THIS FEELING WITHIN

When Rivra woke, Milo jumped from his chair, dashing over to her. He grabbed one of her hands with both of his. She could hear his heartbeat flutter, his breath shallow and quick. They weren't in the cave anymore, as she recognized the slightly chilly, electric air of Faith's laboratory. The hum of machines confirmed her suspicion.

"Oh, thank god!" Milo said. "I didn't think you were going to wake up!"

Rivra groaned, moving to sit up, but a dull ache in her stomach gave her pause. She smoothed her left hand over her abs, and could feel the tender and ragged flesh beneath a layer of freshly applied gauze. Her memories flooded back, and she flinched as she could almost feel the bullets piercing her body a second time. She had been shot at plenty of times, but never before had her Scrapster skin been pierced by any bullet. She heaved a sigh. "Well, that was embarrassing."

Milo cocked a brow. "Embarrassing? Getting shot is embarrassing? I thought you were going to die!" Waving her hand, Rivra pushed herself up into a sitting position. "You shouldn't move. Your wounds are still healing."

"Even so, I will heal quickly. Stop fretting over me."

Milo balled his hands into fists as he held onto Rivra's forearm. She sighed. (When did he start to care so much about me? It kind of reminds me of…) She shook her head and leveled a grin in Milo's direction. "Really, I'm fine, Milo. There's no need to worry about me."

"As much I hate to agree with her, Rivra is correct."

Faith appeared beside Milo, a glowing screen floating in the air in front of her, filled with Rivra's vital readings in a language Milo didn't understand. "Her internal organs are unharmed, and Riosae expertly removed and cauterized Rivra's wounds. As of right now, Rivra is mostly like just feeling mild soreness. She will quickly recover."

Milo deflated, bowing his head. "Th-that's good, I guess. I mean, it's great! I'm glad you're recovering. I just…"

Rivra reached out and stroked Milo's cheek with one of her fingers. She felt his breathing hitch. A soothing heat stirred inside her. (This feeling…Do I…?)

"I appreciate your concern, Milo. But don't worry, I'm fine. Now, then." She turned her head toward Faith. "What's happened since I've been asleep? I noticed the Captain isn't here. Which is…odd."

Faith swiped her hand, and the screen with Rivra's vitals disappeared in a flash. She cleared her throat. "I fear the Captain and your brother have been taken to Scrapstar."

Whatever calm had arrested Rivra instantly dissipated, and her smile flipped into a deep scowl as her voice boomed, "What?! They were taken? By Des and that other space pirate?" She slammed her fist into the bed, the frame bent downward at her incredible strength. "Please tell me we're on our way to Scrapstar right now."

Faith nodded. "We are en route and will be arriving shortly. Although, Milo did worry you might be upset because you were not consulted about returning to your home world."

A playful smile teased at Rivra's lips. "Is that so? I'm flattered you would worry about my feelings, little Milo."

Milo hunched his shoulder until the almost touched his ears. "I-I…really, I knew we needed to go. But I know you also didn't really want to go back."

Heaving a breath through her nose, Rivra swung her legs out over the infirmary bed and stood, rolled her shoulders, and stretched her legs. "So be it. I guess I'm coming home today. How long has it been? Twenty years? Twenty-five?"

Milo gulped, eyeing Rivra with concern as she moved around like she hadn't just recovered from two bullet wounds. But if she was jumping around like this, there was no point in him trying to baby her. "You almost seem excited."

Rivra grinned, flexing one of her thick green biceps. "Maybe not before. But…after spending some time at Mistress's again, I was really able to hone my senses. Sharpen them. I can tell you haven't showered since before your training session. I can still smell a faint scent of ash on you from the lava."

Milo's eyes bulged in his head. "Th-that's…wow. Okay. I guess I'll take a shower, then."

"There is no time," Faith said. "We are hurtling toward Scrapstar as we speak. I am certain that the King of the Scrapsters will not hesitate to execute the Captain at his earliest convenience. Even if Krol buys us some time."

Rivra crossed her arms, sighing. "Yeah, once my father has set his mind to something, it's hard to change it. About the only way we'll be able to do it is by beating it into him. He's old fashioned that way."

She stooped down and scooped Milo into her arms. He was silent as she did so, and caused Rivra to raise a brow. She had been looking forward to hearing Milo squeak and yelp like he always did when she picked him up. But as she held him in her arms, she noticed something was different. He felt more firm to her touch, his skin less doughy, knots of hard muscles formed along his arms and legs. Now it was Rivra whose breath caught in her throat. This Milo in her arms wasn't the same Milo Lucianna had brought onto the Herald. She chuckled and he looked back at her. "Wh-what is it?"

"Nothing. Just admiring your hard work." She fondled him a bit longer, and Milo finally yelped as she got more touchy-feely with his body.

Faith cleared her throat. "Please reserve the flirting for after the Captain is rescued, yes? I must stress that time is of the essence."

Rivra laughed, hoisting Milo onto her back. "Sorry, I got sidetracked! Let's go, little Milo!"

***

The Herald pulled into Scrapstar's orbit about an hour later, and already Milo's breath was catching in his throat. He looked down at his wrist, at the gem of power embedded there, and he closed his eyes. He tried to picture that room, the one he had entered with Lucianna, but all he could see was blank, white walls. The harder he tried to focus, the more his head spun, and so after a few moments of futilely trying to pull on his bond with Lucianna, he gave up, grunting as he stared forward at the monitors.

"Something the matter?" Rivra said, sitting lotus-style on the floor next to him. "You sound frustrated."

"I was trying to pull on that bond. The one where Lucianna and I can communicate with our minds? Did she ever mention that to you?"

"In passing, I think. But she never went into detail about it."

"Well, there's not much to go into detail about. We hardly know how it works, anyway. But it seems to get stronger and weaker depending on the distance between us and…well. Depending on our relationship."

Rivra tilted her head. "Relationship? Are you and the Captain…?"

"Huh? N-no. Not at all!"

She giggled, pushing herself up to her feet. "Well, even if you were, there would be nothing I could do to stop you. Especially if you're her Celestial Partner."

He screwed his lips in concentration, and his eyes lit up. "Oh, right. I remember Riosae saying something about that. It's…like soulmates, right?"

Rivra shrugged. "I'm not sure. Scrapsters have no such concept. From what I understand, though, is the Chueleans will unconsciously pick a mate, and that will be their mate for life. It sounds like a myth to me, but it's said that a Chuelean will do whatever they can to protect their Celestial Partner. If she has picked you…then some things make a little more sense."

As he was about to ask her what she meant about that, his right wrist exploded in pain, and he curled over wave after wave fiery heat ripple up his arm. His head screamed with Lucianna's voice: (MILO! RUN! GET OUT OF THERE!)

His eyes widened. "Rivra! Something's wrong!"

It was then the ship shook violently, lurching as a sound like cars crashing erupted overhead. Faith's voice crackled over the intercom: "Incoming enemy ships. Deploying shields. Fasten your safety belts. I will be taking an express route to the Scrapster Palace."

The ship was struck with another round of violent tremors as enemy projectiles pummeled the Herald's hull. Milo white-knuckled his chair, barely pushing the button to deploy his safety belt. Rivra steadied herself as the ship lurched forward, the engines crescendoing to a high pitch. On the monitors Milo could see they were being pursued by five enemy ships. They were large, patchwork creations forget into long finger shapes. Each ship was surrounded by a half-ring of metal and glass that Milo recognized as uniquely Scrapster, with lop-sided panels that seemed to hang off for no discernible reason. Despite this, the ships seemed quite agile, but much slower than the Herald. As the command deck trembled and shook around him, though, Milo knew their firepower outclassed theirs.

He examined the chair he was sitting in—it was Lucianna's chair, and for some reason it just felt right to share this space where she would normally occupy. He remembered the last time they had been attacked in space and peered down at the arms of the chair. He pressed a certain button, and the panel flipped, revealed the same cylindrical tube that Lucianna had used to electrify the shields.

"What are you doing?" Rivra said. "Only the Captain can power that device!"

"I want to try something. Trust me."

"What are you even going to do?"

He didn't answer. It was part instinct, part memory from when he accidentally watched the recording in Lucianna's room. He remembered the energy in his gem leaking out, flowing into the black disk that activated and played the video. He wasn't sure, but he thought he could recreate that, if only for a small moment.

While the Herald was full-tilt plummeting through Scrapstar's upper atmosphere, their pursuers kept a steady pace on them, raining lasers like an extravagant and deadly fireworks show. With his danger sense screaming at him to run, he felt he had to attempt anything that he could to help them escape.

Hand trembling, he jammed his hand into the cylinder, clamping his fingers around the metal rod in its center. He closed his eyes, and tried to remember Riosae's training. He didn't know if there would be any residual power in the gem to even use, but if he could gain an ability like danger sense from just uniting with Lucianna, then it made sense there might be dregs of her energy stirring in the gem. He imagined directing the power, much how Riosae had tried to teach him.

Another bravo of lasers rocked them, his head whiplashing from the impact. Alarms blared and a red light flashed overhead. Milo gritted his teeth.

"Systems are reaching critical status," Faith said over the intercom. "If this keeps up—"

The ship trembled again, a metallic shriek harmonizing with the red alert to form a dooming call and response. Milo grunted as he wrenched his eyes shut again and focused. He could see that room again, the one with the white walls. It seemed familiar, but he had never seen it before. Yet there, in that space, he felt as if everything outside was trivial. In that headspace, he could calmly envision the energy Lucianna possessed as ball of purplish-pink light that flitted around his head. He willed the glowing ball of energy into his palm.

The device around his hand glowed and hummed with electric life. Milo's eyes fluttered open as he stared dumbly at the device. "R-Rivra! I got it to work!"

"Wh-what? How? Wait, never mind that! Put all that power into the thrusters!"

"How do I do that?"

"Just focus! That's all Lucianna does!"

(Just focus? With all the alarms and shaking and whatever the hell that high-pitched screeching is? Sure! What a cake walk!)

The ship had started to wobble like a bike with a broken wheel. Milo's palm was greased with sweat as he gripped the handle inside the metal cylinder. He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes again. And he imagined the power he had pushed into the device redirecting through the ship's wiring, all the way to the thrusters on the back of the ship.

The ship lurched yet again, the wobble graduating into more of a rattle that reminded Milo of a rusted car. He opened his eyes, half-expecting Faith to announce that they would soon be falling out of the atmosphere, to prepare to crash and burn in a twisted heap of slag. His eyes widened as one of the monitors blinked and informed them that the thrusters output had increased by three hundred-percent.

The thrusters sang in a high pitch as the Herald bulleted forward, their pursuers quickly disappearing behind them as their shots strayed far from their mark. Milo's danger sense dimmed, but the alarms of the ship were still blaring, and that metal shrieking from earlier had transformed into more of a percussive clatter. Milo could only assume something had come loose on the ship's exterior.

Faith's voice crackled over the intercom: "We are quickly closing in on our destination. Perhaps a little too quickly."

Milo shook his head, a huge grin on his face. "Not quick enough!"

(Lucianna, if you can hear me…we're coming to save you!)