Page 33 of Nebula Hearts
Perfect synchronization. Not because we planned it. Because we can feel each other. Know what the other needs before they ask.
The partial bond. Whatever that kiss triggered. It’s anchoring him completely now.
Twenty minutes later, the power surge is contained. Rerouted. The relay stabilizes. Energy flows smoothly through all systems.
“Ready for final activation,” Tynrax says.
“Do it.”
TYNRAX
Iinitiate the sequence.
The relay hums. Low at first. Building. The sound climbs through frequencies until it settles into a steady thrum that vibrates through the structure beneath my hands.
Power transmission restored.
The display screen shows green across every system. Energy flowing smoothly through the coupling we installed. Through the conduits we integrated. Through pathways that should be restoring the power feed to the Prospect’s End colony.
Should.
“Pull up colony status,” I say.
Aris has her datapad out before I finish speaking. The partial bond makes everything faster. I know she’s checking before she moves. She knows I need confirmation before I speak.
The numbers populate on her screen. I can see them from here. Power status: fifteen percent. Then sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Twenty.
“It’s working,” Aris says. Her voice comes out shaky. Exhausted. “The relay is channeling energy. The colony is saved.”
I stare at the readout. Green lights. Rising power levels. Five thousand lives no longer counting down toward death.
We did it.
The thought surfaces slowly. Carefully. Like I’m afraid believing it might make it untrue.
Then Aris is laughing. Grabbing my arm. “We did it! Tynrax, we actually did it!”
I don’t respond right away, just stare at the green lights on the console. My hands, resting on the panel, are trembling. A wave of sheer, bone-deep disbelief washes through me, so profound it almost knocks me off my feet.
“We did,” I agree, my voice quiet.
She pulls me away from the control panel. “Come on. Let’s get back to the ship before I collapse right here.”
Inside the ship, Aris heads straight for the medical bay. I follow. Watch her pull up files on her datapad. Her hands shake so badly she nearly drops it twice.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“Confirmation.” She bypasses the standard medical database, digging into the restricted historical archives—the ones my parents probably consulted.
She finds a fragmented file, flagged for deletion. Starts reading. “Symptoms of partial bonding. Heightened awareness. Physical pull. Emotional resonance. Synchronization of thought patterns.”
She shows me the screen. Lists of symptoms that match exactly what’s been happening between us since she kissed me at the relay.
“That’s us,” she says. “When I kissed you, we started the bond.”
I take the datapad from her. Read through the document properly. The language is archaic. Pre-Suppression terminology that doesn’t translate cleanly. But the meaning is clear enough.
Partial bonding. Incomplete connection. Unstable.
