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

15:40, March 20, 2295

Underground Passages, Mount Lyell Area, Former Yosemite National Park

They left the laboratory behind, Lorna's mind churning with questions she couldn't yet voice. The antivenom had cleared the paralytic. Ahead, Olav led the way, the tiny fusion torch in his hand, raised to illuminate the dungeon.

The tunnel opened into a vast natural cavern, ice formations giving way to raw stone. Bioluminescent growths—some kind of mutated lichen—provided an eerie green glow. At the far end, a figure waited. A creature resembling polar bear standing on two, strong and dignified, plate armor decorating its strong limbs.

"Of course," Lorna muttered to herself. "You would be here."

Ulrik stood like a monument. The massive armored bear's white fur caught the bioluminescence, making him seem to glow from within. His one-handed hammer, Rimfrost, rested casually against one shoulder.

"The Last Daughter arrives," Ulrik rumbled, his voice carrying easily across the cavern. "Lady Fjeld said you would come, once the giant red bird drew the Fenris dog's attention skyward."

"You mean the Dragonfort," Lorna realized. "That's my enemy's ship."

"It carries the Moondust Crystal's primary piece. Skarn directed my Glacierwurms to assault it." Ulrik confirmed, taking a step forward. His armor clinked softly. Lorna could now see clearly—Zephyrium-laced metal over natural bulk of stone. "He now gathers forces to claim that artifact, leaving other matters to…trusted pack leaders."

"So, my mother." The words tasted bitter. "Maren. She's alive? She's behind this alliance between Jokull and Fenris?"

"Lady Fjeld sees far." Ulrik's tone carried reverence. "Where Harald saw only tools and experiments, she saw children worth teaching. It was she who contacted Skarn after his triumph on Shashan, the moon of Rakshasa. The merger of our hordes serves her vision."

Olav chittered a warning. Lorna heard it too—movement in the tunnels behind Ulrik. Multiple creatures approaching.

"She wants to meet you," Ulrik's grip shifted on Rimfrost. "Properly this time. Mother to daughter. Queen to heir."

"Heir?" The word tasted like bile. Lorna's hand moved unconsciously to her abdomen again, remembering those floating eggs in the Vöxtr, remembering how the Fenormr had looked at her. Not as a person. Not even as an enemy. As a womb. "You mean breeding stock."

"Lady Fjeld sees your potential—"

"My potential?" Rage bubbled up, hot and visceral. "To be strapped to that machine? To have my eggs harvested like I'm some kind of—" She couldn't finish. The words were too degrading.

"If you must phrase it that way, yes." Ulrik relented, sorrow lacing his voice.

"Well, I'm not her heir, I'm not her fancy mare, I'm not her anything!" Lorna shot back bitterly. "She left me at the hospital! It was my pa that came to me, even before he divorced."

Ulrik's massive head tilted as he pointed at Lorna's neck, where her amulet was glowing brighter. "Harald saved you to nurture hmself a key, but it's Lady Fjeld who has the lock. You must see beyond their actions."

The first Krabba emerged from the tunnel, followed by more. Different from the ones she'd fought before—their shells bore runic inscriptions that glowed with the same light as the cavern's lichen. Behind them, more Fenormr slithered into view.

Lorna looked around, counting their opponents. Too many. Was there a way she and Olav could fight off this many?

"Come willingly, and I guarantee safe passage. Refuse, and..." Ulrik shrugged, a gesture strange on such a massive frame. "Lady Fjeld will be disappointed, but she'll make do. She always has."

Lorna's answer was to draw both weapons. Beside her, Olav raised his fusion torch with grim determination.

"So be it," Ulrik sighed. "Take them alive. Dead if necessary. Lady Fjeld will understand."

The Jokull forces surged forward as one.

The first Krabba reached them, claws scissoring where Lorna had been a heartbeat before. She rolled beneath its strike, Baldr carving through a leg joint. But there were too many, pressing from all sides. Olav darted between them, fusion torch leaving burns on exposed joints, but it was impossible to make use of those. They were vastly outnumbered.

A Fenormr's coils caught Lorna's ankle. She twisted, firing Váli into its mouth, but two more were already moving. Ulrik watched from the cavern's center, patient as a glacier.

"The choice is yours, Sigrún Fjeld," he rumbled. "Accept your destiny, or be ground to dust."

That's when Lorna felt it: the familiar burn in her blood, but different this time.

She'd been fighting it, holding it back since the Starport in Taiwan, but now...

The Nucleus Virus in her body wasn't just responding to mortal danger now, but to her rage. To the degradation. They looked at her and saw only ovaries. A walking incubator. Prize livestock to be bred.

No more.

The Fenris strain surged through her veins like molten fury. If they wanted to reduce her to base biology, to see her as nothing but flesh and breeding potential, then she'd show them what flesh could do.

"Olav—" she gasped, "Stay—behind—me."

The change hit like an avalanche. Her vision sharpened to predatory clarity. Her muscles coiled with unnatural strength. The careful control she maintained shattered, replaced by something older, hungrier, more honest. Váli and Baldr fell forgotten as she moved like a wrathful angel.

The next Krabba to reach her didn't die cleanly. Lorna's gloved hands found the seam between shell plates and pulled. The creature's shriek cut off as she tore its limbs off, one arm, one leg, then two legs—the poor Radi-Mon's golden ichor painting the cavern walls.

"The Nucleus Virus!" Ulrik observed, though he sounded more intrigued than alarmed. "Such honor to watch Skarn's mark unfold."

Lorna didn't answer. Couldn't answer. The virus sang through her veins, demanding violence. A Fenormr tried to coil around her; she opened her jaw and bit through its scales, tasting copper and the sour blood beneath as the giant python screamed in agony.

The careful warrior was gone. In her place stood something primal, efficient, terrible. As the Fenormr retreated in fear, she spit out the scales stuck in her teeth before looking back up.

"Mánafrost Leiftr!" The spell tore from her throat in perfect Jǫturmál, though she'd never studied the words. Frost bolts erupted from her hands, piercing three Krabba at once.

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"Gravitas, Abesto!" Another spell, this time in Ordovox. The gravity around a pair of Fenormr reversed, sending them crashing into the ceiling with meat-breaking force.

Some part of her mind—the part still Lorna, still human—screamed warnings. But the virus didn't care. It pulled knowledge from her blood, from genetic memory, from the pendant that blazed at her throat.

Within minutes, a dozen Jokull creatures lay broken around her. The survivors retreated behind Ulrik, who no longer looked patient.

"Impressive," he admitted. "I see why Skarn calls you the perfect crucible. Young, fertile, strong. You are meant to carry the sacred strains—"

The words hit. Fertile. Crucible. Meant to carry. That's how her entire worth was measured in all their eyes. The virus roared through her blood in response to her disgust, her fury at being reduced to a thing, a vessel, a—

"I am NOT your BROODMARE!" The scream tore from her throat, half human rage, half viral fury. She launched herself at Ulrik with inhuman speed, covering the distance in a single bound.

Swinging his hammer, Ulrik's eyes widened before her bare hands met Rimfrost's haft. The polar bear's strength was legendary, but Lorna's virus-enhanced muscles strained against her ballistic weave as she grappled with him directly.

"Skjöldr Vörn!" Ulrik's Jǫturmál incantation created a barrier of crystalline ice, but Lorna's fist punched through it like paper.

"I'll fucking eat you alive!" Her strength sent chunks of broken ice spinning around them wildly.

Ulrik was forced to duck, his massive frame moving with surprising agility. "You fight like a proper beast," he rumbled approvingly, swinging Rimfrost in a wide arc. "The Fenris strain befits you!"

The hammer's head trailed frost as it swept toward her. Lorna twisted away, feeling the seams of her turtleneck strain as her shoulders muscle stretched with power. Her trench coat pulled tight across her back as she moved, the ballistic weave groaning under the pressure.

"Fulmen Argentum!" Silver lightning erupted from her bare hands, forcing Ulrik to leap aside. Where it struck the ground, stone melted into slag.

"Mánafrost Leiftr!" Ulrik's counter-spell sent a spear of lunar ice toward her chest.

Lorna caught it—physically caught it—in her hand. The ice burned against her glove's fabric, but she crushed it to powder. Her military pants stretched tight against her legs as she planted her feet and pushed forward.

"Monstrocity," Ulrik breathed, raising Rimfrost defensively.

"Glacies Lunae Fulgur!" The Ordovox incantation sent a bolt of sapphire energy from her open palm that punched through his guard, scoring a line across his armored chest.

For the first time in their encounters, Ulrik stepped back. Blood—actual blood—seeped through his fur where her spell had landed. Around them, the surviving Krabba and Fenormr pressed against the cavern walls.

"A worthy foe." Ulrik observed, his tone carrying new respect as he lunged forward, Rimfrost raised, prepared to strike.

"Scutum Lunaris!" Her defensive spell created a shimmering barrier just as Ulrik's hammer strike would have caved in her skull.

The impact sent both of them sliding backward. Ulrik's claws scraped furrows in the stone as he struggled to maintain balance. Lorna's boots left their own marks, deeper than any human should have been able to make

The cavern shook. Cracks spread across the ceiling as Lorna's uncontrolled psionic power destabilized the stone. Ulrik's eyes widened—even he hadn't expected this.

"Retreat!" He bellowed to his remaining forces. "The cavern won't hold."

The surviving Krabba and Fenormr scrambled for the tunnel exits, their earlier coordination dissolved into panicked flight. But Lorna was faster. She caught the nearest Fenormr as it tried to slither away, her bare hands finding the soft tissue where its scales met. The creature's death shriek echoed through the cavern as she tore the serpant apart with inhuman strength.

"It was educative to behold the Fenris strain, Last Daughter," Ulrik called as he retreated deeper into the tunnels. "We shall meet again."

The cavern shook ominously as they disappeared, leaving Lorna alone with her kill and the growing structural damage.

"I'm hungry…" she suddenly said over the exhaustion that took over. "So hungry…"

Lorna turned at the sound of chittering, virus-mad eyes fixing on the next target. Olav. The Grávomb stood frozen near the wall, his fusion torch raised defensively.

Weak. Succulent. Prey. Meat! Food! The virus didn't distinguish.

She stalked toward him, hands crackling with lingering Lunar energy. Olav chittered frantically, backing away. He was trying to speak, she realized dimly, but the words meant nothing through the frenzied haze guiding her body.

"Come, my little meat. Nourish me." The horrifying words parting from her lips did not feel like her own. "I promise to kill you quickly. Cook you through with my spells. Oooor, medium-well. Hmm. Softer ribs."

Some distant part of her recognized the horror while the virus part rejoiced—what wrong was there to do to Olav what they wanted to do to her? To measure him as biological material. To treat him as meat to be consumed, just as the cold, indifferent universe saw her as eggs to be fertilized.

Please run, Olav. Please run as fast as you can! The last sliver of Lorna's consciousness begged. It was there, but far from enough to reclaim her body.

Then Olav did something unexpected. From his pack, he pulled food—the same kind from their meal at Harald's encampment.

An open-faced sandwich, pieces of smoked salmon, fresh greens and red Martian spices on top. The food rested on a clean silver plate, still wrapped in its transparent preservation casing. Olav's small hands worked with practiced efficiency, removing the casing and setting the plate gently at her feet.

Then, he dropped to all fours, posture completely submissive. His fusion torch clattered to the ground, extinguished. He made no move to flee.

The scent hit her like a physical blow. Salmon, vegetables, baked bread. But more than that—care. Love. The memory of Harald's weathered hands preparing the meal, of Håkon's delighted chirping as he tasted new flavors, of Olav's patient work in the kitchen, of Xin resting beside them.

Family. Home.

The Fenris virus fought her, demanding she complete the kill, but other memories pushed through. Olav helping her down these tunnels. Olav assisting her fight the Fenormr earlier. Harald taking care of her son Håkon, Olav sharing bowls of Helionite soup with Håkon, Xin helping Håkon brush his teeth—

"No," she gasped, the word tearing from a human throat instead of a monster's maw. "Not...food. Family."

The virus receded like a tide, leaving her gasping on her knees. Around them, the cavern continued to crack and groan. Ulrik and his forces had fled deeper, abandoning the collapsing chamber.

Her hands were still shaking—not from exhaustion, but from what she'd almost done. What she'd almost become.

Olav approached cautiously, retrieving the plate of food. When Lorna rose with shaking hands and legs, he chittered with obvious relief before adding in Jǫturmál, "Góður matur. Hægt að hita upp. Hægt að borða síðar. [Good food. Can be heated up. Can be eaten later.]"

"Thank you," she managed, her voice raw. The smell of the salmon still lingered, cutting through the copper taste of blood in her mouth. "For stopping me. For knowing how."

Olav nodded, then pointed urgently at the growing cracks overhead.

She gathered her dropped weapons, pushing Baldr's hilt and Vali into her coat pockets, her legs steadying as she stood tall. "New route?"

Olav was already moving, leading her to what looked like a solid wall. A few touches on specific stones revealed a maintenance passage.

They squeezed through just as the main cavern collapsed behind them, sealing off pursuit. The passage was tight, clearly meant for Grávomb workers rather than humans, but Lorna managed.

"Lead the way, okay?" she whispered to Olav's back as they crawled. "I'll follow you."

His response was a gentle pat on her hand before continuing forward.

The passage seemed to stretch forever, but finally opened into a narrow crevice that led upward. Blue light filtered down from above.

That's when her silver Quantum Watch chimed.

The sound was clear in the confined space. Lorna froze, one hand still braced against the passage wall. The watch's sapphire dial flickered to life, showing an incoming transmission.

But that was impossible. The signal had been breaking up even at the upper levels. Down here, buried under tons of rock and ice, there should be no connection at all.

Unless...

Lorna stared at the pendant at her throat. It pulsed with soft blue light, brighter than usual. The Moondust Crystal fragment. Could it be amplifying the signal somehow?

The watch chimed again, insistent. Someone was trying very hard to reach her.

Olav turned back, his dark eyes reflecting the pendant's glow. He chittered softly—an eager approval, urging her to answer it.

Lorna took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever news awaited. After everything she'd learned about her mother, about the Vöxtr machine that her father designed, about the virus in her blood, she wasn't sure she could handle another revelation.

But she had to know.

She raised her hand to tap the watch's holographic answer button.