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

Mars Standard Time: 06:30, May 11, 2295 (Earth Day Equivalent)

Aboard Ironsides VII, a Terra Alliance Aegis battlecruiser approaching Mars

The red planet hung before them like a warning written in rust.

Xin adjusted his glasses, watching Lorna shift Håkon's weight on her hip.

She sat next to him in her signature navy turtleneck and beige trench coat, but something was different. The month of steady meals and rest had restored the luster to her blonde hair, now pulled back in that practical ponytail. Her face had lost the gaunt edges from their Yosemite ordeal, color returned to her ivory cheeks.

His gaze dropped—he couldn't help it. The turtleneck stretched differently across her ample breasts now, the change unmistakable through the ballistic weave. Post-pregnancy, he knew. Basic biology. But knowing the science didn't stop the heat from racing through him, or the questions that followed. In all their shared quarters, all of Håkon's feedings, he'd only ever seen her give him specialized foods. Never—

"See something you like?" Her voice carried amusement, not accusation.

Heat flushed his face. "I mean, I was, but—"

"Xin." She touched his cheek, smiling. "We're together. You're allowed to look."

"You look..." He swallowed, trying to find words that weren't crude or clinical. "Healthy. Beautiful. More... yourself?"

"Smooth talker." But her eyes softened.

Thirty-two days since they'd left Earth, and he still wasn't used to how right they looked together—mother and son, even if the son had scales and mandibles. The little Diabolisk pressed his claws against the viewport, scales shifting to curious gold.

"Big red ball," Håkon announced. "Why red?"

"Iron oxide, mijo," Diego answered from behind them, not looking up from his tablet. "Óxido, you know? Like when your Pappa's tools get rusty."

"Rust bad for engines," Håkon said solemnly. "Pappa says."

Xin felt warmth spread through his chest—a sensation that had nothing to do with the Nucleus Virus constantly simmering in his blood. "That's right, buddy. But this rust is different. It's just... dust."

He squeezed Lorna's free hand, feeling the calluses from her weight training. Through the viewport, Mars's southern hemisphere showed patches of green and blue where terraforming steel and streetlight defied the desert. But he noticed how her sapphire eyes kept drifting north, to the dark brown veins spreading from Olympus Mons. Even from orbit, the corruption was obvious—organic patterns that reminded him too much of the hive clusters they'd seen on Earth.

"Mother fucking…that's creepy," Emmanuel muttered, joining them at the viewport.

Thomas remained at his seat across the deck, still stripping and reassembling his Gauss Rifle with mechanical precision. "Those brown patches weren't that big three years ago. Those Fenris bastards' been nesting hard."

"The Fenris Horde's been busy." Dr. Nikki appeared at Lorna's other side, medical scanner already in hand. "How's our little dragon today?"

"Aunt Nikki!" Håkon's scales burst into excited azure as he reached for her, nearly tumbling from Lorna's arms in his excitement.

"Hello, sweetheart." Nikki's whole demeanor softened—something Xin had watched develop over the past month. The Djinno woman who'd been cautious about treating a Radi-Mon child now fussed over Håkon like family. "Have you been drinking your special apple juice?"

"Three cups! Pappa count."

Xin nodded when Nikki glanced at him for confirmation. He'd made it part of their morning routine—checking Håkon's specialized hydration, monitoring his color changes, teaching him new words between coding sessions, and helping Harald brew the custom-made apple juice that ensured Håkon's positive mental health.

The domesticity of it should have felt strange. Instead, it felt like something he'd been missing without knowing it.

Xin watched the easy affection between them, something that would have been impossible a month ago. The journey had changed things. Nikki checking Håkon's vitals every morning, teaching him anatomy words he'd mangle adorably. The doctor who'd never married or had children, now fussing over a Radi-Mon child like he was her nephew.

"Growth rate still significantly delayed," Nikki murmured to Lorna, though Xin caught every word. Enhanced hearing—a gift from the Rakshasa virus he'd contracted by drinking Kathrin's milk on the distant moon Shashan, where Lorna had given birth to Håkon. "But his neural development..." She shook her head. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Look! I maked Mars!" Håkon wiggled until Lorna set him down, immediately producing a crumpled paper. Xin recognized his morning's work—red crayon circles with aggressive green scribbles. "See? Trees for when we fix it."

"¿Cuando lo arreglamos?" Diego looked up from his tablet, eyebrow raised. "That's optimistic, pequeño."

"Mars sick. We make better." Håkon nodded seriously, adding more green marks. "Trees make oxy-gin."

"Oxygen, boy." Xin corrected gently, crouching beside him.

"Well, he's not wrong," Nikki said. "The terraforming in that mega city, Xing Hong, uses genetically modified plant life to maintain the atmosphere. Though the oxygen levels are still only about sixty percent of Earth normal."

"Hence why we'll need breathers for extended outdoor activity," Director Otis's voice carried from across the deck. "In any event, the ship's pressure will help us acclimate during descent."

Xin watched Lorna touch her chest—an unconscious gesture he'd noticed more frequently. The Pendant of Mánagrát hidden beneath her deep blue turtleneck. She'd told him about the visions during their late-night talks. Fragments of violence and determination bleeding through the Crystal connection. Someone dying, maybe Jabari. The uncertainty ate at her, he could tell.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Mama sad?" Håkon tugged at Lorna's leg, scales shifting to worried blue-gray.

"Just thinking, baby." She ran her fingers over his head ridges. "Big thoughts about Mars."

Xin knew that tone. The weight she carried—her father's warnings about the Crystal, Skarn waiting below, the crew still adjusting to her revealed identity. Thomas hadn't looked at her directly in weeks, and it hurt her more than she'd admit.

Through the viewport, Olympus Mons grew larger as Ironsides adjusted orbit. The massive volcano's peak vanished into thin atmosphere, its slopes crawling with corruption.

"ETA to descent, seven hours," the comm announced.

Thomas finally looked up, his gaze sliding past Lorna like she was empty space. "I'll prep the StarWhale for recon flights. We'll need aerial surveillance before—"

An alarm pulsed through the deck. Not combat alerts—proximity warnings. Xin's hand moved instinctively to his holstered pistol, a month of drills making the motion automatic.

"Órale, we got company," Diego read from his tablet. "Multiple entities rising from the northern hemisphere. Organic signatures. They're... coño, they're huge."

Through the viewport, dark shapes lifted from around Olympus Mons. Membranous wings, wide bodies, resemblings the marine rays in the deep oceans of Earth, but flapping their fins, flying in the sky with deliberate purpose.

"Ark Rays," Nikki breathed. "I thought they were extinct."

"Apparently Skarn's been breeding them." Otis clasped his hands behind his back. "Maintain course. They're giant but slow, and can't reach our altitude."

But Xin caught what the others missed—the formation wasn't random. The creatures rose in patterns, their movement coordinated. A message spelled in flesh: We see you.

"Mama?" Håkon's voice went small. "Bad things coming?"

Xin watched Lorna wrestle with the answer. The truth versus comfort. She chose truth—she always did with Håkon.

"Maybe. But we're stronger." She lifted him back up. "We have each other."

Håkon considered this with the seriousness only a two-month-old with the mind of a five-year-old could manage, then returned to his drawing, adding black marks around his green trees. "We put trees after bad things go."

Xin's chest tightened again. This impossible child who called him Pappa, who drew hope on dying worlds.

"Xin," Lorna said quietly. "I need to talk to you. Privately."

The words sent heat through him, but this time he didn't fidget or look away. Three months ago, the Xin who'd sat in a Taipei prison cell would have stammered, pushed up his glasses, found excuses. But that green hoodie was gone, replaced by the crisp white of a SIMU field jacket that actually fit his shoulders properly. The quilted panels weren't just for show—integrated armor weave that could stop shrapnel, thermal regulation for extreme environments. Even his glasses—looking all the same on the outside—had been upgraded with tactical overlays, though he kept that function disabled most of the time.

He straightened, feeling the weight of Kuma the Kinetic SMG at his hip—somehow Emmanuel'd never asked to have it back after coming back. The jacket's high collar framed his neck differently, made him look older maybe, or just like someone who belonged here instead of stumbling through.

"Yeah, sure," he said, voice steady despite his accelerated pulse. No more the fumbling programmer who'd needed rescue. Now he was SIMU, her partner in more ways than one, someone who could stand beside her when they descended into whatever hell waited below.

Xin caught Emmanuel's knowing smirk, Nikki's carefully neutral expression. A month in close quarters—everyone knew. The midnight conversations, the way they gravitated together, the shared quarters that had started as necessity and become something else.

He and Lorna both stood up, making for the door.

"Aunt Nikki, take?" Håkon was already reaching for the doctor.

"Of course, sweetheart. We'll work on your drawing while Mama and Pappa talk, hmm?" Nikki took the little Diabolisk with gentleness. "Did you know 'Mars' starts with 'M'?"

"Mmmmm," Håkon demonstrated, mandibles clicking proudly.

Lorna squeezed his tiny tail—a goodbye gesture—and led Xin toward the corridor. Behind them, Diego was explaining why air was "squishy" with elaborate hand gestures.

The conference room two decks down activated as they entered. The door sealed, cutting off the ship's ambient hum. Xin's pulse accelerated, enhanced senses picking up Lorna's elevated heartbeat, the subtle change in her scent that meant—

She kissed him, cutting off rational thought. A month of careful distances in public, professional boundaries maintained. But here, now, with Mars waiting below and death probable, those rules evaporated.

When they broke apart, his glasses were fogged, warmth in his blood. "Lorna..."

"We might die down there." Matter-of-fact, like stating Mars was red. "Skarn's waiting. The Crystal wants to be whole. Everything's…converging. It'll be messy soon."

"Then we face it together." His hand found her waist, memorizing the feel. "Like we have been."

She leaned into the touch. A month of learning each other—how she hummed Norwegian lullabies when stressed, her obsessive equipment checks, the way she looked at Håkon when she thought no one was watching. The careful distance in public that vanished the moment they were alone.

The ship's low gravity made her movements fluid as she shifted closer, her beige trench coat parting. Beneath it, the familiar navy turtleneck hugged her differently now. Fuller. He'd noticed the change over the past two weeks—her breasts strained slightly against the fabric in a way they hadn't before.

"I see you looking at my boobs." Her voice carried amusement, not accusation. One hand caught the wall as they drifted slightly in the reduced gravity. "Past few days especially."

Heat flushed his face. "Yeah, I've been—it's—"

"It's okay, Xin." She pulled him closer, their bodies bumping gently in the artificial gravity. "But yeah, they're bigger now. Been breastfeeding our son."

The words hit him unexpectedly. He'd been with them constantly—shared quarters, meals, every waking moment—but never once had he seen... "You've been feeding Håkon?"

"Usually when you're in the shower or working late." Her fingers found his collar, anchoring them together as they floated. "Nikki says even though he's...what he is, the nutrition helps. But mostly it's connection. Showing him he belongs with us, not them."

"Does it hurt?" The question escaped before he could stop it. "His teeth..."

A soft laugh vibrated through where their chests touched. "He bit me once. Drew blood. Spent five minutes apologizing in that serious little voice of his." Her expression softened. "He's so careful now. Barely uses his mandibles."

The tenderness in her voice made his chest tight. This woman who could drop a handful of Bloodtroopers in a minute, describing their Radi-Mon son's gentle nursing.

"Why hide it from me, though?"

"Not hiding. Just..." She shrugged, the motion making them rotate slowly. "Private, I guess. Wasn't sure how you'd react to your girlfriend nursing a baby Diabolisk."

He caught her smile. "I think you're incredible. Both of you."

Her eyes—those enchanting blue depths—studied his face. In the low gravity, every small movement required contact, keeping them pressed together in the empty conference room.

"You know what I need, though?" Her voice dropped low.

"Tell me."

Instead of answering, her hands found the zipper of his field jacket. The metallic whisper seemed loud in the empty conference room. She worked it down slowly, revealing the gray thermal undershirt that clung to his slim upper body.

"New uniform suits you," she murmured, pushing the white jacket off his shoulders. It drifted behind him like a ghost. Her fingers traced the SIMU insignia on his chest, feeling his heartbeat accelerate beneath. "You're still too skinny, though. Don't know if I'll break you."

"Lorna, what are you…"

"Your turn." She spread her arms slightly, floating an inch off the deck. The motion made her ample breasts strain against the navy turtleneck, and his eyes tracked the movement instinctually. "The coat."