Page 30 of Nebula Hearts
But maybe that’s what this requires.
Not control. Trust.
Not walls. Connection.
I can still feel where her hand was on my shoulder. Can still hear her voice calling me back from the edge.
Stay with Aris.
Tomorrow we’ll try the repair again. And this time, I think I know what we need to do.
The question is whether I’m brave enough to actually do it.
I lie there in the darkness, listening to the ship’s systems, counting the hours until morning. The static doesn’t quiet. Doesn’t fade. Just keeps filling my head with white noise.
But underneath it, I hold onto one thing. One clear signal in all the chaos.
Her name.
Aris.
And the memory of her hand on my arm, steady and sure, guiding me home.
ARIS
Christmas Eve morning. Hours left. The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the regolith.
I check my datapad one more time. Colony power status: fifteen percent.
“We’re out of time,” I say.
We reach the relay with our equipment. “Then we’d better make this work.”
We didn’t sleep much last night. Both too wired. Too aware of what today means. The relay is repaired. The coupling installed.
All that’s left is the final activation sequence.
Channel power through the systems. Restore transmission to the colony.
Simple.
Except for the part where Tynrax has to work directly at the relay station. Within one kilometer of the ruins. Where the amplification field is strongest. Where he’ll almost certainly lose control without an anchor.
“New plan,” I say. “I stay closer this time. Not just touching your shoulder or arm. Actually close.”
“How close?”
“Arms around you while you work. Pressed against your back. Can feel your breathing. That close.” I adjust my equipment pack. “If the contact stabilizes you, more contact should work better. Right?”
“In theory.”
“You have a better theory?”
“No.” He picks up his toolkit. “Let’s go save five thousand lives.”
The walk to the relay takes forever and no time at all. My hands won’t stop shaking. Keep clenching and unclenching around the strap of my pack.
Tynrax notices. Doesn’t comment. Just moves closer so our arms brush with each step.
