The Space Empress He Craved

Chapter 30

POV: Lyra

I panted after screaming 'never' with what little strength I had left. The word echoed through the damaged docking bay, bouncing off twisted metal and shattered transparisteel. Slowly, I turned around, wiping the saline discharge from my optical ducts with the back of my gloved hand, swallowing the weakness that wanted to escape. When I finally looked up to face the assembled forces, my skin was probably cycling through a dozen shades of exhaustion—grey-blue fatigue mixed with purple pain.

Ignoring Orion completely—I couldn't deal with him right now—I asked in a flat tone, "Status report on Commander Frederick and the specialists with him?"

Juan answered softly, his own armor scorched from plasma fire, "Signaled all-clear from the bunker sixty seconds ago."

I nodded weakly. "Copy. Good. Casualties?"

The Sub-Commander from Jewel Station stepped forward, his smile incongruous with the destruction around us. "Zero casualties, Commander Lyra."

"Alright, that's... good news." The words came out between labored breaths. My body was still processing the toxin from that Rogue's blade—stellar engineering [extremely advanced] poison that even my enhanced metabolism struggled against.

"Thank you, Commander Lyra. Jewel Station owes you a debt," the Sub-Commander said with genuine gratitude, offering a formal salute.

"Negative." I shook my head gently, managing what probably looked like a pathetic attempt at a smile. "Couldn't have done it without everyone here. As children of the cosmos, protecting each other is our duty." My eyes found Tate after I said that. He was grinning broadly—both of us remembering our conversation during transport about unity between stations.

"Are you certain you're functional?" Orion's deep, remorseful voice came from behind me. His hand settled gently on my waist where the plasma blade had penetrated my armor, making my entire body go rigid.

Don't touch me. Not after what you said. Not after you called me reckless for saving lives.

I turned reluctantly, our eyes locking. The rage that had burned in his purple pathways earlier had vanished. Now there was just guilt making his unusual eyes glisten with moisture. "I'm functional," I responded flatly, my skin betraying me by shifting to hurt amber despite my controlled tone.

He looked at the assembled forces, and his expression turned calculating, like he was processing something through that Imperial neural implant. I moved immediately to block his line of sight, my body screaming in protest at the sudden movement. My growl came out weak but determined: "Leave them out of this. They're only here because I requested backup."

Behind me, Juan's voice rang clear through the damaged bay. "That's inaccurate, Your Eminence. If I hadn't sent the priority-one neural burst to all Commanders and their partners, if I hadn't given the deployment order, none of us would be here. This isn't Lyra's fault. It's mine."

The sound of his knee hitting the metal deck plating made me want to scream.

"Juan, shut your void-hole [mouth] and stand up. You still have Hale AND a station to run. Let me handle this." I spun back to face Orion, and said as firmly as my weakened voice could manage, "I requested the forces. Juan was just the relay. Do not touch him or the others."

"We're not letting you take sole responsibility, Lyra." Tate's voice came next. The sound of another knee hitting deck plating. One by one, the station commanders and combat specialists knelt in formation beside Juan.

Commander Zelena knelt with the others, her voice confident despite the submissive posture. "We stand with her."

Void-damned [damned] idiots, all of them.

I launched into an angry lecture about how irrational and reckless they were being, wanting to share punishment just to keep Orion from singling me out. My voice cracked as I listed reasons: they had stations to command and protect, partners and younglings waiting for them. They had lives that mattered to thousands of beings. They just stared at the Emperor emotionlessly, absorbing my words but firm in their collective decision—they wouldn't let him punish me without going through them first. My voice got softer, weaker, more strained as the toxin continued its work through my system.

For once—and I could tell from his blank expression—Orion wasn't processing a single word I said. His pathways dimmed as he turned his gaze to the deck plating, like the sight of all these leaders kneeling was physically painful to him. When he spoke, his voice came out low and pained: "Please stand. All of you. Never kneel to me like that again."

They looked uncertain, glancing between each other. I hissed in an angry whisper, finding strength from somewhere deep: "Up! All of you! Now!"

They rose immediately, staying in formation where they'd knelt.

While I was still facing them, ready to continue my tirade, Orion took my hand with unexpected gentleness. His fingers brushed away debris from my palm—fragments of metal and crystallized blood from the fight. Then he lifted my hand to his mouth and ran his tongue across my palm in a slow, deliberate motion.

What in the void?

"What are you doing?!" I whispered angrily, but I lacked the strength to pull away. His grip remained gentle but unbreakable.

He smiled sadly, saying nothing. Then he lifted his own arm and, extending his dental modifications, tore through his bio-suit and into his flesh with violent force. Purple-tinted blood began trickling from his self-inflicted wound—Lyrokan blood, rich with their superior healing nanites. The sight made me flinch involuntarily.

Furrowing his brow in concern at my reaction, Orion glanced at me before extending one of his finger-blades—those retractable weapons Lyrokans possessed—and scratched a precise line across my palm. My red blood began flowing immediately. Before I could protest, he pressed my bleeding palm against his already-healing wound.

No. He's not doing what I think he's doing.

In a low but certain voice, Orion spoke the ancient words, translating from Old Lyrokan: "I, Orion Thomas Claw, offer you, Lyra Ash, a link to my consciousness."

Despite my exhaustion, my eyes went wide. My skin cycled through shocked white to confused purple. Neural links were only possible between members of the same station, unless you held Commander rank, which enabled emergency links with other station leaders. Even matched pairs from different stations couldn't establish permanent neural links until they were fully bonded and marked. Government officials had specialized implants that allowed cross-station communication for security purposes. But a neural link outside station hierarchies, match bonds, and government protocols? That was almost unheard of.

Why would he do this? After calling me reckless? After his rage?

"Anytime now, star-heart [endearment]," Orion said as our blood began coagulating, our enhanced healing already closing the wounds. His pathways pulsed with anxiety.

He wants to track me. To make sure I can't act without him knowing. Or... or maybe he wants to make sure I can reach him? But why?

I could see the fear building in his pathways—purple shifting toward desperate black. Did he think I'd refuse? That I was already severing our match bond for what he'd said? The mighty Emperor, afraid of rejection from a mining colony Commander.

Still confused but seeing his genuine distress, I stammered, "I—I, Lyra Ash, accept your offer."

Visible relief flooded his features, his pathways blazing bright purple-white with joy.

Orion, ignoring his own wound completely, cleaned the remaining blood from my palm with careful attention. By the time my wound was spotless, his own had already sealed—Lyrokan healing was at least twice as fast as Kaelari. After my wound closed without leaving even a faint line, he pressed his lips to my palm in a deep kiss before pulling my body against his chest, holding me with desperate strength.

I don't understand. What's going through his mind? One moment he's furious about unauthorized action, the next he's... this?

His voice, laced with regret, pleaded directly into my auditory canal: "I'm so sorry, Lyra. This was my fault. Should've been more alert. Should never have yelled at you. I am so, so sorry." His grip tightened. My already compromised respiratory system started struggling—he was a Lyrokan, his strength could literally crush my ribcage if he wasn't careful.

"Orion, let... me go." I managed to wheeze out.

Oh void, he thinks I mean—

"No!" He whimpered—actually whimpered—in fear, squeezing even tighter. "I'm so sorry, Lyra, please. Don't leave me. D-Don't reject me, I'm begging you. I'll be better, please."

He was begging. The Galactic Emperor was begging in front of thirty station commanders and combat specialists. His pathways were pure black with terror, his dignified composure completely shattered.

He thinks I want to reject him. He's literally crushing me because he's terrified of losing me.

"Can't... breathe," I managed to cough out, my vision starting to blur at the edges.

Understanding hit him like a plasma bolt. He loosened his grip immediately, his pathways cycling through horrified realization. I took several deep breaths, my lungs burning as they expanded properly again. Orion supported me carefully by my waist and arm, his pathways now pulsing with even deeper guilt.

Great. He nearly suffocated his match. Add that to the list of things that make us incompatible.

When I could stabilize my breathing, I looked at the unconscious Rogue Lyrokan sprawled on the deck—the one who'd led the attack, who'd nearly destroyed Jewel Station. "We should return to base now."

Orion smiled weakly and nodded. Christian, reading the situation and getting his cousin's confirmation, hefted the body over his shoulder without being asked. That's when Alfred Cummings and Pierre Whitlaw materialized from the emergency transport, along with—of course—Sebastian Cummings.

Perfect. Just what I need. The three beings I least want to see when I can barely stand.

My skin shifted to exhausted grey as I prepared for whatever fresh hell awaited us.