Chapter 29: The Calm Before the Storm

For the first time in months, the war had given us a moment to breathe.

The fleet was docked at Haven’s Rest, a remote, neutral station hidden deep in an asteroid field. It wasn’t much—a collection of repurposed freighters and scavenged ship parts welded together into something that barely qualified as a station. But it had fuel, supplies, and, most importantly, no enemies in sight.

I stood on the observation deck of the G’Tarok, staring out at the asteroid field beyond. The stars shimmered in the distance, their cold light indifferent to the chaos of war.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself relax.

Then the door behind me slid open.

Ny’Vara.

She stepped inside, her golden eyes fixed on me, arms crossed over her toned frame. Even out of armor, in just a simple flight suit, she radiated strength and intensity.

“You should be resting,” she said.

I smirked. “Funny. I was about to say the same to you.”

She huffed, walking to my side. “I don’t rest easily. Not with another battle on the horizon.”

I turned to her, studying her features. The flickering starlight cast soft shadows across her face, highlighting the faint scars along her cheek—marks of battles fought, victories won, losses endured.

“Neither do I,” I admitted.

For a long moment, we stood there in silence. There was no need for words. The war had forged a bond between us—one of trust, of battle, of shared struggles. But there was something more beneath it. Something neither of us had dared to acknowledge until now.

She exhaled softly. “You fight like a Narn, you know. Reckless, determined, always throwing yourself into the fire.”

I chuckled. “Is that a compliment?”

Ny’Vara turned to face me fully. “It is.”

She hesitated for only a second before stepping closer. Just enough that I could feel the warmth of her body, see the flicker of uncertainty in her fierce eyes. Ny’Vara wasn’t one for hesitation. But this? This was different.

“Captain...” Her voice was quieter now, almost unsure.

I didn’t let her second-guess herself.

I reached up, brushing my fingers along her jaw, feeling the warmth of her skin. She didn’t pull away.

And then, she kissed me.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t delicate. It was fire.

A raw, unspoken need ignited between us, fueled by months of tension, of battle, of moments stolen between war and duty. She pressed against me, her hands gripping my uniform, as if afraid to let go.

When we finally broke apart, she let out a shaky breath, her forehead resting against mine.

“Damn it,” she muttered. “This is going to make things complicated.”

I grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She smirked, but there was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze. “This war won’t stop for us, Harper.”

I nodded. “I know. But that doesn’t mean we have to stop for it.”

She studied me for a long moment, then sighed. “We’ll see.”

Then, before I could say anything else, she stepped back, reclaiming the distance between us. The warrior’s mask slid back into place, but the heat in her gaze remained.

“Get some rest, Captain,” she said, smirking as she walked toward the door. “We’ll have plenty to fight soon enough.”

As the door slid shut behind her, I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck.

Yeah. Things were about to get a lot more complicated.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.