that Fuuka's healing hadn't quite reached.

"Here we go!" He slid into the pilot's seat, placing the Moondust shard in the small containment box mounted beside the controls. The moment his hands touched the interface panels, the Scarab hummed to life. Status lights flickered green across the dashboard as the fusion core engaged.

Fuuka dropped into the seat beside him, her Spirit Lantern floating at shoulder height. The six-sided device pulsed with golden light, casting dancing shadows across the cockpit's interior. With practiced ease, she guided the lantern to hover near the viewport, its glow intensifying as she prepared defensive spells.

"Your prince Laurent says reinforcements are twenty minutes out," she reported, one hand pressed to her ear while the other directed the Spirit Lantern's movement. "We just need to—"

The cockpit shuddered as something struck the Scarab's hull. Through the viewport, Jabari saw them—Sky Shredders diving from above, their chitinous wings catching the light like shattered glass. Behind them, descending from the Dragonfort's belly, came the real threat: Bloodtroopers in crimson armor, their Thermal Battleaxes gleaming.

"Engaging the pests now!" Wilhelm's voice crackled over comms.

Jabari's heart lifted as the Anioma jet screamed overhead—a vision in emerald and gold that matched the image he'd seen in recruitment posters. Wilhelm's fighter banked hard, its twin plasma cannons lighting up the lunar sky. A Sky Shredder exploded in a burst of ichor and chitin, its death shriek audible even through the Scarab's hull.

"Clearing a path toward the southeast!" Ume's synthesized voice joined the channel.

Through his starboard viewport, Jabari caught sight of the android. She rode a Gyata hoverbike low to the ground, her steel-gray combat suit hugging her form as she weaved between rock formations. The skin-tight material flexed with her movements, small protective plates on her shoulders and wrists gleaming. Her Agbara X9—the plasma handgun Jabari had gifted her in Taipei—barked green death at the Bone Fiends trying to surround her.

The weapon's emerald bolts carved through skeletal forms with surgical precision. When three Fiends rushed her position, Ume held down the trigger, building charge. The Agbara X9's distinctive whine filled the air before she released, sending a charged plasma sphere into their midst. The explosion left nothing but scattered bones and scorched lunar dust.

Jabari gritted his teeth and pushed the Scarab forward. The mech's six legs found purchase on the uneven terrain, each step sending vibrations through the cockpit. The mech's Sun Moon Cannon emerged from its back, swiveled to track a pack of Skuggrs approaching from the west.

"Moon setting," he muttered, toggling the weapon to its freezing mode. The cannon discharged with a sound like breaking winter, sending a beam of absolute cold through the pack. The Skuggrs froze mid-leap, their elongated forms becoming ice sculptures that shattered when they hit the ground.

"Jabari, behind you!" Celine's voice cut through the chaos.

He spun the Scarab's torso just in time to see her in action. The Sumina caster stood atop a crater rim, her traditional African robes whipping in the low gravity. Golden light gathered around her hands as she chanted in Anansemka: "Kra Nhyira!"

Solar fire erupted from within a cluster of advancing Draugs, their decayed forms combusting from the inside out. The spell's inner fire consumed them so thoroughly that only shadows remained on the lunar surface. But more kept coming—so many more.

Thorin's golden Psytum blade carved through the melee below, each strike precise and economical. Sand Lotus Krypts flickered in and out of visibility around him, their silver knives finding gaps in Bloodtrooper armor. But for every enemy that fell, two more seemed to descend from the Dragonfort.

"Prince Laurent, status on our reinforcements?" Jabari called out as he fired the Plasma Spitter, green bolts stitching across a line of Amber-Eyes.

"Fifteen minutes." Laurent's calm voice belied the situation's urgency. "Our battalion is moving at maximum speed, but—"

"We're likely to be dead in five, sir!" Wilhelm interrupted, his Anioma jet pulling a tight barrel roll to avoid a stream of crossbow bolts. "These arseholes brought everything!"

As if to emphasize the point, Jabari's proximity alarms screamed. A full squad of Bloodtroopers had gotten close, their Thermal Battleaxes glowing cherry-red. He triggered the Scarab's melee protocol, bringing one of the mech's reinforced forelegs down in a crushing blow. The lead trooper disappeared beneath the strike, his armor crumpling like paper.

But there were too many. A Kraken—one of those horrific octopoid Radi-Mons—wrapped its arms around the Scarab's rear leg. Jabari felt the mech lurch as the creature's strength threatened to topple him.

"Hold steady!" Fuuka's Spirit Lantern blazed brighter, moving to hover directly in front of the viewport. She chanted rapidly in Devavāṇī. "Sūrya Tāpa!"

A golden barrier materialized just as a Bloodtrooper's thermal axe would have struck the cockpit glass. The weapon rebounded off her shield with a shower of sparks.

"Anyan Kaw-naw-mu!" Celine's voice rang out again. A beam of concentrated solar energy lanced down from above, severing the Kraken's grip. The creature's shriek of pain was cut short as Ume's Gyata roared past, her Plasma Handgun finishing what Celine had started.

"Thanks for the assist!" Jabari called out, but his relief was short-lived.

The enemy's assault intensified. Wilhelm's Anioma jet twisted and dove, its emerald hull scarred by near misses. On the ground, Thorin and his Krypts were being pushed back, overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Even Celine's powerful Solar magic couldn't stem the tide.

"Transmission?" Fuuka warned, her hand moving to the comm panel.

The holographic projector flickered to life, revealing two figures Jabari recognized from intelligence briefings. Prince Joon-Seok Pak stood rigid in his crimson military jacket, dark eyes cold as winter. Beside him, Dilinur looked worse for wear—blood still staining her upper lip, her silver eyes blazing with barely controlled fury.

"Jabari Adomako." Joon-Seok's voice carried the weight of absolute authority. "You will cease this pointless resistance and return the Moondust shard immediately."

"Or what?" Jabari found himself asking, even as another wave of pain lanced through his skull. Through the shard's connection, he felt Dilinur's presence like ice against his thoughts.

"Or we will reduce you and your conspirators to atoms," the prince continued. "You've stolen property of the Jiangshi Imperium. This act of theft, compounded by the Directorate's collaboration with known terrorists, constitutes an act of war."

Fuuka leaned into the projection's range, her pearl eyes dancing with defiance. "The Moondust Crystal belongs to no empire, Prince. It was never yours to claim."

Dilinur's image flickered as she stepped forward. "I cannot believe the Directorate would sink so low," she spat, each word dripping venom. "Conspiring with the Sand Lotus? With terrorists who've murdered innocents across the Sol System?"

"That's rich," Fuuka shot back, "coming from an empire built on conquest and slavery."

"Enough." Joon-Seok raised a hand. "You have ten seconds to comply before we unleash the full might of our forces. Choose wisely."

Jabari met Dilinur's gaze through the projection. Even across the battlefield, even through the hologram's blue shimmer, he felt that strange pull again. The shard pulsed in its container, and for a moment, her expression softened—confusion flickering across her features before hardening back into rage.

"Go to hell," Jabari said quietly.

The projection winked out.

"Well," Fuuka said with forced lightness, "that could have gone better."

The attack that followed made their previous engagement look like a sparring match. Fenris Radi-Mons surged forward in a coordinated wave—Bone Fiends, Skuggrs, Sky Shredders, all moving with the precision of a single mind. Behind them came the Imperium's human forces, Bloodtroopers and Amber-Eyes advancing in perfect formation.

"They're everywhere!" Wilhelm's voice cracked over comms. His Anioma jet's plasma cannons fired continuously, carving burning lines through the enemy ranks, but it wasn't enough.

Below, Jabari watched in horror as the Krypts were overwhelmed. One by one, the mysterious warriors fell, their cream-colored robes staining crimson. Celine's Ologuns fought with desperate courage, but they were down to less than a squad now.

"Requesting assistance!" Ume's panicked voice cut through the chaos. Her Gyata had been shot down, the hoverbike sparking and smoking in a crater. She held her Agbara X9 in a two-handed grip, green plasma bolts keeping three Bloodtroopers at bay. But a Kraken was closing in from behind, arms reaching for her.

"Ume!" Jabari pushed the Scarab toward her position, but he was too far away. He wouldn't make it in time. "Ekwensu!" he cursed.

Then the lunar surface erupted with fresh weapon fire. Amber-Eyes emerged from concealed positions, their crossbows singing in unison. Electrified bolts slammed into the Scarab's hull, overloading systems. Sparks flew from the control panels as Jabari fought to maintain control.

A figure in black descended from above—female, graceful despite the low gravity, her military boots finding purchase on a boulder with practiced ease. The Novian woman's black uniform was pristine, gold buttons catching Osram's pale light. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, with features that spoke of mixed heritage—Spanish angles softened by Southeast Asian curves. Predatory grace in her movements, the way she handled her weapon like an extension of her body.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"Marisol." He said in recognition, recalling their last conflict in Nusantara.

"You may have escaped Borneo alive." The woman's voice came over the comm as her left hand reached up to her ear. "But this moon is nothing like the tropical jungles back home."

She raised her Lever-Action Rifle, the handcrafted wooden stock gleaming with what looked like botanical oils. Jabari saw the telescopic sight deploying from its concealed housing.

The first shot cracked like thunder. Jabari felt the impact through the Scarab's frame, specialized ammunition punching through armor plating near the left knee joint. He pivoted the mech, bringing the Plasma Spitter to bear, but Marisol was already moving.

She bounded across the lunar surface in long, low-gravity leaps, each landing calculated to give her a new firing angle. Her second shot struck the Spitter's barrel, sending sparks cascading across the viewport. The weapon sputtered, its charge dissipating uselessly into space.

"Ekwensu, she's good…" Jabari muttered, trying to track her with the Sun Moon Cannon. But every time he lined up a shot, she'd already moved, using the terrain like a master. Another shot—this one to the cannon's swivel mechanism. The massive weapon groaned, its function compromised.

Marisol paused atop a crater rim, cycling her rifle's lever fluidly. For a moment, their eyes met through the Scarab's viewport. She smiled—not cruelly, but with professional satisfaction. Then she fired again.

This shot was different. The round exploded on impact, some kind of heat-generating cartridge that sent temperature warnings screaming across Jabari's displays. She was systematically dismantling his mech, each shot precisely placed to cripple rather than destroy.

"Need some help with that proper sniper there, mate?" Wilhelm's voice crackled over comms, that distinctive accent—British education overlaid with Afrikaans roots—cutting through the chaos.

"Yes!" Jabari wrestled with the controls, trying to compensate for the accumulating damage. In his peripheral vision, he saw Ume go down, a Bloodtrooper's axe-butt catching her in the side. She crumpled, the Agbara X9 spinning away across the gray dust.

He made the mistake of looking—just for a second, his attention torn between Marisol and Ume's fallen form. It was all the opening a professional needed.

Marisol's next shot found the Scarab's primary hydraulic line. Fluid sprayed across the lunar surface, freezing instantly in the near-vacuum. The mech's left legs locked up, sending it stumbling. Jabari fought for balance, but the Scarab was already tilting, its massive weight working against him.

"Oh, that's not on!" Wilhelm's Anioma jet screamed overhead, so low Jabari could see the scorch marks on its emerald hull. "Nobody puts my china in a corner!"

The jet's Plasma Cannons opened up, forcing Marisol to dive for cover. She rolled behind a boulder as green death stitched across the position she'd just vacated. But even pinned down, she managed to squeeze off one more shot—this one finding the Scarab's fusion core housing.

The warning klaxons filled the cockpit. The mech pitched forward, and Jabari felt the sickening sensation of falling in low gravity. The Scarab hit the lunar surface hard, throwing him against his restraints. Fuuka's Spirit Lantern spun wildly, its golden light flickering as she struggled to maintain control of it while being jostled.

Then Wilhelm's jet banked impossibly hard, its belly nearly scraping the surface. "Hang on, boet! Uncle Will's got you!"

The Anioma's plasma cannons fired in sustained bursts, creating a wall of superheated death between Marisol and the downed Scarab. She had to retreat, bounding back as the ground around her turned to glass.

"Get up, mister beetle!" Wilhelm called out, his jet pulling a victory roll. "Still got a war to win!"

Jabari managed to get the Scarab to its knees, systems protesting every movement. Two of its six legs were non-functional, weapons depleted or damaged, but he was alive. Thanks to Wilhelm.

But everything else was falling apart. Laurent's reinforcements were still minutes away—minutes they didn't have. Around them, the last of the Krypts fell. Celine's magic flickered as exhaustion took its toll. Even Thorin was being driven back, his golden blade barely keeping the tide at bay.

Beside him, Fuuka's hands clenched into fists. She stared at the Moondust shard in its container, her pearl eyes reflecting its cyan glow. "I have to use it," she said, reaching for the crystal fragment.

"No!" Jabari caught her wrist. "I saw what it did to Laurent. You felt what happened up there when I cut it free. That thing will…"

"Will what?"

"It'll ruin your mind!"

"If I don't use it, we all die." She tried to pull free, but he held firm. "Jabari, please—"

"Laurent warned me. He told me to never use it!" His grip tightened, not enough to hurt but enough to keep her from the shard.

"I don't believe it."

"Okay. He said YOU should only use it if necessary, and we're not there yet!"

"Not there yet?" Fuuka's voice rose, incredulous. "Look around! Ume's down, the Krypts are gone, we're being slaughtered!"

"We can still—"

"Still what?" Her free hand gestured wildly at the carnage outside. "Still die with honor?"

"We'll fight to the last, the old fashoined way!" He pushed.

"I'm not letting everyone die for pride!"

"And I'm not letting anyone kill themselves!" The words came out harsher than intended. Through the viewport, he saw another Ologun fall, trashed green metal drifting in the low gravity with shattered bones and flesh. But he couldn't look away from Fuuka's eyes. "Not you."

Something shifted in her expression—surprise, maybe, or recognition. "You fool..."

"We shared something." The admission tumbled out, raw and honest. "In that ritual room, in the trance. I know you're with Amir, I respect that, but I can't just watch you destroy yourself. Not when—"

"When what?" Her voice had gone soft, dangerous.

"When I care too damn much to let you go."

For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other, the battle fading to background noise. Her wrist was still in his grip, the Moondust shard pulsing between them like a third heartbeat.

Then her expression hardened. "That's exactly why I must do this." She twisted her wrist—was it some Sand Lotus technique he didn't anticipate?

And suddenly she was free, pushing him away, her hand closing around the shard. "Because I care too much to let you all die."

Her Spirit Lantern responded to her emotional surge, spinning faster around her head, its golden light pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.

"Fuuka, don't—"

But her fingers closed around the crystal fragment. The moment she touched it, Jabari felt the connection explode through his mind. Not just Dilinur now, but Fuuka too, their consciousness tangling with his in a three-way link that sent fire through his nerves.

"Akhaṇḍit chetanā, kālatīt rahasya!" The Devavāṇī incantation poured from Fuuka's lips, the same words Prince Laurent had used in the Sepulcher of Ysolde.

Her Spirit Lantern erupted with blinding radiance, no longer just golden but white-hot, as if channeling the fury of a star. It spun in wild orbits around her, leaving afterimages in the air.

The effect was immediate and terrifying.

Across the battlefield, Fenris Radi-Mons froze mid-attack. For a heartbeat, nothing moved—then Fuuka's eyes snapped open, no longer pearl-white but blazing with cyan fire that matched the shard's glow.

"I am the Dust of Moon!" she declared in a deeper voice, her voice carrying an otherworldly resonance that made Jabari's teeth ache. "Serve, and your minds may be spared from my appetite."

The nearest pack of Bone Fiends dropped as one, their skeletal forms prostrating before the Scarab. Then the effect rippled outward—Skuggrs wheeling mid-flight to face their former allies, Krakens releasing their holds on Directorate mechs to turn on the Bloodtroopers beside them.

"By the Thousand Gods..." Jabari breathed, watching as Fuuka's will swept across Mare Cognitum like a tide.

Her Spirit Lantern pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat, each flash extending her control further. A squad of Amber-Eyes tried to resist, their disciplined minds fighting back, but Fuuka's lips curved in a smile that wasn't entirely her own.

"Yogyatā," she whispered in Devavāṇī. "Prove your worthiness."

The Amber-Eyes' crossbows turned on their wielders.

"Bloody miracles! Whatever you're doing, keep—" Wilhelm's whoop cut through the comms.

But Jabari saw what Wilhelm couldn't. Veins stood out on Fuuka's temples, pulsing with unnatural light. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the lunar cold, and her hands—trembling around the shard, knuckles white as bone.

"Fuuka?" He reached toward her, but she didn't respond. Her attention was turned entirely outward, puppeting dozens—no, nearly a hundred—of Radi-Mons and humans simultaneously.

The Spirit Lantern's orbit grew erratic, its golden light shot through with veins of blue. She was pushing too hard, channeling too much. The shard wasn't meant for human minds, and she was forcing enough power through her consciousness to—

"More," Fuuka gasped, and Jabari realized with horror that she wasn't speaking to him. She was speaking to the Crystal. "Give me more!"

The Moondust shard flared like a newborn star. Every Radi-Mon within a kilometer radius suddenly moved with synchronization, turning the Imperium's own monsters against them with surgical precision. For one glorious moment, it looked like they might actually win this.

Then Fuuka screamed.

It was a sound Jabari would never forget—raw agony given a heart-wrenching soprano pitch. Blood erupted from her mouth, painting the cockpit's interior. Her Spirit Lantern's light guttered like a dying flame, dropping from the air to clatter against the deck, its golden glow fading to a weak flicker.

Her body convulsed, hands locked around the shard in a death grip. Through their shared connection, Jabari felt her mind fragmenting, torn apart by forces no human consciousness was meant to channel.

"Fuuka!" He reached for her, but she was already falling, sliding from her seat to crumple across his lap. The blue shard tumbled from nerveless fingers, its glow flickering.

Around them, the controlled Radi-Mons wavered, their rebellion faltering. Some continued attacking the Imperium forces, but others turned on each other or simply stood frozen, caught between competing commands.

"No, no, no..." Jabari cradled Fuuka's head, her blood hot against his hands. Her pearl eyes stared at nothing, consciousness fled. But there—a flutter against his thigh. Her heartbeat, weak but present.

She was alive. Barely.

The battle turned again. Without Fuuka's will, the Radi-Mons reverted to Imperium control. Ologuns and Krypts fell beneath renewed assault.

"Form up around the Scarab!" Thorin's voice rang out, calling across the voice comm. The Valoran monk had seized the opportunity to retrieve Ume from the Bloodtroopers that almost succeeded in eliminating her. He held the injured android to his left, his right hand holding the Psytum Sword brimming with determination.

"Wilhelm! Rally with my troops!" Laurent called over the comm.

"Sir?" Wilhelm's response was hesitant at best.

"Need you to lead us to where Jabari is!" Laurent replied.

"At once!" Wilhelm's Anioma jet flew away.

Celine stood beside Jabari's Scarab, her hands glowing with golden energies. "Ologuns! To me!"

The remaining Directorate marines—little more than a squad—rallied around the Sumina, Plasma Rifles pointing outwards, forming a protective circle.

But they had nowhere left to go.

The Moondust shard lay there, cyan light pulsing like a accusation. Through it, Jabari felt the other side.

A presence—was it this Dilinur woman's? Her triumph, her pain, her desperate need to reclaim what had been taken.

Do it, a voice whispered. Not Dilinur's, not Fuuka's. His own. Take control.

Jabari's hand closed around the shard.

The crystal's consciousness invaded his mind like a tsunami of broken glass. He felt Dilinur's shock through the connection, felt her recognition as his will pressed against hers. The fragment recognized him—knew him from when he'd torn it from the main body. It sang to his mind, awakening the psionic core Fuuka had helped him discover.

"Akhaṇḍit chetanā, kālatīt rahasya!" The words that tore from his throat barely felt like his own, each syllable carving channels through his brain. The Moondust shard flared to life, its blue glow filling the cockpit. Through the viewport, he saw the effect—a smaller pack of Radi-Mons turning against their fellows, but not as many as Fuuka had controlled. His will wasn't as strong, his connection to the Crystal fragment more tenuous.

But it was enough. Bone Fiends clashed with Bone Fiends. Sky Shredders turned on each other in aerial battles that painted the lunar sky with ichor. The Imperium's coordinated assault fractured as their Radi-Mon support became unreliable.

"Now's the time! Push forward!" Thorin's voice carried new hope. His golden blade carved through confused enemies as the Directorate forces seized the opportunity.

"Laurent here. Reinforcements in seven minutes. Seven minutes!"

Blood ran from Jabari's nose, hot and metallic. The shard burned in his grip, its alien consciousness trying to subsume his own. He could feel himself fragmenting, following the same path Fuuka had just taken. But he held on, driven by desperation and the weight of her unconscious form across his lap.

Through the chaos, through the pain, one thought remained clear:

They had to survive this.

The reinforcements were coming. Laurent had promised. They just had to hold on a little longer.

Even if it would kill him.