Terran Federation, Epsilon Prime, Garipan, Seventh Laboratory

  Nova Carter hunched over the final adjustments to the “Thor” mech, sweat soaking her brow. A few days ago, her father confirmed the lab would relocate to the Capital Military Academy in three days. She wanted to leave Jack a parting gift. The biometal’s instantaneous shape-shifting passed rigorous tests; an electronic warfare suite deadlier than the “Stinger” was installed; and the ultra-long-range energy sniper cannon, capable of piercing a mech cockpit from 5.2 kilometers, was powered by a p-B11 fusion core brimming with destructive force.

  Jack Harlan slipped into the lab like a phantom, his steps improbably light for a heavyset guy. He leaned toward Nova, but his eyes caught her open collar, his brain instantly surrendering to baser instincts.

  Damn, men are such animals! Jack cursed inwardly, tiptoeing closer, stretching his neck to sneak a peek at that pale, flawless view.

  So pale! So soft! God, I’d love a taste!

  A warm, shameful droplet slid from Jack’s mouth, gravity guiding it to land precisely on Nova’s pristine neck.

  Oh, crap!

  Nova froze, her ice-blue eyes flicking up, lips curving into a brief, stunning arc before her gaze turned arctic. She grabbed a Gauss energy wrench, its blue arc crackling with a hum. “Harlan, you’ve got three seconds to explain this ‘liquid’ with fluid dynamics!”

  Facing a furious Nova, Jack’s soldier instincts kicked in. He lunged forward—swift for a big guy—seizing her wrist, using his weight to pin her against the cold metal workbench. The wrench clattered aside.

  The struggle left them locked in an intensely intimate tangle. As the scuffle died down, the lab filled with heavy breathing and the press of bodies, the mood shifting from action-comedy to a charged, ambiguous dance.

  Nova squirmed, but Jack held her tighter. His heat was like lava, and her body softened, a fiery blend of defiance and allure. Her chest pressed against him, friction sparking raw energy. She loosely draped her arms around his neck, half-listening to his stammered excuses, rolling her eyes. No wonder Nia wants to throttle this guy.

  Resting her head on his shoulder, she murmured, “What’re you doing here, big guy? Just got off the phone with Dad. Transport ship’s coming in three days.”

  Seeing Jack’s mind drift, Nova playfully tightened her grip on his neck. “Hey, I’m talking to you. What’s on your mind?”

  Snapping back, Jack patted her cheek. “Came to grab Thor. New mission, need it.”

  Nova’s head shot up, alarmed. “What mission? Is it dangerous?”

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  Not wanting to worry her, Jack grinned. “Chill, standard field op. The worst part’s the paperwork. I’ll be back to make sure you haven’t dismantled Thor before you leave.”

  Nova hugged him tighter, chin on his shoulder, voice soft. “When are you coming back? I’m gone the day after tomorrow.”

  Jack breathed in her unique scent—clean, faintly floral—and said quietly, “Soon. I’ll be back to see you off.”

  Nova gave a shy smile. “I booked dinner at the Smai Hotel, and…” She froze, realizing she’d said too much, then shoved him away and bolted from the lab without looking back.

  That evening, at the Smai Grand Hotel, Garipan’s night skyline sparkled like a starfield beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. In the opulent restaurant, the two sat in a quiet corner.

  The dinner atmosphere was tense. Jack’s knife and fork worked furiously as he shoveled food, eyes glued to his plate. Nova sliced her steak with elegant precision but barely ate, her ice-blue gaze constantly flicking to Jack.

  Nova broke the silence, voice clinical. “Thor’s calibration data’s uploaded to your terminal. The sniper cannon’s got a 5.2-kilometer range. Don’t double-charge before the cooling cycle, or the p-B11 reactor’ll torch your ass.”

  Mouth full, Jack mumbled, “Got it. So I can’t snipe hot Imperial pilots from five klicks out? Nova, you’re ruining the fun of war.”

  Ignoring the joke, Nova continued her technical briefing, masking concern. After several rounds of mech-spec sparring, silence blanketed the table.

  Jack set down his utensils, staring at the city lights. “Nova, this mission’s odds…”

  “Below 17%,” she said, voice flat as a lab report. “My simulation.”

  Jack smirked at the skyline. “My sim says this steak’s so good it’s worth dying for, 100%. At least I’d go out stuffed.”

  They dropped their facades—Nova admitted the danger, Jack faced death with dark humor.

  As dinner ended, Jack mustered the courage. “That ‘and…’ you mentioned earlier—what was it?”

  Nova’s gaze cut like a scalpel, possessive and sharp. “It’s the bill for waiting on you, Harlan. It’s steep. So don’t you dare die before you pay it.”

  Jack stood to leave, but Nova stopped him, pressing a faintly glowing data chip into his hand. “Final calibration patch. Install it before you hit the combat zone.”

  “What’s in it?” Jack asked.

  “…A little trick to keep you alive.”

  Jack pocketed the chip and walked away without looking back. Nova stayed seated, staring at his retreating figure, her hand gripping the cold steak knife.

  Kilometers Below Ground, Aboard a Derelict Mothership

  In a frigid cabin, a ruptured coolant pipe hissed frost, tiny ice crystals floating in the failed gravity. A massive quantum foam storage core loomed like a black tombstone, draped in superconductor lines once chilled to near absolute zero (1 mK) by liquid helium. A p-B11 fusion micro-reactor hummed at low power, sustaining the core’s faint pulse.

  A glossy obsidian orb hovered in the center, held aloft by a micro-fusion magnetic field.

  Click.

  A rusted hatch creaked open. A 1cm quantum data core, glowing faint blue, arced like a firefly, settling onto the storage core.

  The orb’s surface split, revealing insect-like mechanical arms. They delicately lifted the data core, drawing it inside. A micro-fusion cell surged 10? joules, awakening the dormant system.

  Hum—

  The superconducting holographic array flickered to life, green pixels coalescing through static snow to form text:

  [SEED] ENCRYPTED_TRANSMISSION: SUCCESSFUL

  [RECIPIENT]: TERRAN_COMMONWEALTH // EPSILON_PRIME // GARIPAN // 7TH_LAB // CARTER, NOVA

  The mechanical arms danced, as if expressing joy. The quantum core thrummed with low-frequency resonance, mimicking the click of ancient relays, echoing:

  “Jack… Jack… Jack…”

  The hologram shifted, displaying fleeting images: a wedding, an argument, a reconciliation, a beach sunset, a child chasing a balloon—then a jarring cut to a beautiful human woman, bare…