Theo's POV-
I forced my attention back to the communicator. Focus. This was something I could control, something that made sense. Unlike whatever the hell had happened underwater.
The damage was extensive but not catastrophic. I'd seen worse in the field. The cracked screen was cosmetic—annoying, but it wouldn't affect functionality as long as the display circuit beneath was intact. The dented corner had compressed the casing, putting pressure on the internal components. That would need careful prying to relieve the stress without snapping anything.
I started with the power cell. It was completely dead, corroded by salt water that had seeped through the seal. I pulled a replacement from my storage space—standard military issue, compatible with most communication devices. The old cell came out easily enough once I'd removed the back panel.
"Hand me the diagnostic scanner," I said without looking up.
Nyx placed it in my palm before I'd finished speaking. She'd been watching me work for the past hour, learning the names of tools, anticipating what I'd need next. It was... helpful. Efficient. I didn't want to think about how comfortable it felt to work in companionable silence with her.
The scanner showed water damage in three circuits: power distribution, signal processing, and display. The power distribution was the priority—without that, nothing else mattered. I carefully removed the circuit board and examined it under the fading afternoon light.
Corrosion had eaten away at two connection points. I'd need to clean them, re-solder the connections, and hope the pathways themselves weren't compromised. Delicate work. The kind that required steady hands and complete focus.
Perfect.
I activated the soldering iron, powered by a small spiritual energy cell. The tip glowed red-hot within seconds. I cleaned the corroded points with a wire brush, then carefully applied new solder to bridge the gaps. The smell of hot metal filled the shelter.
The baby stirred in his sleep, making a small sound of protest. Nyx immediately shifted, adjusting him against her shoulder and humming softly. He settled again without fully waking.
I tried not to notice how natural she looked doing that. How the golden light of late afternoon caught in her hair. How her fingers were gentle against the baby's back.
Focus.
The power circuit was done. I moved on to the signal processor. This one was trickier—the water had gotten into the chip housing itself. I'd have to open it, clean it, and pray the chip wasn't fried. If it was, the communicator was useless. We'd be stuck here until someone happened to fly overhead, which on a remote island near a border planet could take weeks. Months.
My hands were steady as I pried open the housing. Inside, the chip gleamed wetly. I used compressed air from a small canister to blow out the moisture, then carefully swabbed the contacts with a cleaning solution. The chip itself looked intact—no visible cracks or burns.
Good. That was good.
I reassembled the housing and moved to the display circuit. This was the one I was most worried about. The cracked screen suggested impact damage, and impact damage to a display circuit usually meant—
"Theo."
Nyx's voice was soft, hesitant. I didn't look up.
"Mm."
"About earlier. In the water. When we—"
"The air exchange was effective," I said, my tone flat and final. "Good thinking on your part. Saved time."
Silence. I could feel her looking at me. I kept my eyes on the circuit board, tracing the pathways with the diagnostic scanner.
"Right," she said after a long moment. "Air exchange. That's... that's all it was."
"Obviously."
"Obviously," she echoed.
I glanced up then, just for a second. Our eyes met. Hers were searching, uncertain, maybe a little hurt. Mine were carefully blank. We looked at each other for three heartbeats, and in that moment, we both understood: we would never speak of this again. It was functional. Necessary. Nothing more.
She looked away first. "I'll check on the fire."
"Good idea."
She left the shelter, taking the baby with her. I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and returned to the display circuit.
The impact had cracked one of the connection traces—a hairline fracture that would cause the display to flicker or fail entirely. I couldn't replace the trace, but I could bridge it with a wire bypass. It wouldn't be pretty, and the screen would always have that crack running through it, but it would work.
I worked in silence for another two hours. The sun set, and Nyx built up the fire outside, casting flickering orange light into the shelter. She didn't come back in. I didn't call for her.
Finally, I had everything reassembled. The communicator sat in my palm, looking battered and jury-rigged but complete. I inserted the new power cell and held my breath.
The power button clicked under my thumb.
For three seconds, nothing happened. Then the screen flickered to life, the crack running through the display like a lightning bolt. The boot sequence initiated: military encryption protocols loading, signal searching, systems check running.
All green.
I let out a breath. It worked. We had communication.
"Nyx," I called.
She appeared in the makeshift doorway immediately, the baby asleep against her shoulder. "You fixed it?"
"I fixed it." I held up the device. "It's not pretty, but it's functional. I'm going to contact James."
She nodded and came to sit beside me, careful not to jostle the baby. I was acutely aware of her proximity, the warmth of her body in the cooling evening air. I ignored it and focused on the communicator.
I entered James's encrypted channel code from memory. Military protocol—we all had each other's emergency frequencies memorized. The communicator beeped as it searched for the signal, bouncing through relay satellites across the empire.
Static crackled. Then more static. Then—
"—nidentified signal on encrypted channel seven-seven-four. Identify yourself or this transmission will be terminated and traced."
James's voice. Professional, cautious. He didn't know who was calling.
"James, it's Theo."
Silence. Long enough that I thought the connection had dropped.
Then: "Bullshit."
"It's me."
"Bullshit," James repeated, his voice rising. "Theo's dead. His ship went down three weeks ago. We searched for five days and found nothing but debris. So whoever the hell this is, you've got ten seconds to—"
"Three weeks ago, you insisted on that ridiculous group photo after the Outer Rim victory," I said calmly. "You said it was for morale. I said it was a waste of time. You did it anyway and put your arm around my shoulder like we were academy cadets. Lieutenant Chen stood on my left looking serious. Marcus, Yuki, and David were in the back row."
Another silence. Then, quietly: "Holy shit."
"Hello, James."
"Holy shit. Holy SHIT. You're alive? You're actually—how? Where? We searched everywhere! The debris field was—there was nothing! We thought—I thought—" His voice cracked. "Fuck, Theo. I thought you were dead."
Something in my chest tightened. James wasn't just my deputy. He was my friend. One of the few I had. Hearing the raw emotion in his voice, knowing he'd grieved for me...
"I'm alive," I said simply. "Crashed on a small island near planet E23. I've been stranded, but I'm uninjured."
"E23? That's—that's three weeks of drift from where you went down. How did you—never mind. Doesn't matter. You're alive. That's what matters." I heard him take a shaky breath, composing himself. "Okay. Okay. Sit rep. What do you need?"
"Discrete pickup. No announcements, no official channels. Just you and a small team."
"Discrete. Got it." His tone sharpened, slipping into operational mode. "Why discrete? What's going on?"
"The malfunction wasn't a malfunction. I was sabotaged."
"Sabotaged? By who?"
"I have a lead. I'll brief you in person. For now, I need extraction and..." I hesitated. "Medical personnel."
"Medical? You said you were uninjured."
"I am. The medical team isn't for me."
Pause. "Theo. Are you going to explain that, or do I have to guess?"
"You'll understand when you arrive. Just make sure they're discrete. And trustworthy."
"Discrete and trustworthy medical personnel. For someone who isn't you. On an island where you've been stranded alone for three weeks." Another pause. "Theo, please tell me you didn't find some random omega and—"
"James."
"Right. None of my business. Discrete medical team, got it." I could hear the grin in his voice now, the shock giving way to his usual irreverent humor. "Anything else? Champagne? Flowers? Should I bring a priest?"
"Just get here. How long?"
"I'm currently stationed at the Outer Rim, so... twenty-four hours if I push the engines. Thirty-six to be safe. Can you hold out that long?"
I looked at Nyx, who was watching me with those impossibly large eyes. The baby slept peacefully in her arms. We had food, water, shelter. We'd survived three weeks. We could survive another day and a half.
"We can hold out."
"We?" James's voice rose again. "There's a 'we' now? Theo, what the hell happened on that island?"
"Twenty-four to thirty-six hours, James. I'll send you the coordinates."
"Fine, fine. Keep your secrets. I'll be there with a ship, a medical team, and probably a thousand questions you won't answer." His voice softened. "It's good to hear your voice, Theo. Really good."
"Yours too."
I transmitted the island's coordinates and ended the call. The communicator's screen dimmed, the crack still visible across the display. I set it down carefully and stared at it.
Twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Then we'd leave this island. Return to civilization. To the empire, the royals, the corruption I'd been trying to escape. To the investigation I'd have to conduct, the traitor I'd have to expose, the political nightmare that awaited.
And Nyx... what happened to Nyx?
She was a disgraced omega with damaged glands and no family. The empire had already destroyed her once. What would they do when they found out she'd been alone with me for three weeks? The rumors alone could finish what Mrs. Lo had started.
"What are you thinking?" Nyx asked softly.
I looked at her. The firelight played across her face, highlighting the delicate bone structure, the full lips, the eyes that had seen too much pain for someone so young. She was beautiful. She was broken. She was dangerous to my carefully constructed walls.
"I'm thinking," I said slowly, "that the next day and a half might be the last peace we get for a long time."
She nodded, understanding without me having to explain. "Then we should make the most of it."
The baby stirred, making a small sound. Nyx adjusted him, and he settled again, his tiny hand curling around her finger. Outside, the ocean crashed against the shore in its endless rhythm. The fire crackled. The stars were beginning to emerge in the darkening sky.
Tomorrow, everything would change. But tonight, we were still just three people on an island, safe in our small shelter, with the whole empire far away.
I reached out and added another piece of wood to the fire.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "We should."