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

Mars Standard Time: 08:08, May 11, 2295 (Earth Day Equivalent)

SIMU Director's Conference Room, Ironsides VII, Terra Alliance Aegis battlecruiser approaching Mars

The conference room door hissed open. Lorna paused at the threshold, tugging at her deep navy turtleneck. The fabric clung where it shouldn't, carrying traces of the past hour—lavender perfume mingled with lingering sweat, masculine saliva, feminine piss, and something fishy. Her military pants sat low on her hips, the beige trench coat draped over her arm concealing the familiar weight of Baldr and Váli in their respective pockets.

She could have showered. Should have, probably. Yet something had kept her from washing away the evidence of her morning with Xin. Pride? Defiance? She couldn't say.

The conference room stretched before her, its grand tactical window framing Mars's rust-colored peaks and ancient impact craters. Director Otis sat at the far end of the oval table, his silver shaved beard and pristine white coat a stark contrast to the dimmed lighting. The Aegis battlecruiser ran on minimal power—conserving energy while avoiding Fenris patrols that might lurk in the Martian void.

"We're lowering power usage and keeping emissions low," Diego explained from his position near the table's edge, fingers dancing across his quantum laptop. "No sense advertising our position to every Radi-Mon pack between here and Olympus Mons."

"Sorry I'm late." Lorna said as she paced towards the table.

"A senior Psi Lynx you may be, punctuality is still a virtue, Lorna." Otis said. Lorna caught the slight edge in his tone as she hung her coat on the wall-mounted rack.

"Won't happen next time." She slid into a chair along the table's long side, noting the spread before them—scrambled eggs glistening with butter, strips of bacon arranged with military precision, sourdough toast, and ceramic mugs of black coffee that sent wisps of steam into the recycled air.

Emmanuel set down his Americano, his shoulder-length locs shifting as the environmental systems kicked up. His nostrils flared slightly. "Hit the gym this morning?"

Shit. Of course he'd notice. He had been one of her sexual partners before the Fenris virus, after all.

"Yeah...just wrapped up." Lorna said it extra loudly. The lie came easy. Too easy.

"Funny." Emmanuel's dark brown eyes held hers. "I was there too. Didn't see you at the weight stations."

"Tried Pilates today. Needed to stretch." She grabbed a fork, avoiding his knowing look.

"Right." His lips quirked as he turned toward the viewport, but not before she caught his expression—understanding, amusement, and something else.

Across the table, Xin fidgeted with his SIMU-issued puffer jacket, the fabric rustling with each nervous movement. Their eyes met for a heartbeat before he focused intently on his scrambled eggs. "Good spread. Is, uh—is Håkon joining us? He'd love these for sure."

"The little guy's with Doctor Nikki," Diego replied, glancing up from the screen of his fusion-powered laptop. "Helping sort medical supplies. Important work for small hands, no? He's already had breakfast. The eggs made him happy, as usual."

"Nice. Safe work. That's what matters." Xin's shoulders relaxed fractionally.

"Nothing's safe here." Thomas didn't look up from methodically sectioning his bacon. "Mars is consistently ranked the worst planet to live outside Earth since '84. It kills the careless. Remember that."

"Noted." Xin's voice dropped.

That's when Lorna caught it—her scent clinging to Xin. The same lavender-and-musk combination that marked her own clothes. Traces of her pheromones on him. He hadn't showered either. The realization sent heat crawling up her cheeks.

Blue light flickered at the table's far end. President Harrison Polk materialized first, his hologram rendering in perfect detail—the crisp lines of his teal suit, hands steepled before him. Beside Otis, Dante Pompeo's broader form resolved, cigar already in hand.

"Director Otis. I see you've reached Martian orbit safely." Harrison's gaze swept the assembled team. "A month's journey from Olathe. How's morale?"

"Ready for action, Mr. President." Thomas set down his fork with military precision.

"Ready." Xin echoed, reaching for his spoon with deliberate care.

"Always." Emmanuel lifted his coffee in mock salute.

"Good. Though we seem to be missing someone." Otis turned to Lorna, displeasure evident. "Your father was specifically requested for this briefing."

"Haven't seen him." The words came out sharper than intended. "Sir." She added awkwardly.

Otis's sigh carried the weight of long-suffering patience. "Diego, contact Harald Omdal's quarters. Mark it urgent."

"Initiating now." Diego's fingers flew across his keyboard.

"Why do we need some R&D consultant in a tactical briefing?" Dante's hologram gestured with his cigar, smoke curling into digital nothing. "The old Nordling works on those Nucleus Suits, not strategy."

"Integration, Delegate Pompeo. We need him integrated into our command structure." Otis raised a placating hand.

Lorna leaned forward, cutting through the brewing argument. "So, what's our situation planetside? What are the drones telling us?"

Diego pulled up his data streams, holographic displays blooming above the table. "Olympus Mons and the western hemisphere—all Fenris territory. Every human settlement from the early 2200s is either harvested or dark. No communications for over a decade."

Lorna surpressed a smile. Diego had always held back his Spanish words during serious meetings like this one. It often felt like there were two people in him.

The tactical display shifted, showing the massive volcanic peaks now crawling with organic structures. Lorna stabbed her scrambled eggs with sudden ferocity, fork scraping ceramic as Diego continued.

"Hellas Basin on the southern hemisphere's different. Xing Hong still stands—largest human city on Mars, completely untouched." His brow furrowed. "Which makes little sense. It's a neutral city. No major military presence. No serious defenses. Should've been overrun years ago."

Across from her, Xin dissected his breakfast with precision, each bite carefully considered. The contrast wasn't lost on her: since joining SIMU, she'd learned to eat fast, devouring more than eating, while he still savored food like a civilian. She missed having the luxury to do that.

"A few smaller Radi-Mon hives on Eastern Xanthe Terra shows violet signatures. That's Rakshasa territory. The rest scan brown—definitely Fenris." Diego manipulated the display, highlighting the hive clusters. "As for the Moondust Crystal's main body, we're getting signals between Olympus and Xanthe. Weaker than expected. Either it's shielded or..."

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"Or Skarn can't figure out how to use it." Lorna finished, bacon disappearing between her lips.

"Planum Boreum on the planet's north pole is a complete blank. Something's blocking our scans—"

"Because the Jokull nest there." Harald's voice cut through the briefing like a blade through silk.

Every head turned. Lorna's father stood in the doorway, silver beard unkempt, yesterday's clothes—white lab coat with blue shirt underneath—wrinkled. Dark circles shadowed his eyes.

"I taught them well. Always claim the poles first! Better defensive positions."

"Mr. Omdal." Otis's tone could have frozen helium. "May I remind you thta these briefings require punctuality."

"I was working on your bastardized Nucleus Suits until three in the morning." Harald dropped into the chair beside Lorna, then recoiled. "By Thor, Sigrún. When did you last bathe?"

"I was—training!" She focused on Otis, heat rising in her cheeks. "Why is he here?"

"Because Mayor Montero of Xing Hong will be joining us momentarily. Full team presence is required."

The name sparked something in Lorna's memory. Mars had always seemed distant, irrelevant to her Earth-bound missions. Since joining SIMU, since abandoning dreams of Europa, she'd paid little attention to off-world politics. But Xing Hong...the last free city on a dying planet. And the surname Montero…she used to know someone in that house.

"Well?" Dante's hologram boomed. "Get on with it already!"

"Diego?" Otis nodded.

"Aye. Dialing the hotline. We're now connecting with—" Diego's fingers danced. The air shimmered. "Mayor Millaray Montero of Xing Hong."

She materialized like smoke given form. Mayor Millaray Montero stood at the table's far end, her presence somehow filling more space than her slender body would. The black fabric of her dress absorbed light, making her snowy skin glow in contrast. Ornate jewelry caught the conference room's tactical displays—something that resembled a golden scarab at her throat, matching earrings that swayed with each subtle movement. Her lips, painted deep burgundy, curved in something that wasn't quite a smile.

But it was her eyes that held Lorna. Vivid green, unnatural in their intensity, they swept the room before locking onto her. Recognition? Assessment? The gaze lingered too long, carrying weight Lorna couldn't decipher.

The mayor's dress plunged dramatically, the neckline's golden edges drawing attention to the slopes of her partially exposed chest—just enough flesh to show off her cleavage while wrapping the rest of her breasts protectively. Yet this Novian woman wore it like armor, sexuality weaponized into authority. Her dark hair swept up in an elaborate bun that belonged in a palace, not a war briefing.

What struck Lorna most was the mayor's stemmed wine glass—crystal filled with something yellow and viscous, white strands swirling through it like captured clouds. Millaray held it wrong, palm cupping the bowl instead of gripping the stem. Either she didn't know proper etiquette—unlikely, given her bearing—or she wanted her body heat affecting whatever liquid filled that glass.

Memory clicked. Lund University. Eleven years ago. An older exchange student from the Emerald Directorate, beautiful and desperate, trailing after Sven Solheim like a shadow. Back when Sven was still human.

Before Skarn.

"President Polk." Millaray's even mezzo-soprano voice flowed like aged whiskey over ice. "Our correspondence has been...illuminating."

"Mayor Montero. It's a pleasure." Harrison's caution bled through the hologram. "You've known Director Otis, myself and Dante. Here we have our team in full assemble: Adjatant Diego, Lieutenant Thomas Mendoza, Specialist Zhi-Xin Wu, Lieutenant Emmanuel Boateng, 1st Lieutenant Lorna Weiss and—Mister Harald Omdal.

"Gentlemen. Lady." That green gaze found Lorna again. "I bring news. Your battlecruiser, Ironsides VII, has clearance for Xing Hong's docks. However..." She paced, the movement predatory despite her elegant bearing. "Complications have arisen."

"Explain." Otis leaned forward.

"The Directorate vessel known as the Isazi also requests sanctuary. As a neutral party, I must accommodate both." She sipped her strange wine. "I trust you'll keep your conflicts beyond my city's borders. Inside, you're guests. Outside..." A delicate shrug. "The Radi-Mons are less hospitable."

Lorna watched her father Harald straighten, interest sparking in his stormy blue eyes as Millaray moved. The mayor noticed, her lips curving slightly.

"Neutral. Hmph!" Dante spat the word like profanity. "Mars burns, this Fenris Horde threatens to eat us all for breakfast and you play politics? Pick a side, woman."

"The side of survival, Delegate Pompeo." Millaray's tone never wavered. "My city endures because I don't choose."

"We're not asking for favoritism." Lorna found herself speaking, earning a surprised look from Dante. "But information. How does Xing Hong survive? Every other settlement fell years ago."

Those green eyes fixed on her. Cold. Calculating. "Sigrun Fjeld."

The name hit like ice water. Lorna's fingers tightened on her fork.

"I'm sorry?" She kept her voice level. Millaray remembered. Of course she'd remember. After all, Sigrun Fjeld the beautiful and talented Nordling girl was whom Sven pursued, not Millaray the exchange student whose kindness Sven had rarely returned.

"Nothing. You reminded me of someone." Millaray turned away, but not before Lorna caught something in her expression. "Xing Hong survives through careful negotiation and useful neutrality. We provide services. We ask no questions. We endure."

"Services, yeah?" Xin spoke up, setting down his fork. "What kind of services keep Radi-Mons from overrunning a nearly defenseless city?"

"The kind that ensure mutual benefit." Millaray's response was silk wrapped around steel. "For other human factions, we facilitate trade. Provide medical care. Maintain communication networks. We understand that surviving on a planet that monsters call home requires proper infrastructure."

Words that said everything and nothing. Lorna recognized the technique—she'd used it herself during interrogations. Millaray had always skilled in public speaking, always picked as the person to deliver their semester finals on the stage.

She was always disturbingly good at remembering names and faces.

"You're evading our questions." The accusation slipped out before she could stop it. "We're asking how you managed to survive—"

"Radi-Mons. Rest assured, you will find none of those within Xing Hong's borders. But for my people's safety, secrets must be kept." Millaray's interruption cracked like a whip. "Judge me from your armored battlecruiser, Agent Weiss. I keep eight million souls alive on a hostile world. What compromises would you make in my position?"

Harald chuckled. "Pragmatism. I like her."

Lorna shot him a warning look. Her father's appreciation was already too evident, his gaze tracking Millaray's movements with unseemly interest.

"Mayor Montero, we do need more than platitudes to ensure long-term collaboration," Otis interjected. "Concrete intelligence. Defensive positions. Hive locations. Supply routes, if you have any."

"Beyond my city's tolerance, all can be negotiated. But, information has a price." Millaray swirled her wine. "What do you offer?"

"Protection." Harrison's hologram leaned forward. "Alliance resources. Military support. Surely you'd appreciate the power to prevent a total Radi-Mon invasion?"

"The protection of those who'll abandon Mars once they have what they came for?" Her laugh was crystalline, sharp. "I think not."

The room's tension ratcheted higher. Lorna watched her father lean toward Millaray, noticed how the mayor's posture shifted subtly in response. The dance of attraction played out, age gap be damned.

"Then what do you want?" She cut through the subtext.

Millaray's attention returned to her. "Assurance. That when you've claimed your Crystal fragments and fled back to Earth, Xing Hong remains standing. Can you promise that, Sig—Agent Weiss?"

The near slip with her name again. Deliberate? A power play? Lorna couldn't tell.

Before she could respond, the room's lighting shifted to amber. Diego's hands flew across his controls.

"Proximity alert. There's an Ark Ray approaching, bearing two-seven-mark-four. Fenris signatures, but also..." His face paled. "Jokull?"

"Again." Harald stood sharply. "They always cooperate, even here."

"Well, we have what I'd call a kilometer-long bioship closing on our position." Diego pulled up the tactical display. The creature filling their screens defied classification—part whale, part nightmare, bristling with dark brown organic flesh.

"Time to collision?" Otis's calm never wavered.

"Twelve minutes at current velocity."

"Then this briefing is concluded." Otis stood. "Diego, notify all combat personnel to battle stations. President Polk, Delegate Pompeo—we'll update you post-engagement."

The holograms winked out. Millaray's image lingered.

"How interesting. The wars come to you already." She raised her glass in mock toast. "Do try not to die before reaching my city. It would be most inconvenient."

Her hologram dissolved, leaving the bitter taste of her amusement.

Lorna grabbed her trench coat, fingers finding Baldr's familiar weight. "Ready?"

Xin pushed back from the table, jaw set. "Ready."

Around them, the Ironsides VII shuddered to life. The hunt had begun.