The lab was a vortex of screaming metal and golden sparks. The power surge from the Thorne Factor had bypassed the ship's breakers, turning the medical equipment into a collection of live wires and exploding glass. Elias felt his right wrist-cuff click—not open, but lose its magnetic seal for a fraction of a second as the Dreadnought's primary reactor buckled under the drain.
With a guttural roar, Elias wrenched his arm free, the skin of his wrist peeling away as he forced his hand through the jagged metal ring. He didn't stop to breathe. He lunged across the narrow gap between the cradles, slamming his fist into the manual release on Lyra's restraints.
They fell together onto the floor, a tangle of limbs and weeping wounds. The golden light was receding, leaving the room in a sickly, flickering red.
"The extraction... it stopped," Lyra wheezed, clutching her chest. Her skin was still hot to the touch, a faint, bioluminescent gold glowing beneath her veins like fading embers.
"Move!" Elias pulled her toward the shadows as the Wraiths recovered.
Valerius was screaming at his technicians, his face purple with rage. "Re-engage the locks! We are at forty percent! If the sequence isn't completed, the sun will destabilize in hours!"
Elias and Lyra scrambled behind a heavy server bank. Elias reached into his pocket and pulled out the data drive. It was hot, the casing partially melted.
"We have to get this to the bridge," Elias said, his voice a rasp. "If I can broadcast the archive files and the live feed of what he's doing here, the crew will turn on him. They're soldiers, Lyra, not cultists. They won't follow a man who's murdering the Thorne lineage."
Lyra looked at him, and for the first time, there was a terrible, hollow clarity in her eyes. "Elias... look at the drive. Look at the data stream."
The drive had a small LED display. It wasn't just showing the archive anymore. Because it had been in his pocket during the extraction, it had absorbed a portion of the Thorne Factor's energy. The drive was now displaying a countdown—not for the sun, but for them.
"The 'biological sequence' isn't just data, Elias," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Valerius didn't tell us the whole truth. It's a parasitic link. Once the bridge is opened, it can't be closed. It's like a circuit that's been tripped."
She pointed to the screen. Two heart icons were pulsing in perfect unison.
"Our hearts are slaved to each other now," she said, a tear finally falling and sizzling against her heated skin. "The Thorne Factor... it's using our proximity to stabilize. If we move more than a hundred meters apart, the heart rate of the person further away will skyrocket to compensate for the signal loss. They'll... they'll go into cardiac arrest in minutes."
Elias stared at her, the horror of the twist sinking in. They weren't just lovers or siblings or allies. They were now a single biological unit. They could never leave each other's side. If one was captured, the other had to follow. If one died, the other would follow within seconds.
"Valerius didn't want to just kill us," Elias realized, his stomach churning. "He wanted to chain us. He knew we'd try to escape. This was his insurance. We are a two-headed dog on a very short leash."
"Captain!" a voice boomed. Valerius was walking toward their hiding spot, a pulse-pistol in his hand. "I can see the thermal signatures of your bodies. You're burning like twin stars. You can't run. If you jump into a pod and leave me, you'll be dead before you hit the atmosphere because you won't be able to maintain the proximity sync during the launch."
Elias looked at Lyra. The slow burn of their romance had become a literal, terminal bond. They were trapped in the most intimate prison ever devised.
"We have to get to the bridge together," Elias whispered, his eyes locking onto hers. "We fight as one, or we die as one."
"I've spent my life fighting alone," Lyra said, reaching out to lace her fingers with his. Her hand was shaking, but her grip was like a vice. "I think I prefer this."
Elias stood up, pulling his sidearm. He didn't aim at the Wraiths. He aimed at the overhead coolant lines.
"Hold your breath," he commanded.
He fired. The pipes burst, flooding the room with a thick, freezing nitrogen fog. In the chaos of the temperature drop, their thermal signatures vanished from Valerius's scanners.
They ran—shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart—into the vents. But as they crawled through the narrow shafts, Elias felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest.
"Lyra," he gasped, slowing down. "You're... you're two feet ahead of me. Back up."
She scrambled back, her face etched with agony. The moment she touched him, the pain receded to a dull ache.
The leash was even shorter than they thought.
To be continued...