The elevator hummed as it descended, the walls transparent and revealing the colossal skeleton of the Mechanical Trade Expanse. Neon lattices stretched out in every direction like the ribs of some interstellar leviathan. Massive cargo freighters drifted lazily past docking gates, their hulls flashing with streams of machine-script. Walkways of translucent green plasma glass crisscrossed the air, glowing highways packed with civilians, cyborg merchants, and the occasional floating drone-ferry carrying families with pets wrapped in containment bubbles.
Luna stood stiff in the elevator, tugging her coat closed as if it might hide the faint lavender glow radiating softly from her bioengineered skin. Her pupils still flickered with that new luminous sheen, faint lilac circuits gliding in rings across her irises. Every time her gaze accidentally met someone's, they looked twice—first at her, then at Valerian, whose storm-blue glow was even sharper, colder, more alien.
Luna's face turned crimson. They're staring at us. Everyone is staring. Do they know? Do they see me blushing like a child? Oh no, what if they think we're… lovers already… oh my god… stop, stop thinking that! She pressed her lips together tightly, lowering her head, letting her half-moon earrings swing forward to cover her burning cheeks.
Valerian, by contrast, was marble. He didn't glance left or right, didn't so much as acknowledge the weight of countless eyes on them. His stride was unbroken, measured, deliberate. To him, stares were noise, irrelevant. This is cover. Nothing more, he reminded himself. But his stormy gaze swept across reflective glass once—just once—and caught Luna walking half a step behind him, clutching her coat as though shielding something sacred. He didn't comment. He never did.
Thomas, striding ahead, broke the silence with his dry voice: "Get used to the stares. You glow. Biolayers are sophisticated, but in the Trade Expanse? People notice anomalies. It's why the couple disguise will work. You'll stand out—but in the right way. Lovers always stand out."
Luna nearly tripped. She made a small hiccuping sound—half laugh, half mortified squeak. "L-Lovers… stand out?" she repeated under her breath. Her heart skittered like it was trying to leap out of her ribcage. Why does he keep using that word? Why does it sound so… dangerous… when Valerian's right here beside me…
Valerian didn't even twitch. He simply said, flatly, "It doesn't matter how we stand out, as long as it conceals our true purpose."
They reached the docking hangar, a cavernous chamber where spacecraft of all shapes crouched like metallic beasts. Their assigned vessel awaited near Gate 77—sleek, matte silver, its wings folded inward, thrumming with the low purr of power systems on standby. The ISA insignia had already been scrubbed from its hull, replaced with anonymous hexagonal markings and neon blue stripes that identified it as a civilian model.
The three approached in silence. Civilians moved around them, some whispering as their glowing eyes passed, some simply gawking. Luna kept her gaze on the floor, her heart battering against her chest. What if they expect me to hold his hand? Couples hold hands in places like this, right? Should I? No, no, if I grab his hand now he'll just look at me with that cold expression and—ugh!—I'll melt into the ground! Breathe, Luna, breathe… it's just a mission. Acting. Pretend.
At the ramp of the spacecraft, Thomas turned and faced them. He didn't offer a long speech—just raised his hand in a half-salute, half-wave. "Remember your instructions. Mechatopia is not forgiving. Find Nikhil Galdos first, then adjust to the city. And Luna—" he paused, his eyes sharpening on her, "—composure. You're S-rank. Act like one."
Her cheeks flared again. "Y-yes, I will! I—I promise!" she stammered, bowing slightly in an awkward flourish that made the nearby dock workers snicker quietly.
Valerian's stormy eyes slid briefly to Thomas, and the two men exchanged the smallest of nods—an acknowledgment, professional, wordless. Then, for the briefest flicker, Valerian's hand rose. Not a wave. Just a lift, a silent recognition of parting. It was so small it almost didn't count as a gesture, but Thomas seemed to understand. He returned it with a knowing smirk.
Luna, caught off-guard by Valerian's rare gesture, hastily lifted her own hand and waved much too energetically. "Th-thank you, Thomas!" she blurted, her voice cracking slightly.
Thomas chuckled and shook his head. "Good luck, you two. Try not to die before you've even kissed in public." He turned on his heel before Luna could combust from embarrassment, his coat swishing as he strode back into the neon glow of the hangar.
Inside the spacecraft, the sliding doors sealed with a hiss, cutting off the chaos of the Trade Expanse. The interior was quieter, sterile, humming faintly with active systems. Valerian strode directly to the control room and slipped into the pilot's chair, fingers gliding over the controls like he was born to them.
Luna stood behind him at first, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve, her cheeks still flaming. He waved. He actually waved. Did I see that right? Did Valerian actually wave at Thomas? I've never seen him do that. Oh god, what if… what if one day he waves at me? The thought made her knees wobble, and she quickly steadied herself by gripping the doorway.
Valerian's wrist console flickered to life, feeding into the main panel. Coordinates lit up, aligning into a sharp vector. With a flick of his hand, the engines thrummed alive. "Course set for Mechatopia," he announced, voice calm, even.
The ship detached from the dock, weightless for a moment before its thrusters roared. Valerian maneuvered smoothly, sliding them through the traffic grid. The endless neon highways blurred past, civilians and cargo freighters shrinking in their wake.
Luna watched him from the co-pilot seat, her posture straight, hands folded in her lap to hide their trembling. He looks so steady, like nothing shakes him. Not stares, not Thomas's words, not even this… couple disguise thing. How can he stay so cold when I feel like I'm on fire just sitting next to him?
The ship reached the outer rings of the Trade Expanse, where vast gates shimmered with luminous energy. A hyperspace portal yawned ahead, a great hexagonal maw of light twisting into infinity. Valerian's hands didn't falter.
"Hold steady," he murmured, almost to himself, and then the vessel leapt forward. The engines flared white, the portal swallowed them whole, and the Mechanical Trade Expanse vanished in a shiver of light.
Luna gasped softly at the transition, her stomach fluttering from the sudden acceleration. The stars stretched and warped around them, cascading into tunnels of luminous blues and silvers. She pressed her hands to her chest, feeling her heartbeat hammering against her palms. This is it. No turning back. Mechatopia. Acting like his girlfriend. Pretending… pretending while my heart doesn't pretend at all.
Valerian kept his eyes fixed on the coordinates, his stormy pupils glowing faintly in the dim light. He didn't need to look at her to feel the weight of her silence beside him.
For a long moment, the only sounds were the steady thrum of the engines and the soft, unsteady rhythm of Luna's breath.