They couldn't stay in the heart chamber. The Corrupted would flood it with troops. Ryn found a small access conduit leading to a catalytic gland cluster—a maintenance space for the ship's energy processors. It was hot, humming with power, and most importantly, isolated.
They barricaded the entrance with a fallen structural rib and collapsed against the warm, crystalline walls, breathing hard.
Echo's side was bleeding where Valerius's tentacle had cut him. Mira had a burn on her arm from a Hunter's energy discharge. Leyla was favoring her left leg. Ryn's cybernetics were sparking from a disruptor hit.
"We're not making it forty decks like this," Ryn stated grimly, applying a sealant patch to her fried wrist-unit.
"We have to," Leyla snarled, but the pain in her eyes betrayed her.
Mira moved to Echo, her hands glowing with gentle blue light as she tried to knit his wound. "The corruption in this air… it's slowing my healing."
Echo placed his hand over hers. "Save your energy." He focused inward, on his own bloodline. He willed his blood vessels to constrict around the wound, accelerating clotting and cell regeneration. The bleeding slowed, then stopped. The pain remained, a deep ache.
He then turned to Leyla, placing a hand on her leg. He used his Vital Share ability, sending a wave of soothing, regulated energy into her strained muscles. She sighed as the sharp pain dulled to a throb.
Ryn watched, her human eye wide. "You can do that for others too?"
"For them, yes," Echo said. "The bond makes it easier, deeper."
He moved to Ryn next, examining her sparking neural interface port. He couldn't fix machinery with blood, but he could enhance her body's ability to cope with the feedback. He placed his fingers near the port, sending a calm, stabilizing rhythm into her nervous system. The pained tension in her face eased.
"Thank you," she whispered.
There, in the humming, hellish glow of the catalytic gland, surrounded by the enemy, a moment of profound stillness descended. The frantic energy of battle faded, replaced by the simple, vital reality of their connection.
Mira leaned her head on Echo's shoulder. Leyla curled against his other side, her tail wrapping around his waist. Ryn, after a moment's hesitation, sat close, her shoulder touching his.
They didn't speak. They just existed together, drawing strength from touch, from shared breath, from the quiet hum of their bonds.
Echo looked at Ryn. In the soft light, she looked less like a soldier and more like a woman—weary, resilient, beautiful in her stark honesty. He saw her not just as a new bond, but as a crucial piece of their mosaic. She met his gaze, and in her human eye, he saw no barrier, only trust.
He leaned over and kissed her. It was soft, a question. She answered by deepening it, her hand coming up to his cheek. It was different from kissing Leyla or Mira—there was a rawness to it, an acknowledgment of the death all around them and their stubborn choice to feel alive.
Leyla and Mira watched, not with jealousy, but with a quiet, protective warmth. Their bond had expanded to include Ryn; her pleasure was theirs, his connection to her strengthened them all.
Echo pulled Ryn onto his lap. They undressed her damaged armor with careful hands, Mira helping with buckles, Leyla smoothing away a strand of hair from Ryn's face. It was an intimate, shared undressing, a ritual of acceptance.
Echo laid Ryn back on their piled cloaks. He kissed her throat, her collarbone, the junction where her cybernetic arm met the smooth skin of her shoulder. She gasped, her back arching. Her body was a landscape of scars and augmentations, and he worshipped all of it.
When he entered her, it was with a slow, deep certainty. She wrapped her legs around him, her synthetic fingers digging into his back, her human hand tangled in his hair. The bond between them, once a thread of tactical respect, now thickened into a cable of shared sensation and emotional surrender.
Leyla and Mira joined not as spectators, but as participants. Leyla kissed Ryn's shoulder, her teeth grazing lightly. Mira traced patterns on Ryn's stomach, her spatial energy creating faint, tingling vibrations. It was a symphony of four, a merging that was as much about healing and reaffirmation as passion.
Echo felt his bloodline singing in harmony with their combined rhythms. The potent, life-affirming energy of the act flowed through the bond, mending not just bodies, but spirit.
[ Bond with Ryn: Level 3 Achieved ]
[ Quad-Bond Synchronization: First Harmony ]
[ All bonds strengthened. Collective Resilience +10% ]
[ Echo's Bloodline Progress: 3.5% ]
[ Ability Unlocked: Shared Vitality – Healing and energy-regeneration effects are slightly amplified when within close proximity of all bonded companions. ]
Afterward, they lay together in a tangled, sated heap. The dreadnought's alarms seemed distant. For a few stolen minutes, they were not soldiers on a suicide mission. They were a man and his loves, finding light in the deepest dark.
Ryn traced the new crimson tracery glowing faintly on Echo's chest. "We're going to make it," she said, and for the first time, it sounded like a fact, not a hope.
"Yes," Echo said, kissing each of them in turn. "We are."
Because they had to. They had too much to live for.