Page 21 of Deserted

I upgraded the security protocols, rerouted the shielding nodes, and triple-checked the perimeter defense mesh. To the casual observer, I appeared focused, efficient, controlled. Inside, I was calculating fourteen different scenarios for evacuation, twelve of which ended with me carrying Jas through a Swarm-infested desert while she complained about my communication skills.

I looked like a male seconds from murder—or mating. Or both.

Perfectly calm.

Absolutely not imagining her soft little human body draped over my bunk again, whispering in her husky voice that she trusted me. That she wanted me.

I grunted and scrubbed a hand down my face. This was ridiculous. I was a Legion Reaper, one of the most elite soldiers in the known galaxy. I’d faced down hive queens and come back with nothing but a scratch. I’d infiltrated hostile territories with nothing but my claws and my wits. I should not be this affected by one small human female with a penchant for asking questions I couldn’t answer.

And yet.

She would not get marked by the Swarm. Not on my watch. I would burn the desert to glass before I let that happen.

I input the final security override, then moved to the communications array. The damage from the storm was extensive, but not irreparable. I could bypass the main circuits, reroute through the secondary relay, and establish a narrow-band transmission. Enough to alert Command to our situation. Enough to request immediate extraction.

My fingers moved swiftly over the controls, bypassing damaged sectors and implementing field repairs that weren’t exactly regulation but would serve our immediate needs. All the while, my senses remained attuned to Jas—her heartbeat, her breathing, the subtle shifts in her scent that telegraphed her emotional state more clearly than any words.

She was angry. Frustrated. But beneath that, there was fear. Not of me—never of me, which was both gratifying and infuriating given the circumstances—but of the unknown. Of the situation she found herself in. A situation I had failed to adequately explain.

Because how could I? How could I tell her that she’d stumbled through a portal onto a quarantine world, awakened dormant tech that now seemed fixated on her unique biosignature, and, oh yes, also happened to be my cosmic soulmate according to ancient Rodinian tradition? That we were bound by fate through dreams that would only grow more intense, more real, until we either completed the bond or rejected it entirely?

She might not understand yet what she was to me. Might not be ready to hear words like kassari or lifebond or please stop doing sexy things with your voice when you’re mad at me, but that didn’t matter.

She was mine.

And I protected what was mine.

Even if that meant shielding her from the truth… and from herself.

The communication array sparked, then hummed to life. A small victory. I programmed a distress signal, embedding our coordinates and a priority-one extraction request. The message would transmit on a secure Legion frequency, bouncing betweenrelay stations until it reached Command. Response time would depend on available resources and proximity of extraction teams.

Hours, at minimum. More likely a full rotation. Time we might not have, given the increasing activity beneath the dunes.

I turned back to the monitoring station, checking the perimeter sensors again. The activity had intensified—multiple signals now, converging from different directions. The Swarm was coordinating, communicating through whatever network still existed beneath the surface. Planning. My jaw tightened. We needed to move. The bunker’s defenses were formidable, but not designed to withstand a concentrated Swarm assault.

I gathered essential supplies—emergency rations, water purifiers, medical kit, weapons. Only the necessities. Anything that would slow us down stayed behind. My mind ran through escape routes, calculating risks and variables with cold efficiency. The old mining tunnels to the east offered the best chance—their reinforced walls might shield us from the Swarm’s sensors long enough to reach the secondary extraction point.

From there, if the communications array had successfully transmitted our distress signal, a Legion shuttle could retrieve us. If not... well, I had contingencies for that too. None particularly pleasant, but survival rarely was.

I checked my weapons—plasma rifle charged and ready, sidearm secured, combat blades sharpened to molecular precision. The weight of them was reassuring, grounding. Whatever came for us, I would be ready.

A sound at the door drew my attention—the soft pad of bare feet on metal. Jas. My body reacted instantly to her proximity, muscles tensing, senses sharpening. I inhaled deeply, taking in her scent—citrus and spice, underlaid with the sharp tang of adrenaline.

She’d been avoiding me, yes, but not idly. She’d been busy. I could smell the distinctive ozone trace of the monitoring station’s interfaces on her skin. She’d been accessing the systems.

Clever, resourceful human. Of course she had.

Which meant she knew. Not everything, perhaps, but enough. Enough to be angry. Enough to demand answers I wasn’t sure how to give.

I sighed, bracing myself for the confrontation that was about to happen. For the accusations of deception, the demands for truth, the righteous anger that would flash in those dark eyes. All justified. All deserved. And all spectacularly ill-timed given the mechanical death currently tunneling toward us through the sand.

But I would tell her. Everything. The Swarm. The danger. Our bond. I’d lay it all bare—once I got her to safety. Once I knew she could hear the truth without the immediate threat of death or assimilation looming over her head. Once I could be sure she was choosing with clear eyes and a clear mind, not out of fear or necessity.

At least that’s what I told myself as I heard her approach. That I was waiting for the right moment. The safe moment. That I wasn’t simply a coward afraid of rejection from the one being in the universe fate had chosen for me.

She might not forgive me for the deception. She might laugh in my face at the very concept of fate mates and cosmic bonds. She might walk away once we returned to her world, never looking back, leaving me to an eternity of knowing what I’d found and lost.

But she would be alive to make that choice. And that was what mattered.

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