Page 31 of Nebula Hearts
The relay station sits silent. Waiting. Beyond it, the fissure of the ruins cut into the cliff. I can see Tynrax’s markings brightening already. The amplification field is a low hum in the air, and he’s only holding steady because my hand is a firm, grounding pressure on his arm.
“You ready for this?” I ask.
“No. But we’re doing it anyway.”
He sets up at the control panel. My brain screams that this is unprofessional, that it crosses a line we can’t uncross. But my body moves anyway, acting on an instinct deeper than protocol. I position myself behind him. Wrap my arms around his waist. Press my chest against his back. Can feel his heartbeat through the layers of clothing. Fast but steady.
“Comfortable?” he asks.
“Comfortable enough. You?”
“I’ll manage.” His hands move to the control interface. “Starting the initialization sequence now.”
The relay hums to life. Energy flows through the systems we repaired. The sound builds. Low frequency that I can feel in my bones.
Tynrax’s markings brighten further. Violet light visible even in the afternoon sun.
“Talk to me,” I say. “Tell me what you’re doing.”
“Initializing primary systems. Checking power flow integrity.” His voice stays level. Controlled. “Bringing secondary systems online. Establishing connection to the transmission array.”
“You’re doing great. Keep going.”
His breathing changes. Faster. Shallower. The markings brighten more. Gold bleeding into violet at his temples.
I tighten my arms around him. “Stay with me. Focus on my voice. You’re here with me.”
“Primary systems online. Secondary systems responding. Beginning power integration sequence.”
The hum intensifies. The relay structure vibrates. Energy building toward the transmission threshold.
“Connect the blue conduit next,” I say. Narrating what I see on the display. Keeping him focused. “That’s it. Perfect. Now the green one.”
Thirty minutes pass. Then an hour. The work continues. My arms ache from holding him. Don’t care. His markings stay bright but controlled. Gold dominant. This is working.
“Almost there,” Tynrax says. “Just need to initialize the final power coupling. Then we activate transmission.”
“How long?”
“Ten minutes. Maybe less.”
His hands move across the interface. Fast. Certain. This is what he does. What he’s good at. Engineering problems with clear solutions.
The relay responds. Systems integrating. Power building toward critical threshold.
Then something goes wrong.
The hum spikes. Sharp. Wrong. The relay structure shudders. Alarms blare from the control panel.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“Power surge. The coupling is overloading.” His hands fly across the controls. “I need to reroute the energy flow before it destroys the entire system.”
His markings flare brighter. White-hot. The amplification field responding to the energy surge. Feeding off it. I feel a tremor run through him, a low hum vibrating from his bones into my own. A sharp hiss escapes his teeth, as if the light itself is burning him from the inside out.
“Tynrax, you’re going pure white.”
“I know. I can feel it.” His voice comes out strained. “Just need another minute.”
