An hour later, Liam was elbow-deep inside the eastern compression housing of the Vanguard, trying very hard not to think about Arik.
He was failing beautifully.
The maintenance platform hummed faintly beneath his boots while white ether climbed through the relay spine overhead in clean, luminous streams. Around him, the lower engineering crews moved with the focused rhythm Lab V always carried during active diagnostics—measured voices, tool clicks, occasional swearing from the lower catwalks whenever someone encountered wiring designed by an idiot.
Normally, the sound calmed him.
Normally, the Vanguard made sense in a way people did not.
Today, every valve adjustment reminded him of Arik's hands.
Every pulse of ether reminded him of the bond.
Every time his body relaxed into the familiar heat of the machine, some traitorous instinct purred because somewhere above the city, Arik still existed.
Liam tightened a stabilizer lock with entirely unnecessary force.
