Do you want to know what the sound of relief is?
You probably think it is a sigh.
Perhaps the sound of a heart monitor beeping steadily after flatlining, or maybe... for the romantics among you, it is the sound of a lover whispering your name.
You are wrong!
The sound of relief is the sharp, stinging crack of my palm colliding with the cheek of a galaxy-class idiot.
I hit him.
I hit him hard.
I put every ounce of my frustration, my fear, and my sleepless nights into that slap. The sound echoed through the command center of the Xeca, silencing the hum of the ventilation and the gasp of the crew.
Ragia's head snapped to the side. He didn't flinch. He didn't try to dodge. He just took it, letting the force of the blow turn his face away from me.
For a second, nobody moved. The silence was heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and the sudden spike in my own adrenaline.
Slowly, Ragia turned back to face me. There was a bright red handprint blossoming on his cheek, contrasting sharply with the dark stubble of his jaw. He reached up, touching the spot gingerly with his thumb.
He looked at me with those golden, infuriatingly human eyes.
"I deserved that," he said. His voice was rough, like gravel tumbling down a mountainside.
"Yes," I choked out. "You did."
And then, my resolve shattered.
This Ice Queen melted. This Vice Captain... vanished.
I threw myself at him.
I didn't care about the regulations. I didn't care that my entire squad was watching. I didn't care that I was supposed to be the pillar of discipline on this chaotic metal tube.
I slammed into his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck, and buried my face in the crook of his shoulder. He smelled like leather, like stale prison air, and beneath it all... that deep, earthy musk that was purely, undeniably male.
He wasn't a Queen. He wasn't a monster. He was just a man.
My man...
"I hate you," I sobbed into his jacket. "I hate you so much, Ragia."
"I know, Iya," he whispered, wrapping his big, warm arms around my waist. He pulled me off the floor, holding me tight against him. "I know."
I pulled back just enough to look at him. My vision was blurry with tears, but I didn't wipe them away. I grabbed his face, my fingers digging into his hair... his short, black, wonderfully normal hair, and I kissed him.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It wasn't the kind of kiss you see in the holovids where the music swells and the camera pans away.
It was messy. It was desperate. It was a collision of teeth and tongues and salt. I devoured him. I wanted to taste the life in him. I wanted to make sure he was real, that he wasn't going to dissolve into red dust or grow a tail the moment I let go.
He kissed me back with the same hunger. He groaned low in his throat, a vibration that traveled straight through my chest and settled heavy and hot in my womb.
We stood there, locked together in the center of the bridge, ignoring the world.
"Ahem..."
The sound cut through the haze like a scalpel.
I broke the kiss, gasping for air, but I didn't let go of him. I turned my head, glaring daggers at the source of the interruption.
Prof was standing there. Her glasses were sliding down her nose, and she was holding her datapad like a shield.
"Vice," she said, her voice trying for clinical detachment but failing. "While the restoration of the Captain's biological functions is... clearly optimal... there are logistical variables that remain unexplained."
"She means," Chef piped up from the floor, wiping her eyes with her apron, "How the hell did you get out, Capt? You were in Tartarus. That place is supposed to be inescapable."
Ragia laughed.
He shifted his weight, keeping one arm firmly around my waist as if he needed me to keep him upright.
"Well," Ragia said, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "It turns out, even the Reagalus High Council has a weakness. Bureaucracy..."
"And nepotism."
"Nepotism?" I frowned, wiping a stray tear from my cheek.
"I had a visitor," Ragia explained. "About an hour after they threw me in the hole. A Supreme Commander. Big guy. Scary. Looks like he eats tanks for breakfast."
He pointed to his left eye.
I hadn't noticed it before, blinded by the relief of seeing him, but there was a bruise forming there. A nasty, purple welt that looked painful.
"He gave me this as a 'get out of jail' present," Ragia chuckled. "Said it was a down payment for the headache... I caused him."
"A Commander punched you?" Navi asked, spinning her chair around. "Why?"
"Because," Ragia shrugged, looking specifically at...
Private.
"Apparently, he takes issue with the fact that I have been sleeping with his daughter."
The room went dead silent.
We all looked at Private.
Private was sitting on the floor, still clutching the leg of the command chair. She looked at the bruise on Ragia's face. Then she looked at his temple.
"He hit you hard, huh?" Private giggled.
"Like a freight train," Ragia admitted.
Private stood up and walked over to him. She stood on her tiptoes, peering closely at the side of his head. I followed her gaze. There, fading but visible on Ragia's temple, was a faint imprint. It looked like the residue of a heavy ring or a signet that had been pressed into his skin by the force of the blow.
It was a skull.
A skull with seven twisted horns. I felt a chill run down my spine. That symbol. It wasn't just a military rank. It was a crest.
The crest of... the Quarso family.
"Silly Papa," Private whispered, tracing the bruise with her small finger. "He is so... clak-clak with his fists."
"Wait," Chef gasped. "Liquida Quarso? The Supreme Commander of Earth Defense? Your... your father?"
"Unfortunately," Ragia sighed. "The old man pulled some strings. He guaranteed my release on the condition that I am 'monitored' and 'rehabilitated'."
"Rehabilitated?" I asked, my voice sharp. "From what? Saving the galaxy?"
"From being a loose cannon," Ragia corrected. "And apparently, from being a 'pervert who corrupts his own bloodline'."
"According to him..."