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

14:10, March 20, 2295

Bridge, DSS Isazi, Earth Orbit (9,487 kilometers above Yosemite)

The massive form pursuing them defied classification—part creature, part cosmic phenomenon, wreathed in perpetual storms of ice and starlight. Through the bridge's reinforced viewports, crystalline formations materialized and shattered in cycles around its bell-shaped silhouette like glittering mist. The thing moved with fluid grace despite its enormous size, matching the Isazi's descent trajectory.

"I'll board my Scarab," Jabari said, already turning toward the exit. "Clear us a landing zone before that thing reaches—"

"Actually..." Ume's voice carried an unusual tremor. She rotated from the pilot's console, amber eyes meeting his gaze. "KM-233 isn't operational. The lunar engagement caused more damage than my initial diagnostics indicated."

The bridge fell silent except for the hum of instruments and the distant wail of alarms.

"Still in pieces?" Jabari asked, unable to keep the dismay from his voice.

"Not pieces. But the primary actuators are offline, the plasma systems need recalibration, and the fusion core requires—" She stopped herself, shoulders tensing. "I apologize. I prioritized other things."

Wilhelm clapped Jabari on the shoulder. "No worries, boet. My KM-227's ready for a proper scrap. Haven't had a decent dust-up on a Scarab for awhile."

"Wilhelm—when's the last time you piloted?"

"Few months back, but it's like riding a bike, innit?" The Valoran was already heading for the hangar. "Just keep those ground-pounders off my six, hey?"

Laurent's fingers drummed against the command console as he watched their pursuer through the viewport. "Ume, maintain descent vector. Keep her steady whatever happens."

"Understood." She returned to the controls with her usual android precision. Jabari caught the slight tremor in her hands before they vanished.

"Should we use the shard?" Jabari gestured toward the secured container at Thorin's belt, where their hard-won Moondust fragment pulsed with blue luminescence through its containment field. "If that UFO is as powerful as it looks—"

"NO!"

The simultaneous rejection from Laurent, Thorin, and Celine made Jabari step back. Laurent cleared his throat, adjusting his collar with deliberate calm.

"We won't risk anyone else ending up like Fuuka," the Prince said quietly. "Until fully assembled, the Crystal is too unpredictable. Conventional weapons only."

Before anyone could respond, their pursuer spoke.

The voice that filled the bridge wasn't the monstrous roar they'd braced for. Instead, it rang out clear and enthusiastic, with an undertone of excitement that seemed wildly out of place.

"Directorate vessel!" The feminine voice had a quality like someone presenting at a conference for the first time, eager and youthful. "I'm Astrid of the Jokull Horde. You have something Primarch Skarn needs—a Moondust shard. Hand it over and nobody gets hurt, okay? You've got...three minutes to decide. Starting now!"

Jabari turned to Celine who only shared his confused expression.

Laurent leaned forward, activating external communications. "This is Prince Laurent N'Guessan of the Emerald Directorate. We reject your terms. Withdraw now, or face the consequences."

A laugh bubbled through the speakers—not the dramatic villain's laugh they might have expected, but something giggly, like someone had told a particularly good joke.

"Consequences? Oh, that's—that's actually pretty formal! Very princely." There was a pause, then her voice returned with forced seriousness. "But seriously, I've been tracking that shard's resonance. Do you know how hard it is to get good readings through Earth's magnetosphere? Two minutes, forty seconds. Please don't make this difficult, I really don't want to damage your nice ship."

"This Radi-Mon…" Laurent muttered, cutting the channel. "Is she serious?"

"She sounds young," Ume observed from her station.

"Young and dangerous," Thorin corrected, his weathered face grim. "The Jokull Horde doesn't send amateurs."

14:15, March 20, 2295

Armory, DSS Isazi, Descending through Earth's Atmosphere

Jabari's hands moved with efficiency, securing his combat armor's magnetic locks. The weight of the Vibro-Spear across his back felt reassuring, its collapsed form ready to extend at a moment's notice. His golden Plasma Rifle hummed to life as he verified its power cells, the weapon's thick bulk a comfort in his grip.

Around him, nine Ologun marines performed similar preparations. Their emerald armor caught the armory's lights as they loaded rifles and checked equipment. These were Outpost Tumi survivors—men and women who'd stood against Dakai's assault and lived to tell about it.

"This is, uh, Cadet Ume from Isazi control. Two minutes until atmospheric entry," Ume's voice echoed through the ship's speakers. "Detecting multiple ground signatures at landing zone. Classification: Unknown, but consistent with Radi-Mon behavioral patterns."

An Ologun private—identifiable by the rank insignia etched into her shoulder plate—looked up from checking her rifle's scope. "Lieutenant, any idea what we're walking into down there?"

"Something new," Jabari admitted, sliding a fresh power cell into his weapon. "But we are the Directorate Space Corps. And we have handled new before."

The private's grin was all teeth. "That we have, sir. That we bloody well have."

Thorin entered the armory, the Moondust shard secured in a reinforced containment box at his hip. The Sand Lotus Elder's presence immediately changed the room's energy.

"Stay close when we deploy," Thorin instructed, his weathered face grim. "Unlike the Fenris Horde's overwhelming numbers, the Jokull favors tactics. They'll try to separate us, pick off stragglers." His green eyes swept over the assembled warriors. "Do not let them."

The ship shuddered as they hit atmospheric turbulence. Through the armory's small viewport, Jabari caught glimpses of Yosemite's transformed landscape rushing up to meet them—a winter wonderland that usually would not exist in March, ice formations spiraling in geometric patterns.

He wanted to reach out. To someone important. Just to remind himself—and her—what they're fighting for.

Pressing into his earpiece, Jabari spoke into a private channel, directly to the Isazi Control. "Ume. It's me."

"Lieutenant Jabari," Ume's response was instant, though the use of title and the formality in her soprano voice masked her emotions.

"We never got to do that…connection protocol thing." He said, a tad awkwardly, recalling their time at Outpost Tumi. To the time when they'd washed dishes together.

"You mean the tactical debrief, but for understanding each other rather than missions." She replied, the hum of the Isazi's engine in the background.

"Yeah. That." He swallowed nervously. Why did this conversation suddenly feel so difficult to do? "I was wondering if it'd be possible to do it after this mission."

"Yes." Ume's reply was terse. Just as Jabari's heart pounded, another came, formal as it may have sounded. "I look forward to it."

"Okay. Good." Jabari nodded in relief. "May the Thousand Gods watch over us."

"May it be so. Stay safe, Jabari." Ume's voice carried a lilt. The channel was cut, but for Jabari, the affirmation was enough.

"'Connection protocol'?" Thorin's green eyes narrowed on Jabari. "Is this a new Directorate custom I'm not aware of?"

Jabari looked at the Nordling monk, feeling heat rising to his cheeks. The Ologuns were looking at him, too. Anansi's arse, he cursed inside.

"Uh—" He began, finding his fellow soldiers looking at him with suspicion. "It's a senior officer thing."

"Really?" An Ologun inquired. "So 'Lieutenant' is considered a senior rank?"

"Well, it is in the Kimaris." Jabari held up his gauntleted hands, tasting the hilarious lack of believability in that statement.

"Of course, sir. You know best." The Ologun relented with a knowing grin.

"Remember," Thorin continued, checking the silver hilt of his Psytum Sword, "The Jokull were made by Harald Omdal, a psion who's studied more Radi-Mons than most of us have seen. The creatures are born from Earth species but transformed by his genius. And this Astrid..." He paused, frowning. "I knew her, once. At Lund University. Brilliant student. Harald's star pupil before she changed."

"You knew her?" Jabari asked, surprised.

"Briefly. She was working on her doctorate in xenobiology when I visited as a guest lecturer." Thorin's expression darkened. "That was before she drank the virus. Before she became...what she is now."

14:25, March 20, 2295

Tuolumne Meadows, Yosemite National Park, Contested Territory

The Isazi's landing thrusters scorched circular patterns into the frozen meadow as Wilhelm's Scarab descended from the ship's belly on thruster-assisted cables.

KM-227 was noticeably smaller than Jabari's machine—more compact, with weathered green armor plating that showed years of service. Its most distinctive feature was the single glowing eye mounted in its head unit, a crystalline sensor that blazed like a white diamond as it swept the treeline.

"System checked up, good to go!" Wilhelm's voice crackled through comms, his accent thickening with adrenaline. "Movement all along the perimeter. Bugger me, they're fast!"

The mech's feet struck permafrost with ground-shaking force, its older hydraulics groaning slightly under the impact. While different from Jabari's more modern design, KM-227's primary weapons were the same: twin Plasma Spitters that swiveled independently under its face, already tracking targets in the forest.

Jabari hit the ground running, his boots finding purchase on ice-slicked granite. The meadow stretched before them where unnatural winter had overtaken early spring growth.

The first wave struck before they'd barely gone a few dozen meters.

Creatures the size of hoverbikes erupted from snow-camouflaged positions, their shells gleaming with an iridescent deep ocean tone. They moved forward rather than sideways like normal crabs, massive claws clicking as they advanced in formation.

"Krabba!" Thorin's shout cut through the chaos, the golden energy blade of his Psytum Sword igniting with Solar radiance. "Watch for stance shifts—they're most vulnerable during transitions!"

"Opening fire!" Jabari's Plasma Rifle came to life, the Helionite-charged rounds sparking off the leading creature's hardened carapace. The Krabba's posture suddenly shifted. It closed the distance with frightening speed, massive claws snapping where his head had been a heartbeat before.

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He rolled left, came up firing before raising his off-hand, feeling Solar energy flow through his veins.

"Anyan Kaw-naw-mu!" The Solar psionic bolt that erupted from his left palm blazed like a miniature sun, finding gaps in the creature's armor and sending it stumbling back with a sound like crystalline bells shattering.

"Wilhelm, we need that heavy support!" Jabari called out, ducking under another Krabba's scissoring claws.

"On it, champ!" The vintage Scarab stepped forward, its diamond eye blazing as targeting systems locked on. "You beauties picked the wrong day!"

KM-227's Plasma Spitters roared with a different tone than modern weapons—deeper, more resonant, like controlled thunder. Green fire swept across three Krabba simultaneously, forcing them into defensive stances.

But more Radi-Mons were emerging from the frozen ground: massive forms like pythons bred from nightmares, their scales pale blue-gold like deep ice mixed with sand.

"Fenormr," Thorin identified, his blade carving through a Krabba that had tried to flank him. "Range fighters. Don't let them establish firing positions!"

"Sir, those serpents are after the mech!" An Ologun's warning came, his exosuit whirring.

Corrosive bile splattered across KM-227's armor plating, the acid eating through the outer layer. Wilhelm's mech staggered but held firm, its older shell proving more resilient than expected.

"That all you got?" Wilhelm's laughter crackled through comms. "This old girl's survived worse!"

The Fenormr pressed their attack, two of them coordinating to flank the Scarab. But Wilhelm pivoted his mech with surprising grace, Plasma Spitters tracking independently to catch one Fenormr in crossfire while the mech's foot crushed the second under tons of reinforced steel.

"Ologuns, get behind the mech!" Jabari shouted to the Ologuns. "Use it as mobile cover!"

The soldiers adapted quickly, using KM-227's bulk as a moving fortress. When Wilhelm advanced, they moved with him, their Plasma Rifles adding supporting fire to the mech's heavier weapons. When the Krabba tried to overwhelm their position, the Ologuns could fall back behind the Scarab's protection.

"Sir, multiple Fenormr behind the trees!" An Ologun private reported, her rifle chattering as she laid down suppressing fire.

"Wilhelm, can you break that position?" Jabari called out.

"Bloody pleasure. Been wanting to use the big gun." Wilhelm's voice carried anticipation. "Clear lane!"

The Ologuns scattered as KM-227's back cavity began to iris open, revealing the distinctive Sun Moon Cannon. Energy buildup created a distinctive harmonic whine that made the air itself vibrate.

"Moon setting!" Wilhelm announced.

The freezing beam that erupted from the cannon was like winter given form—a concentrated stream of absolute cold that turned the moisture in the air into instant ice crystals. It struck the Fenormr firing line dead center, and the effect was immediate and devastating.

The serpentine creatures' movements slowed, then stopped entirely as their bodies became encased in crystalline ice. Two Fenormr were flash-frozen solid, their forms becoming ice sculptures that toppled backward onto the frozen meadow.

"Beautiful!" An Ologun cheered. "Do it again!"

But before Wilhelm could respond, frost of a different kind spread across every surface like a living thing, and high above, something began its descent from the storm-wreathed sky.

The creature that descended from the storm clouds made Jabari's breath catch. Where he'd braced for some massive ice demon or salivating Radi-Mon horror, instead came something that belonged in the deepest ocean trenches—a jellyfish of impossible beauty, its translucent bell pulsing with bioluminescent patterns that shifted from pale blue to deep sapphire.

But this was no ordinary jellyfish. The bell stretched nearly three meters across, its surface shot through with veins of crystalline ice that caught and refracted the pale sunlight into rainbow prisms. What should have been simple tentacles were instead dozens of complex oral arms that moved with deliberate intelligence, each one glistening with that perpetual moisture.

"Amir! You've seen this type of Radi-Mon before." Thorin pressed his off-hand to his earpiece, speaking to the voice comm.

"Ísmarr," Amir's calm tone sounded over the channel. "The Jokull equivalent to a Draug. She's coordinating this pack."

"That's a…Radi-Mon." Jabari said, watching as the creature touched down about twenty meters from his position. The frost around its landing site spread outward in perfect geometric patterns. The air itself seemed to crystallize in its presence, tiny ice fragments dancing in spirals that hurt to watch directly.

Around them, the Krabba and Fenormr surged, their frenzy growing, evidently bolstered by their Ísmarr's presence, shrieks and clicks audible in the air as they moved to encircle the Ologuns.

"Stand strong. Fight as one." Thorin stood firmly next to the marines, the aureate blade of his Psytum Sword unrelenting. He turned to Jabari briefly. "We'll handle the minions. But the Ísmarr—"

"I'll handle it!" Jabari raised his rifle, squeezing off a controlled burst.

"Good." The Sand Lotus monk said before delivering an lethal cleave on a Fenormr that slithered too close.

The plasma bolts from Jabari's gun should have torn through the seemingly delicate Radi-Mon before him. Instead, they struck an invisible barrier inches from the jellyfish's bell, dissipating into harmless aurora-like displays that painted the air.

"Oh, that tickles!" The voice that emanated from the creature's entire form was nothing like the menacing being he'd expected. Instead, it sounded young, curious, even a bit excited. "Are those 7th-gen plasma rounds? Fascinating dispersal pattern!"

"Wait, what!?" Jabari was certain he had never met this creature—or person—in his life. But something about her told him…that this was only the beginning of their acquaintance.

Her transformation began without warning. The translucent bell contracted upward, oral arms weaving together in configurations that seemed to defy physics. The shift was mesmerizing—not the dramatic morphing of a monster, but something dance-like and fluid.

Where moments before had floated an alien creature, now stood something that made Jabari's mind stutter to a halt.

From the waist up, she was stunning—but not in the classical way. Her face was snow-white perfection, with cheekbones that could have been carved by master sculptors, lips the pale pink of dawn frost, and her skin—that perpetually dewy quality of someone who'd just emerged from a swimming pool, so pale it was nearly translucent, with a faint sheen. Her cheeks held a natural flush, like she'd been running or was embarrassed. Waves of midnight-black hair cascaded over her shoulders, each strand gleaming with moisture that never quite dripped away.

Her eyes were the pale blue of glacier ice, but they held none of the cold distance he'd expected. Instead, they sparkled with curiosity, darting between him and his weapon like a researcher examining an interesting specimen.

A luxurious fur cloak draped her shoulders and upper torso, but even it couldn't hide the fact that her skin constantly generated tiny droplets of moisture. Where the cloak ended at her waist, her human form transitioned seamlessly into those same oral arms from her Radi-Mon shape, undulating with hypnotic rhythm.

"This is much better for talking, right?" she said, tilting her head. Water droplets flew from her hair with the motion, catching the light like tiny diamonds. "The jellyfish form is great for flying between planets, but guys my age always get so weird about it. I'm Astrid, in case you didn't catch that earlier."

Jabari found himself staring, his Plasma Rifle lowering slightly. Focus, he told himself desperately. She's the enemy. She's Radi-Mon. She's—

Adorable?

The thought hit him. There was something about the way she kept pushing damp strands of hair behind her ear, only for them to immediately fall forward again. Utterly disarming.

"You're staring," Astrid observed, and was that a deeper blush spreading across her already-pink cheeks? "Is it the tentacles? They're actually useful. Watch!"

One of her oral arms whipped out to casually deflect a plasma bolt from an Ologun who'd tried to flank her, while another waved in what might have been a greeting.

"See? Multi-tasking!" She grinned, looking pleased with herself.

The insult he'd expected—something about humans' inferior intellect or primitive weapons—never came. Instead, she was looking at him with interest.

"So, tell me your name?" she asked, drifting slightly closer. The movement wasn't a walk so much as a glide, her oral arms providing locomotion as she floated, oddly graceful. "It's only polite. I told you mine."

Jabari slung his rifle onto his back, reaching for the Vibro-Spear there. The weapon extended with its familiar snap-hiss, the golden shaft unfolding, the blade adorned with green jewel humming as he planted his feet.

"I am Jabari, Lieutenant of the Directorate Space Corps. I am the strength of my people."

"Jabari," she repeated, rolling the name around like she was tasting it. Her eyes lit up. "A classic Maridian name! Heroic. So, you going to do something heroic now?"

He charged, Vibro-Spear raised high, drawing on Solar power as he ran. "Kra Nhyira!" The enhancement spell flooded his muscles with inner fire, lending speed and strength to his assault.

She raised one pale hand, water droplets flying from the motion. "Oh, we're doing spells? Kyrrð Ginnungagaps!"

The world went silent.

Not quiet—silent. The absence of sound was so complete that Jabari could hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears, the blood rushing through his veins. His battle cry died in his throat, swallowed by the unnatural Void energy that surrounded them.

But he pushed through the disorientation, his enhanced reflexes compensating. The Vibro-Spear thrust forward, its humming blade seeking her heart.

One of her oral arms intercepted with surprising speed, wrapping around the spear's haft. The vibrating edge sliced through the appendage's tip, sending transparent fluid splattering across the frozen ground. It looked exactly like water, complete with the way it beaded and rolled off surfaces.

"Ow!" Her voice carried through as the silence spell expired. "That hurt! Your spear's really sharp!"

Even in pain, she sounded more surprised than angry, like someone who'd accidentally cut herself in a lab.

"Beinaklifr!" The spell came with a gesture that sent ice erupting around his boots while skeletal hands burst from the permafrost to grab his ankles.

But Jabari was ready this time. "Susu Firi Owia!" Solar fire blazed from his free hand, melting the ice instantly. The skeletal hands crumbled to ash.

Then Astrid struck with three of her oral arms simultaneously—one targeting his shoulder, another his ribs, a third trying to entangle his spear. Jabari spun the weapon in a defensive pattern, the vibrating blade severing two appendages while the third struck his shoulder, sending him staggering.

Jabari's mind hesitated for a second. The liquid from Astrid's wounds had no color. None of the sticky texture, either. It may as well be water. Was there any blood in her at all?

"You're really good at this." Astrid said, sounding genuinely impressed even as she regenerated the severed arms with disturbing speed. "Most guys just stand there when I do the silence thing. Are you single, by the way?"

The question was so unexpected that Jabari nearly fell to the ground on her next attack. "Why are you asking!?"

"Skugga-fót!" Spectral chains materialized around his arms, but even as they tightened, Jabari channeled more Solar energy.

"Owia Kɔkɔbɔ Kyɛ!" A barrier of golden fire surrounded him, burning through her ethereal bindings. He broke free, advancing again with renewed determination.

For a moment, he thought he might actually win. His Solar Anansemka was holding against her Void Jǫturmál, his weapon finding its mark despite her defenses.

Then she did something he didn't expect. "You're really single, then." She said before giggling.

It wasn't a villain's laugh or a monster's cackle. It was the delighted giggle of someone having unexpected fun.

Jabari paused his attack. He knew he should not. None of this was making sense.

"Dauðrörun." The word was almost sing-song, like she was sharing a secret.

Suddenly Jabari's mind exploded with visions—memories that weren't his own flooding through his consciousness. He saw through the eyes of the dead, felt their final moments as the Jokull had claimed this place. But mixed in with the horror were other memories—Astrid's memories. Her excitement at her first successful transformation, her tears of frustration when someone named Harald Omdal had chosen to make her Radi-Mon instead of...his next wife? The loneliness of being the first of her kind, the betrayal—that she was an experiment rather than a life partner to someone.

The psychic assault shattered his concentration, leaving him gasping and vulnerable.

Multiple oral arms struck simultaneously—one wrapping around his waist, another across his chest, a third coiling around his throat with surprising gentleness. They lifted him effortlessly, his feet leaving the ground as she brought him to eye level.

"Got you!" she said, sounding delighted. Water droplets from her hair landed on his face like cool rain. "That was really fun. You lasted way longer than the last guy."

The oral arm around his throat shifted, revealing a crystalline stinger that gleamed with clear fluid. Jabari tried to cast another spell, but she was already moving.

"Ugyldiggjøring." This time the word was gentle, almost apologetic. Green lightning crackled along her arms—not painful, but disruptive, scattering his connection to his Aether like smoke in wind.

The stinger slipped into his neck with barely a whisper of pain, injecting something that raced through his veins like liquid starlight. Not quite poison. This was something else entirely, something that made his muscles lock into rigid paralysis even as his mind remained horrifyingly clear.

But worse than the paralysis was the other effect. Every nerve ending suddenly became hypersensitive, hyperaware. He could feel each droplet of water that fell from her perpetually moist skin, track the subtle movements of her oral arms, notice the way her chest rose and fell with each breath.

"There we go," she said softly, studying his face with those glacier eyes. "It shouldn't hurt. Does it hurt? Blink twice if it hurts."

Jabari couldn't even blink. His body was completely locked.

"Oh right, full paralysis. Sorry!" She looked chagrined. "I always forget that part. Let me just..." She made a small gesture, and suddenly he could move his eyelids and lips, though nothing else.

"I forgot. What's your name again?" she asked, tilting her head. More water droplets scattered from her midnight hair.

"J-Jabari," he managed through barely mobile lips.

"Jabari," she repeated, then smiled—a real smile, not a predator's grin. "I like it! Very musical. You know, you're the first guy who's actually fought back properly in months. Everyone else just screams or begs. It gets so boring."

"Are you serious?" The words came out strangled. His mind was reeling—she'd injected him with an experimental paralytic because she was... bored?

"Oh!" Her eyes widened, those flushed cheeks darkening further as her stinger explored his neck. "You have the Nucleus Virus too! Lotus variant," She leaned closer, and he could smell her—like fresh snow and ocean spray. "The integration pattern…definitely consensual sex. Was she pretty? I bet she was pretty."

"Anansi, what?!" He didn't understand—what virus? When had he—

The night with Fuuka. The realization hit him like cold water. The Moaning Lotus Ritual. That night of awakening, of his flesh being inside hers, of power flowing between them.