Page 34 of Nebula Hearts
“It says the partial interlink is unstable,” I say, my voice tight. “That without completion, the empathic feedback can become erratic. It can magnify fear or pain instead of stabilizing it. We were lucky today.”
“And you go feral again.”
“Possibly.” I close the file. “We’re stranded here. No rescue coming for days minimum. If the partial bond fails before then, if I lose control again...”
“I could die. You could die.” She takes the datapad back. Sets it down. “But the colony is saved. That was the mission. We completed it.”
“The mission, yes. But we’re still here. Still dealing with the amplification field.” I look at her. I felt her exhaustion through the bond, a draining pull on my own energy. Her fear. Her determination. “Still connected by something we don’t fully understand.”
The medical bay suddenly feels smaller. More confined. My markings cast gold light across the walls. Across her face. I can feel her through the partial bond. Not just her emotions. Her presence. Like she’s standing beside me even though there’s a meter of space between us.
“We need to decide,” she says. “Complete the bond or hope the partial connection holds.”
“If we complete it, the connection becomes permanent. Irreversible.” I need her to understand this. Need her to truly comprehend what she’d be agreeing to. “You’ll feel everything I feel. I’ll feel everything you feel. No privacy. No barriers. For the rest of our lives.”
“I know.”
“You’ll be tied to a Zephyrian who goes feral when exposed to ancient technology. Who lost control and killed people. Who might lose control again despite the anchoring.”
“You’re also an engineer who just saved five thousand lives. A commander who came for me, risking himself to pull me from the trap. A person who fights every day to maintain control despite conditioning that should make it impossible.” She moves closer. “I see all of you, Tynrax. Not just the dangerous parts.”
The words settle into my chest. Warm. Certain. True.
Through the bond I can feel her conviction. Her conviction that this was right was strong enough to quiet my own fear.
But I need to hear her say it. Need to know she’s choosing this with full awareness of what it means.
“Do you want this?” I ask. “Not just to keep me stable. Not just to complete the mission. Do you want me?”
She closes the remaining distance between us. Looks up at me. Her dark brown eyes steady. Certain.
“I want you. I’ve wanted you since you started explaining mathematical patterns in flower petals and making terrible dad jokes about geological formations. But only if you’re sure.”
Everything in me jolts, a reaction to something I’ve held in check for years. Decades. My entire life.
Want. Need. Connection.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I say. The words come out quieter than intended. More honest. “I choose you. I choose this.”
Her hand comes up. Touches my chest. Right over where my heart beats too fast. “The bond is permanent. You’ll be tied to me forever. That goes both ways.”
“Yes. It does.” I cover her hand with mine. “I understand the implications.”
“Do you?” She searches my face. “Your people abandoned this practice. Called it dangerous. Destructive. You’ll be going against everything your culture has believed for three thousand years.”
I remember my instructors, their voices flat and certain as they taught us to sever, to isolate, to control. They called it strength. But it wasn’t strength that saved us today. It was this.
“My culture was wrong.” The certainty surprises me. But it was true. The bond resonated with the certainty of it. “The Suppression didn’t make us stronger. It made us brittle. Unable to bend without breaking. You’ve shown me that. Taught me that connection doesn’t weaken. It anchors.”
She smiles. Small but genuine. “You’re going to make me cry and I refuse to cry right now.”
“Don’t cry.” I brush my thumb across her knuckles. “We have more important things to do.”
“Like completing an ancient bonding ritual neither of us fully understands?”
“Exactly like that.”
She laughs. The sound slightly unsteady but real. I can feel her nervousness through the bond. Her anticipation. Her absolute certainty that this is right despite the fear.
