Distraction

They shoved the Krothian into the corridor with a boot to its backplate, watching it stagger into the neon-lit chaos of Freeport's lower decks. Adam wiped ichor from his forearm. "That was... suspiciously easy." Susan licked the glowing green fluid off her knife and immediately gagged. "Tastes like battery acid and regret."

Their hotel room smelled of sex and damp metal as Susan flopped onto the thin mattress, her bruises already purpling. Adam kicked a discarded needler pistol under the cot before joining her, their sweat-slick limbs tangling instinctively. "So." He traced the fresh claw marks on her ribs. "We storm a warlord's hideout tomorrow. With no plan." Susan nuzzled into his collarbone, her breath warm against his skin. "Correction—you storm in. I'll be the distraction."

Adam's chuckle vibrated through her cheek. "Let me guess. Naked distraction?" Susan's grin was all teeth in the dim glow of emergency lighting. "Only if you're lucky."

Sleep took them in uneven shifts—Susan twitching at every distant shout, Adam's fingers never far from the vibro-blade under his pillow. The station's artificial night cycle flickered outside their rusted viewport, casting jagged shadows across Susan's back where the Voraxian's fingerprints had begun blooming like dark flowers.