The storm outside the hull had a rhythm of its own.
A low, rolling vibration.
Almost like breathing.
Kael sat alone in the cockpit, gloved fingers tapping quietly against the metal arm of the pilot's chair. The navigation screens flickered in the dark, glitching in and out as the cosmic interference worsened. He didn't bother fixing them. His mind was too loud, too full, too restless.
He had barely slept since leaving Vega Outpost.
Not because he was afraid.
Because the memory of the Inquisitors' attack replayed itself every time he closed his eyes.
He heard Lira's scream.
Saw the explosion.
Felt the fire lick across his armor as he pulled her out.
And he hated the weakness of remembering.
Kael exhaled sharply and forced the thought away.
The cockpit door slid open with a soft hydraulic hiss.
Lira stepped inside.
Her boots were quiet, but Kael sensed every movement she made. She carried a data pad pressed to her chest, her dark hair tied loosely, a strand falling across her cheek.
"You're awake," she said gently.
"I don't sleep much."
"I know."
Her voice dipped slightly. "You should try."
Kael didn't answer.
He kept his eyes on the forward viewport, watching the swirl of dark nebula clouds drift around them like shadows with teeth.
Lira took a slow step closer.
"You've been avoiding me," she said.
Kael's jaw tightened.
"I've been flying the ship."
"That's not what I meant."
Silence stretched between them.
Heavy.
Thick.
Suffocating in a way Kael wasn't used to feeling.
He wasn't afraid of enemies.
He wasn't afraid of death.
But the way Lira looked at him like she could see past the armor, past the man he pretended to be that frightened him more than he could admit.
She finally spoke again.
"Why did you push me away after the outpost? You barely said a word. You acted like nothing happened."
"Because nothing should have happened."
"And what exactly happened, Kael?"
He felt it.
That thin thread inside him pulling tighter.
The one he kept trying to cut.
He stood from the pilot's seat, forcing himself to keep his voice cold.
"You were almost killed. Because of me. Because I stayed. Because I hesitated."
Lira frowned, stepping forward.
"You saved my life."
"I shouldn't have needed to. You wouldn't have been in danger if I hadn't dragged you into this."
"You didn't drag me into anything."
Kael looked at her then.
Really looked.
She believed that.
But she didn't understand the truth the truth that haunted him like a shadow stitched to his spine.
"You don't know what I am," he said quietly.
Lira didn't move.
"Then tell me."
The lights above them flickered as a crackle of cosmic static ran through the ship. The shadows deepened, stretching across Kael's arms like dark veins.
"I am not human, Lira."
"I already know that."
"No."
His voice darkened.
"You know the surface. Not the core. Not what Nexus built into me. Not what they expect me to become."
Lira's breath slowed, but her eyes didn't look away.
She stepped closer without fear, and Kael felt his pulse spike a reaction he hated, a reaction that made him aware of every inch between them.
"Then tell me what they expect," she whispered.
Kael turned his back to her.
"A weapon."
Lira's eyebrows pulled tight.
"They already treated you like one."
"You don't understand."
His hands curled into fists.
"I'm not just a weapon they use. I'm one that can't be deactivated. One that gets stronger the more danger I'm in. One that adapts. One that evolves. And when I lose control"
His voice cut off.
Lira waited.
"When I lose control," he said finally, "things die."
The hum of the ship filled the silence.
Lira's steps were soft as she approached him from behind.
"Kael."
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
"Look at me."
He didn't want to.
If he did, he might break.
He might say everything he had spent years burying.
But his body obeyed her voice.
It always did.
He turned.
Lira reached up, fingertips brushing the cold edge of his jaw.
"You think I'm afraid of you," she said.
"You should be."
"I'm not."
"Then you're a fool."
She smiled faintly.
"Or maybe you're the one who's wrong."
Something inside him twisted.
Lira's touch drifted from his jaw to the collar of his suit, her fingers gripping the fabric gently.
"You say you're dangerous. That you're something to fear."
She stepped closer, looking into him.
"But when the outpost exploded, you didn't think about your programming. You didn't think about Nexus. You didn't think about being a weapon."
Her voice softened.
"You thought about me."
The nebula storm outside rumbled, a deep vibration that shook the cockpit windows.
But Kael barely noticed.
He could only hear her heartbeat.
Steady.
Warm.
Human.
Something he was never meant to have.
He stepped back abruptly.
"This is why I avoid you," he said coldly.
"Because you start thinking I'm something I'm not."
"And what's that?"
Kael's voice was low.
"Good."
"You are good."
"No."
He shook his head.
"No, Lira. I'm not. Nexus created me to kill. To track. To survive. There is no goodness in that."
"Then why are you fighting them?"
"Because freedom isn't goodness. It's instinct."
Lira looked at him with something he didn't know how to face.
Something that made the metal walls feel too close and the air too thin.
"Kael," she whispered, "you saved me because you care."
"I can't afford to care."
"Why?"
"Because caring gets people killed."
Her breath caught.
"Not me."
"You don't know that."
A long silence followed.
Lira lowered her hand, stepping back with hurt flickering in her eyes.
And Kael hated himself for it.
The ship suddenly jolted a violent shake that threw Lira off balance. Kael caught her instinctively, one arm around her waist, pulling her tight against his chest.
The alarms blared red.
He stared down at her, breath heavy, heart crushing itself inside his ribs.
The danger was real.
Immediate.
Close.
And Kael knew exactly what he feared more.
Not the threat outside the ship.
But the one inside him.
He let her go slowly.
"Strap in," he said quietly.
"We're entering the dark zone."
Lira searched his eyes, wanting to say something maybe wanting him to stay, or explain, or just feel.
But he turned away first.
Because distance was the only thing keeping her alive.