His Rival

Going Down in Flames

Hey guys, Jess here!

This time I did something extra special, I made an edit for my chapter image since I couldn't find a single canon one that fit.

This chapter is somewhat shorter (26 pages/ 8,822 words), but it's still quite significant. So please take breaks as needed.

If you have any questions or comments about this chapter, let me know; I'd like to hear from you!

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

According to the Altean clock on your slate, it had been another nine vargas since you laid down last night. And you had hardly slept a wink of it, surprise surprise. You let out a low, fatigued groan as you staggered out of bed, using the headboard and the nearby walls to keep yourself from passing out right then and there.

It was even more of a struggle to keep your eyelids open with how intense the dull aching of your head was, etching a pained grimace onto your face. It was like a storm was brewing inside of you, spawning dark waves that relentlessly crashed against your skull, their powerful impacts resounding through your ears as your mind grew dangerously numb.

Desperate for an end to this madness, you grasped the energy drink on the makeshift nightstand, ingesting a few more of the cough suppressors before downing the rest of the can, the liquid stinging your parched throat. But it still wasn't enough. And to make matters worse, you soon came to realize that there was no more to be found.

Of course, your entire stock of energy drinks just so happened to be in the exact location that you told Ezor and Zethrid where your slate was. Those darn space pirates... they had cleared your entire stock! Quiznack, out of everything they could've stolen, they had to deprive you of the very substance that you had been living off of. Looks like you'd have to find some way to live without it.

As you started to head to your cockpit, you emitted a second exasperated groan that soon morphed into shivers as icy tremors shot up your spine, stumbling as every inch of your body trembled from the cold. Instinctively, you flung a blanket around your cowering form, clutching it to your neck as you trudged onwards.

All the while, sweat was profusely running down your chilled face. You didn't need a mirror to know how flaming red it was, you could feel the heat rushing through your veins just as intensely as the cold. Your fever had gotten so severe that you couldn't even bear to wear your armor anymore, the black slip underneath plastered to your scorching skin. If all that wasn't enough, your stomach was continuously doing flips, it's acid gnawing at your insides.

You couldn't remember the last time you had felt so terrible, but you had to push onwards. Your team was depending on you, the Garrison was depending on you, and so was the rest of the universe. Before you could help any of them though, you needed to get more supplies. So today, you were all heading to a deserted swamp moon, hoping that it'd have what you needed.

No one said a word as the grey sphere drew closer. Besides the propulsion of your engines, everything was quiet and still. Too quiet. Your jaw tightened as your vision grew fuzzy, a rush of haziness engulfing you as the planet shifted out of focus.

A similar jolt of ice flooded your systems as you glanced ahead, everything freezing as you identified the monster standing in front of you. It was the same face, the same piercing mauve eyes that you've seen in countless nightmares. You emitted a strangled gasp as your breath caught in your throat, blinking as you stared aghast at James.

"Wha-how did you get in here?!" you exclaimed, unable to breathe as you failed to process what you were seeing. James, the same guy who had been your other half for years, was in your cockpit. Stunned was an understatement for the pure and utter shock that was keeping you glued to your seat, so perplexed that your hoarse voice was barely audible. Somehow, he was still able to hear it, his expression falling as he drew closer.