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

06:47, March 27, 2295

Stardust Command Fitness Center, Evanston, Illinois, Terra Alliance territory

Lorna panted as she lifted the two dumbbells, one in each hand. Twenty-nine pounds each—more than any other woman at Stardust Command would touch. Her ocean blue sportswear, its color mirroring her eyes, covered her entire upper torso, the high-tech fabric already damp with sweat despite its moisture-wicking properties as her blonde ponytail swayed with her movement.

Normally she'd wear her silver tank top, let the gym's air conditioning cool her exposed skin. But mornings meant crowds. Men her age who'd spend more time ogling her than lifting. She didn't need that distraction today.

The Pendant of Mánagrát bounced against her chest with each rep, its blue crystal catching the fluorescent lights. Seven days since Yosemite. Seven days since she'd told Thomas the truth. Seven days of processing what came next.

Focus on the weight. Focus on getting stronger.

She pushed through another set, muscles burning in that familiar way that meant progress. Her father was safe—for now. The Alliance had half the Yosemite shard. Håkon was adapting to life at Stardust Command with surprising ease, though keeping a Radi-Mon child secret was its own challenge.

Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen—

A piercing headache struck her temple, hitting like a sledgehammer.

"Fuck—!" Lorna's vision whited out. The dumbbells crashed to the rubber floor as she grabbed her skull, a scream tearing from her throat. But it wasn't her pain—someone else's agony flooded through the pendant's crystal, raw and overwhelming.

Spear through flesh. Toxin in blood. Falling, falling—

"Agent Weiss!" A medical technician rushed over, badge reading 'Kiran.' "Are you injured?"

"I'm—" Another wave hit. Distant sensations: pride, sacrifice, acceptance. Someone choosing death so others could live. The blue jewel of her pendant burned against her chest like a brand.

Make this a death worth remembering.

The foreign thoughts weren't hers, but she recognized the feeling. That same determination she'd felt three days ago when they'd fought for the Moondust shard in Yosemite. Jabari, that young Directorate warrior with the Vibro-Spear who'd—

"Get this off me!" Her fingers fumbled with the pendant's chain. The moment it left her neck, the sensations vanished like smoke. The headache remained, throbbing behind her eyes, but the alien presence was gone.

She knelt on the gym floor, breathing hard. The pendant dangled from her fist, its glow fading to normal.

"Should I call Doctor Nikki?" Kiran asked, hand already reaching for the comm unit strapped to his chest.

"No." Lorna stood slowly, testing her balance. "Just... pushed too hard."

Kiran didn't look convinced but helped her to a bench. "You dropped those weights like they burned you."

"Muscle cramp," she lied, tucking the pendant into her pocket. Without it touching her skin, she felt oddly hollow.

"I see." Kiran tilted his head, hesitating for a fraction of second before turning to leave. "I'll be here if you need anything."

"Yes. Thank you." Lorna exhaled as she stared into a mirror on the wall.

Her Quantum Watch buzzed.

Lorna raised her left wrist and tapped its sapphire dial. Director Otis's hologram manifested in the air.

"Lorna." His Armenian accent carried its usual measured calm. "I wanted to inform you personally. Given recent events and your team's exceptional performance at Yosemite, I'm authorizing a month's paid vacation for all SIMU operatives."

"Leave?" She sat on the bench, still catching her breath. "Director, we just secured half a Moondust shard. Shouldn't we be—"

"You should be resting. You've earned it. Starting tomorrow."

Lorna wiped sweat from her forehead. "And my father? What happens to him during this 'vacation'?"

"That's a more complex matter." A pause as he raised a hand. "We could discuss the situation—your father's status, your revealed identity, how we move forward—perhaps next month. When emotions have cooled."

"Next month?" The pendant felt heavy in her pocket. "Sir, my father's currently in holding at Stardust Command. My son is a Radi-Mon living in an Alliance facility. Half my team just found out I'm a Nordling. I don't want to leave this hanging for a month."

"Lorna—some things require time—"

"They deserve answers. I deserve answers. Are you planning to prosecute my pa? Am I still a SIMU operative? What about Håkon?"

She heard him sigh through the comm. "These aren't decisions I make alone. The Corporate Chamber has interests. The President has concerns."

"Then let me talk to them."

"It's not that simple. However..." Another pause, longer this time as he stroked his bearded chin. "President Harrison and Dante Pompeo are having dinner tonight at The Millennium Club. Private meeting about SIMU funding in light of recent developments. I will be there."

"Are they aware? About what I said and did on the mission?"

"Your name will certainly come up, yes. Your fate—potentially decided."

"Then I should be there."

"Even as a federal agent, you can't just invite yourself to a—"

"I'm not hiding anymore, Director. If they're going to decide what happens to my family, I want to look them in the eye while they do it."

The line went quiet. She could practically hear Otis weighing options in his head as his hologram sighed.

"You realize Dante Pompeo despises Harald," he finally said. "He's called for your father's execution twice this week alone."

"All the more reason I should be there."

"And the President has his own agenda. This isn't a friendly chat, Lorna. It's political maneuvering at the highest level."

"I've been maneuvering since I escaped Oslo. Just in different rooms."

Another long pause. Through the Quantum Watch's projection, she could see Otis stroke his white goatee—a tell she'd learned meant he was actually considering something rather than dismissing it.

"Perhaps it can be arranged." He turned slightly, and she caught a glimpse of two other figures at a table behind him. "Gentlemen, a moment?"

The hologram shifted as Otis's hologram walked back, the ambience around Lorna shifting. President Harrison Polk's sharp profile came into view, his signature business tie visible even in the blue-tinted projection. Delegate Dante Pompeo's massive frame dominated the other side of the table, cigar smoke curling up past his platinum white hair.

"—worth hearing her out?—" Harrison's voice seeped through, measured and calculating.

"—bring the father too—" That was Otis, gesturing with one hand.

Dante's growl was unmistakable, his thick neck reddening: "—complete waste of time—"

She watched Harrison lean back, fingers steepled in that way he did during press conferences on Atomic News Network. A small nod. Dante threw up his hands, cigar ash falling onto the tablecloth.

Otis turned back to face her directly, his expression carefully neutral but she caught the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth. "Eight o'clock tonight. The Millennium Club, private dining room. Youi may bring your father and Xin. Formal attire."

"Thank you. What about…" She found her own posture wavering, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "Håkon?"

Through the hologram, she saw Otis's eyes flicker with something—amusement? Concern? "Your son...may come. They have accommodations for unusual dining requirements. Though I suggest keeping him discrete."

"Understood." Discrete. Right. Because nothing said discrete like bringing a baby Radi-Mon to dinner with the President.

Behind Otis, Dante was already pouring himself another drink, shaking his head. Harrison had returned to studying something on his own watch, but she caught him glancing up, studying Otis with those calculating eyes.

"Lorna, I hope you realize this is a big risk we're taking. Don't make me regret it."

"I won't, sir."

Otis started to turn away, then paused as Harrison and Dante's holograms vanished. "That pendant you wear—leave it in your pocket during dinner. We don't need Delegate Pompeo knowing you possess a personal Crystal fragment. Not yet."

The hologram flickered and vanished.

Lorna stared at the empty air where Otis's hologram had been. Eight o'clock. That gave her just over twelve hours to prepare for the most important negotiation of her life.

She picked up the dumbbells, racking them properly despite her shaking hands. The pendant weighed heavy in her pocket, its edges pressing through the fabric. Whatever connection she'd felt—whoever's death she'd witnessed—would have to wait.

The walk to the residential wing took five minutes. She found Xin in his quarters, doors open, surrounded by holographic displays of code while Håkon perched on his shoulder, mimicking typing motions with his tiny claws.

"Pappa work?" Håkon chirped, his vocabulary growing daily.

"That's right, buddy. Pappa's working on—" Xin looked up, taking in her sweat-soaked appearance and tight expression. "Hey, Lorna. Everything's alright?"

"We have dinner tonight. With Director Otis and the President."

Xin's hands froze over the holographic keyboard. "The President of the Alliance?"

"Yeah. Harrison Polk, Dante Pompeo—the big tiger that funds half our salaries, and Otis. They want to discuss our future." She pulled the Pendant of Mánagrát from her pocket, setting it on the table. "All of our futures."

"Mama okay?" Håkon stretched his neck toward her, scales shifting to a worried purple-gray.

"Mama's fine, baby." She stroked his head, feeling him lean into her touch. "Just planning a big dinner."

"Alright. When?" Xin dismissed his displays with a gesture.

"Eight tonight. The Millennium Club in Chicago. Formal attire." She paused. "My father needs to be there too."

Xin's expression darkened. "Is he still in holding?"

"Minimum security, but yes. I need to get him cleared for the dinner." She grabbed the comm unit on the wall, dialing a number with her ivory fingers. The call connected after a few ringings. "Diego? I need a favor."

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"Hermana, you're supposed to be resting. What's up?" Diego's voice carried concern.

"I need my father Harald released for a dinner engagement tonight. Director's orders."

"Harald Omdal? Lorna, there are seventeen different hold orders on him—"

"Yeah, you can call Otis. He'll confirm. We need him at The Millennium Club by eight."

"The Millennium—mierda, that's the place that still allows cigars, isn't it? My grandfather used to talk about it. Pre-war money, old Chicago families."

"That's the one." A smile lifted at the corner of her lips.

"I'll make the arrangements. You're bringing a torch to a powder keg, huh?"

"I know." She glanced at Xin, who was already pulling up formal wear options on his display. "But hiding hasn't worked for my people. Time to try something else."

After ending the call, she found Xin staring at a suit that probably cost more than most people's monthly salary—black with golden embroidery, teal accents.

"Where did you even find that?"

"Emmanuel sent me the link last week. Said if I ever needed to look 'properly intimidating' at a formal event..." He shrugged. "Guess this qualifies."

"You talked to Manny about formal wear?"

"He's been helping me understand Alliance social dynamics—and just generally acting more naturally. Thomas too, before..." Xin trailed off.

Before she'd revealed she was a Nordling. Thomas had barely spoken to her since.

"Think it's too much?" Xin asked, gesturing at the suit.

"No. It's perfect. You'll look like you belong there." She touched his shoulder. "We need every advantage tonight."

17:00, March 27, 2295

Weiss's Quarters, 78F, Stardust Command, Evanston, Illinois

Three hours later, Lorna stood under the shower's warm cascade, letting the water wash away the gym's sweat and the lingering echo of that psychic connection. Steam filled the small hygiene station as she worked shampoo through her blonde hair.

In the shower, naked and momentarily relaxed with the warm water tracing the curves and angles of her body, Lorna's ivory hand wandered to her ample breasts, squeezing them softly as she rubbed shower gel across her skin. She stared down at herself, suddenly thoughtful.

In the past, she'd hardly hesitated to get intimate with her friends with benefits in SIMU. Thomas, Emmanuel, and others who were no longer with them. Sex and one-night stands had never needed much justification. But somehow, with Xin, the idea had never really crossed her mind. It was like a part of her wanted to figure him out, to take things slow but really show Xin the woman she was instead of having him see her as a sweet beautiful nothing that could be bedded and forgotten.

Strange. Xin was nowhere near as conventionally handsome or physically imposing as Thomas or Emmanuel.

It felt like she wanted to make herself special for him at times, though the reasons remained hazy. Her body was made for war and pleasure, of this there was no doubt. But she wondered how Xin would react if he were to ever see her naked.

She sighed. With the Fenris strain of the Nucleus Virus in her, they could never have sex. Not without spreading the virus to Xin and potentially killing him. But then she wondered—hadn't Xin also acquired a Rakshasa strain from Kathrin, just through a less invasive method? Her mind drifted, wondering what it'd mean if their viruses mixed somehow...

Lorna sighed again and continued showering, her voice rising in the familiar melody that always calmed her nerves:

"Og når morgenen gryr... skal vi finne vår vei... gjennom is og gjennom ild... til der håpet alltid dveler..."

And when morning dawns... we shall find our way... through ice and through fire... to where hope always dwells.

Her mother—her real mother, not Maren Fjeld who'd given birth to and abandoned her, but the foster mother who'd raised her those first few years in Oslo—used to sing it when storms rattled their windows. A promise that no matter how dark the night, morning would come. They'd survive.

She'd sung it to herself on that plane from Oslo to Copenhagen, tears freezing on her cheeks. Sung it in Lund when the nights got too quiet. Sung it the first night after joining SIMU, terrified someone would discover her lie.

Now she sang it before facing the men who held her family's fate in their hands.

"Stjernene viser vei... for den som våger å se... gjennom tårer og gjennom tid... skal vi finne fred til slutt..."

The stars show the way... for those who dare to see... through tears and through time... we shall find peace at last.

Peace. What a concept.

Lorna finished showering and shut off the water, wrapping herself in a towel before stepping out. The mirror showed her reflection—scarred in small places from missions, but her wounds always healed one way or another. She was still strong. Still standing.

Time to armor up for a different kind of battle.

She dried off methodically, then opened her closet. There it hung—the midnight blue blazer from that night with Emmanuel at The Quantum Pour. Same blazer, different intent entirely. Tonight wasn't about seduction or momentary comfort. Tonight was about power.

She selected a deep blue silk blouse, its color nearly matching the blazer. As she buttoned it, she left the top two undone—enough to display the Pendant of Mánagrát prominently if she needed. The crystal caught the light, a deliberate reminder of what she possessed.

Let them see it. Let them know I'm not hiding anymore.

The matching tailored pants came next, the full suit projecting authority rather than availability. She twisted her damp hair up into an elegant chignon, securing it with hidden pins. Controlled. Professional. Nothing loose or casual about her appearance.

A touch of makeup—not too much, just enough to ensure she looked polished rather than tired. The scar on her cheek she left visible. Battle marks had their own power in negotiations.

From across the room came the sound of crayons on paper. Håkon sat at her desk, completely absorbed in his coloring book. Both his clawed hands gripped crayons—azure in the left, vermillion in the right—as he carefully filled in what looked like a dragon.

Time had been passing fast since Håkon'd entered her life. Earlier this month, she'd often hear his mental voice through their shared psychic channel. Now, he rarely used the channel anymore. Perhaps discovering and developing gestures and human speech had made the channel redundant. Like discarding an umbilical cord.

"You're doing great, baby." she said softly, crossing to him.

Håkon looked up, scales shifting to pleased gold. "Dragon! Like me!"

"Just like you." She kissed the top of his scaly head, breathing in his unique scent—sulfur and mint and something indefinably hers. "But you're much cuter."

He preened at that, returning to his coloring with renewed focus. Such a normal moment in their decidedly abnormal life. Her son, a Diabolisk. Her lover, infected with an alien virus. Her father, creator of monsters. And her, a Nordling pretending to be Valoran for eight years.

Lorna smoothed her blazer, checking her appearance in the mirror. Professional. Powerful. Ready.

The doorbell chimed.

"That'll be Pa," Lorna said, giving herself one last check in the mirror before heading to the door.

Harald arrived under guard. Two junior Psi Lynxes flanked him, their forms covered in trench coats similar to Lorna's, but their faces were hidden behind tactical masks, 10mm Magnums present on their belts. Her father looked exactly as he had seven days ago—wild white hair somewhat tamed, his old grey suit pressed but dated, that eternal look of bitter amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Sigrún." He used her real name, as always. "I'm told we're dining with the American President."

"Far, [Father,]" She'd been calling him that, trying to rebuild what eleven years had stolen. "Thank you for coming."

"Olav should join us soon. Your 'prestigious' Doctor Nikki insists that he go through another round of medical examination." His tone was lighter than expected. Harald seemed calmer for having had days of relative safety. "I think she's trying to pet him."

"Nikki does have a soft spot for rodents."

"Soft spot or not, Olav is no one's pet. Not without my permission, at least." He studied her, taking in the careful formality of her appearance. His eyes lingered on her chest. "You'll be wearing it? The Pendant of Mánagrát?"

She touched the crystal instinctively where it rested against her blouse. "My boss wants me to keep it hidden tonight."

"Wise. Though they'll ask about it eventually. Men like your Dante Pompeo always sniff out power."

"He…takes some getting used to." Lorna said as she eyed the escorts behind Harald. "Can we have some privacy here?"

The Psi Lynxes withdrew to positions by the door—present but unobtrusive. Lorna gestured Harald inside, closing the door behind him.

"The pendant showed me something today, when I was at the gym." She hesitated, then began. "A vision, or a connection. Someone dying. I think it's Jabari—that young Directorate warrior who fought us over the Moondust shard at Yosemite."

Harald's expression sharpened, the casual amusement vanishing. "The fragments are beginning to resonate. I wondered when that would start."

"You knew this would happen?"

"I suspected. The Crystal wants to be whole. It will call to its scattered pieces through those who carry them." He moved to the window, looking out at Lake Michigan's dark waters. "Tell me about this vision."

"Pain. A spear through flesh. Someone choosing to die so others could escape." She rubbed her temple where the headache still lingered. "Pride. Sacrifice. Acceptance. Then…nothing."

"So, the Directorate boy—he touched the Crystal directly?"

"Drove his Vibro-Spear right through it. Split the Yosemite shard in half."

"Then he's marked, just as you are by your pendant. The Crystal remembers those who wound it." Harald turned back to her. "You'll have more visions. Possibly of others who've handled the fragments. Possibly of the Crystal itself."

"Wonderful." She moved to her desk, picking up the pendant. "Should I not wear it, then?"

"That depends. For one, being free from the other shards' voices could be a small respite. On the other hand, the resonance is useful intelligence."

Before she could respond, Håkon looked up from his coloring. "Farfar! [Grandpa!]"

Harald's stern expression softened slightly. "Håkon. I see you're an artist."

Håkon held up his coloring book proudly. "Dragon! Like me!"

"Indeed." Harald moved closer, studying the carefully colored picture. "Good control. At this rate, you'll be learning precise Lunar and Solar spells before the year ends."

"Pa," Lorna said quickly. "He's just a child. Don't push him so hard."

"Of course, I merely mean it as encouragement." Harald chuckled lightly at that.

"Mama say good," Håkon continued as he held the coloring book, still brightened. "Farfar like drawing?"

"I used to." Harald said as he knelt down to give the little Diabolisk a gentle pat on the head. "Go on, little dragon. Don't let us disrupt your fun."

Håkon trilled in content as he paced to the side, the coloring book held protectively in his tiny hands.

Harald then turned to Lorna. "Now, about this dinner. What do they want?"

"To decide if you're an asset or a threat. If I'm still useful now that I've exposed myself as a Nordling. If Håkon is too dangerous to allow freedom." Lorna saw in a low voice.

"And what do you want?"

Lorna fastened the pendant around her neck, tucking it beneath her blouse where it would be hidden but accessible. "Safety for our family. Freedom to do our jobs. A chance to stop Skarn before he destroys everything."

"Then we give them reasons to need us." Harald straightened his tie—an old blue thing that had seen better decades. "The Nucleus Suit they've been developing—it's based on my work, isn't it?"

"Pa? What are you talking about?"

"My published essay from '83. 'Theoretical Applications of Controlled Cellular Liquefaction in Combat Scenarios.' I recognize the terminology in their requisition reports."

Lorna could not comprehend the phrases, but decided she should not need to. "You've been reading classified requisitions?"

"But it's a rather complex exosuit based on Directorate schematics, plus a dozen other Digital Age designs. I doubt the Alliance can figure it all out." He waved off her concern and adjusted his cuffs. "Shall we prepare for war, daughter?"

"It's just dinner, Pa."

"No." His blue eyes held hers. "With the Terra Alliance, it's never just dinner."

A knock at the door interrupted them. "It's open," Lorna called.

Xin emerged wearing his suit, and Lorna had to admit Emmanuel had excellent taste. The black fabric with golden embroidery transformed him from programmer to power player. The dark teal shirt brought out warmth in his eyes behind those signature black-rimmed glasses.

"You clean up nice," she said, meaning it.

"Well, I had great help." He adjusted his tie with nervous fingers. "Emmanuel picked the cufflinks."

Håkon immediately abandoned his coloring book to investigate, circling Xin with excited chirps. "Pappa cool!"

"Hey, buddy. Pappa's cool for the big dinner." Xin knelt to Håkon's level, his formal attire making the gesture oddly touching. "You'll be good tonight, okay? No scratching."

"No scratching," Håkon agreed cautiously, then immediately perked up. "But magic?"

"No magic either," Lorna said firmly, joining them. "You're going to sit with Olav and enjoy your dinner like a good boy."

"Okay Mama." His tail swished in a way that suggested he was already planning mischief.

Harald watched the family exchange with something unreadable in his storm-blue eyes. "He's remarkably well-behaved for a Diabolisk this young."

"He's remarkable, period." Lorna scooped Håkon up, settling him on her left shoulder. He nestled against her like any child seeking comfort. "Still small, but his mind grows faster every day."

Too fast, maybe. But that was a worry for another night.

"The taxi will be here in ten minutes," Xin said, checking his watch. "Diego arranged something he calls…'a discrete transport'. Tinted windows, the works, that sort of thing."

"Good." Lorna looked between the three males in her life—her father the genius terrorist, her lover the virus-infected programmer, and her son the baby Radi-Mon. Her unconventional family. "Any questions about tonight?"

"Several," Harald said dryly. "Starting with why I shouldn't simply turn everyone in that room into ice sculptures."

"Because we need them," Lorna said. "And because you're not that terrorist the Atomic News tries to paint you as."

"Aren't I?" But he smiled slightly. "I'll play nice with the Valorans for you."

"And I'll do so for us," Xin added with an almost uncharacteristic grit. "I'd like to think we're a family now."

The word hung in the air. Family. Such a simple concept that had become so complicated for all of them.

Even Harald's bitter expression softened at that. "You sound like one of those actors in old Valoran movies."

"Family," Håkon repeated happily, reaching out to pat both Xin's face and Harald's hand with his small claws. "Family-together-good!"

A soft chime from Xin's Quantum Watch. "Car's here."

Lorna took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "Let's go negotiate with the devil," she said.

"Which one?" Harald asked as they headed for the door. "In my experience, Alliance politics has several."

The other Psi Lynxes fell into step as they entered the hallway. For all the formal clothes and family moments, they were still walking into a dinner that'd be anything but harmonious.

But at least they were walking in together.