Page 63 of Alien Guardian's Vow
Claire moaned softly on the table, her markings flaring painfully bright then fading to a dull shimmer. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and clouded with pain.
"R-Rivera?" Her voice cracked, barely audible.
"I'm here, Claire. Just hang on." I turned to the console, searching for another approach. "Varek, how much time do we have?"
He glanced toward the corridor. "Minutes at most. The patrol schedule Zara provided gives us one more cycle before the next guard rotation."
I nodded, focusing again on the interface. The restraint system's architecture unfolded in my mind—not just what I saw on the screen, but what my markings sensed beneath. The power source, the connection nodes, the feedback loops Hammond had created to amplify Claire's markings.
"He's trying to force her to interface with the ancient tech," I muttered. "He's amplifying her signal but it's tearing her apart."
The next power cycle approached. I positioned my fingers over the console, waiting for the precise moment. My markings tingled, responding to the energy fields around us.
"Now," I whispered to myself as the fields dimmed.
VAREK
Rivera darted to the console, her silver markings brightening as she connected with the ancient system. My body tensed, ready. The unconscious guard lay hidden behind storage containers, but his absence wouldn't go unnoticed for long.
Claire's restraints pulsed with sickly blue energy, her markings flaring erratically beneath them. Even from this distance, I could sense the wrongness of what Hammond had done—forcing connections that should never exist, twisting the natural order of things. My ancestors had warned of such corruption for generations.
"Damn it," Rivera hissed as error messages flashed across her screen.
Claire stirred on the table, eyes fluttering open. "R-Rivera?"
"I'm here, Claire. Just hang on."
Rivera's fingers went quickly across the interface, her face set with determination. I admired her focus, her refusal to surrender to impossible odds. In the short time I'd known her, she'd shattered every preconception I'd held about humans.
"Varek, how much time do we have?"
I glanced toward the corridor, listening for approaching footsteps. "Minutes at most. The next guard rotation is due."
My shoulder throbbed, the half-healed wound protesting every movement. I ignored it. Pain was temporary. Failure here would be permanent.
The doors at the far end of the corridor hissed open. Footsteps—multiple sets, moving with purpose.
"Rivera." My voice dropped to a warning whisper. "Company."
She did not look up from the console. "I need thirty more seconds. Just one more power cycle."
I drew my blade, the familiar weight centering me. Three guards rounded the corner, weapons raised. The lead guard spotted the boots of the unconscious human protruding from behind the storage unit and shouted an alarm.
No time for stealth now.
I launched forward, a blur of controlled violence. My first strike disarmed the lead guard, sending his weapon clattering across the floor. The second guard fired, the shot going wide as I twisted away. My blade found the gap in his armor at the shoulder, not a killing blow but enough to disable his shooting arm.
The third guard backed away, comm unit raised to his mouth. "Intruders in Sector 7! The Nyxari is?—"
I silenced him with a swift strike to the throat—not enough to crush his windpipe, but sufficient to cut off his words and his air temporarily. He dropped to his knees, gasping.
The first guard recovered, drawing a sidearm. I kicked it from his grasp, then delivered a precise blow to the side of his head. He crumpled.
"Varek, behind you!" Rivera's warning cut through the sounds of struggle.
I spun. A fourth guard had appeared, rifle aimed at my chest. I dropped and rolled as he fired, the shot sizzling through the air where I'd stood. Coming up beneath his guard, I slammed my fist into his solar plexus, then struck his temple as he doubled over.
Four down. But more would come.
