"They adore her," Talia smiled, looking over at Kami who watched them with a look of pure contentment. "And I think she adores you. She hasn't looked this relaxed or happy in years. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it."

  As the suns finally dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in lavish shades of violet and orange that reflected off the water, the group packed up their towels and toys. The girls hugged Damien’s legs, soaking his pants and demanding he return tomorrow for more throws, before Talia herded them back to their suite for bed.

  Damien and Kami walked back to their own private bungalow, a secluded structure perched on stilts above the crashing waves, connected to the main resort by a swinging rope bridge. Kami leaned heavily against him, her steps slightly unsteady from the day's indulgences and the relaxation that seeped into her bones.

  "You survived the inquisition," Kami mumbled into his shoulder as he keyed the biometric lock on the door. "My nieces approved of you. That represents a higher clearance level than my security team grants to most applicants."

  "They just liked that I can throw them ten feet in the air without a break," Damien chuckled, guiding her inside and locking the door behind them to shut out the world. "They really have boundless energy.” He inspected the lavish room, and somewhat blurted. “How much did this trip really cost you, Kami? Be honest."

  Kami pulled away, walking to the minibar and pouring herself a glass of water with a shaking hand. "I paid for everything. The suites, the private flight, the food. Talia... She works hard, but she doesn't have my resources or my salary. I wanted them to see something beautiful for once. To be fair, I also wanted this. Us."

  “Oh,” Damien whispered. “The last five days with you falling asleep in my arms have been amazing. I may not have the bartender in me that I thought I did, but this trip has been amazing. You have been amazing.”

  She turned to face him, her expression vulnerable and searching. "Does that bother you? That I have this much wealth? That I can buy a week on a resort moon without checking my account balance?"

  Damien laughed, a genuine, deep sound that filled the room and chased away the shadows. "Kami, I hunt monsters for a living. I literally rip fortune out of the ground with my bare hands while things try to eat me. Wealth doesn't intimidate me. Generosity impresses me. You taking care of your family? That’s the most attractive thing I’ve seen all day."

  “Good answer, even if I think this bathing suit does wonders for my figure,” Kami joked, slightly jumping so her assets bounced in all the right ways.

  They were dating, on vacation, and their reset had gone a decent way to helping him build feelings for her as more than a fling based around sex… but he still really did want to devour her.

  He stepped closer, trapping her gently against the counter with his hands on either side of her waist. "But I should warn you. My shift at the bar proved interesting. Two very wealthy, very persistent women offered to show me their jacuzzi and their impressive collection of Martian wines. I declined, but it seems I have a market value outside of killing things."

  Kami’s eyes darkened, a flash of possessiveness replacing the vulnerability in her emerald gaze. "And you told them no?"

  "I told them I had a better view waiting for me right here," Damien confirmed, running a hand down her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin. "I’m not a player, Kami. I don't chase every shiny thing, and I chose to be here with you."

  "Am I doing a good job?" Kami asked, her voice dropping to a husky whisper as she set the glass down on the counter. "As a fill-in girlfriend?"

  "You’re the best I’ve ever had, fill-in or otherwise," Damien said, leaning down to kiss the sensitive spot on her neck. "You’re very skilled at being useful, and I know, it’s your job, but applying it to me… Well, I could get used to having you around, which represents a dangerous thought for a man in my profession."

  "Then let me make sure you don't forget me when you go back to the mud and the blood," Kami said, pushing him gently toward the living area.

  She guided him to the plush sofa that faced the panoramic window, pushing him down until he sat watching the ocean churn under the moonlight, the waves cresting in silver foam. The view was breathtaking, but Damien’s attention remained focused entirely on the woman standing between his knees.

  Kami reached up, gathering her raven hair into a messy ponytail, binding the strands back with a swift, practiced motion that exposed the elegant, vulnerable line of her neck. Her emerald eyes locked onto his, burning with intent as she dropped to her knees on the soft rug between his legs.

  "Watch the ocean, Damien," she commanded softly, her hands moving to the waistband of his shorts with deliberate slowness. "Enjoy the view while I take care of you."

  She pulled the swimshorts down, freeing him into the cool air of the room before taking him into the warmth of her mouth. Damien groaned, his head falling back against the cushions, his hands gripping the back of the sofa as the sensation washed over him like a tide.

  Ten minutes of pleasure later, she glanced up at him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, a satisfied, mischievous smirk playing on her lips.

  "Is being cared for so bad?" she asked, her voice rough and breathless.

  "Divine!" Damien breathed, pulling her up into his arms and settling her onto his lap. "Come get some of those snuggles you crave, darling."

  She curled into his larger frame, fitting perfectly in his lap while he held her close, stroking her hair. She cooed with legitimate happiness, resting her head on his shoulder as the excitement faded into contentment. Damien smirked as they sat there in the dark, the sound of the ocean filling the silence, two people finding a piece of paradise before duty called them back.

  Chapter 24

  The Shattered Geography

  The transition back to the orbital station struck Damien with a distinct, sharp sense of isolation that the artificial gravity only seemed to amplify, pressing down on his shoulders like a physical burden.

  He stepped off the civilian transport shuttle alone, his battered duffel bag slung over one shoulder, carrying the lingering, briny scent of salt water and roasted shellfish that clashed aggressively with the station’s sterile, recycled perfume of industrial lubricant.

  The relaxation of the past week still hummed in his veins, a low-level serotonin buzz that softened the harsh edges of the metallic corridor, but the soldier within him was already waking up, shedding the lethargy of peace like a snake shedding old skin to reveal the hardened armor underneath.

  Parker wouldn't be joining him for the initial briefing; a message waiting on Damien’s datapad confirmed that his partner had extended his leave to attend his daughter’s graduation ceremony on Mars, a rare family milestone that he could actually attend.

  For the first time in months, Damien walked the steel plates of the promenade without his heavy shadow, a realization that made the corridor feel wider, colder, and the shadows deeper. He navigated the bustling crowd with practiced indifference, noting the influx of new recruits who looked too young, too clean, and too eager to be heading toward the surface of a death world that would chew them up and spit them out before lunch.

  He didn't bother returning to his apartment to unpack his civilian clothes; the summons from Director Sterling had arrived with a priority code that bypassed the usual administrative queues and demanded immediate attention.

  It acted as a digital red carpet rolled out for the man who had brought a fortune in ancient tech and Spark to the company’s vault during his last rotation, a signal that his vacation had officially expired.

  When the lift deposited him in the executive antechamber, the atmosphere shifted instantly from functional military industrialism to the hushed, expensive silence of absolute corporate power. The secretary, a synthetic with flawless skin and eyes that glowed a soft, subservient blue, nodded him toward the inner sanctum without asking for identification, knowing better than to delay a Raider of his standing with bureaucratic trivialities.

  Director Sterling waited for him not behind her desk, but standing before the massive panoramic window that dominated the far wall, her silhouette framed against the swirling green and blue marble of Wesley below.

  She wore a suit of charcoal gray silk that shimmered with embedded optical fibers, a garment that projected authority and wealth in equal measure, shifting colors slightly as she moved.

  "You look remarkably rested for a man who usually carries the weight of the world on his armor," Sterling commented, turning to face him with a smile that was sharp enough to cut glass and twice as dangerous. "I trust the resort moon provided adequate distractions from the grim reality of our profession?"

  He grunted, not surprised at all that she tracked him. In fact, it was very hard to stay hidden in these modern times, except when on Wesley.

  "The ocean does wonders for the soul, Director, and the lack of things trying to eat me was a refreshing change of pace," Damien replied, dropping his bag by the door with a heavy thud and stepping further into the room. "But Parker is still planetside with his family, so if you called me up here for a heavy assault contract, I’m afraid I’m currently a solo act."

  "A solo act might be exactly what the situation requires, though that is a discussion for later," Sterling said, gesturing toward the center of the room where a massive holographic table lay dormant. "But first, we must discuss the future of the operation. The rotation schedule has advanced ahead of projections. The jungle sectors are officially locked down for regeneration protocols. The atmospheric scrubbers are offline, and the localized storms are already moving in to water the crops. For the next three months, operations shift entirely to the Shattered Isles. After that, the Frozen Jungles of Wesley, which always see a terrible retention issue. That’s a future me problem though."

  She tapped a command on her wrist comp, and the table hummed to life, projecting a high-fidelity, three-dimensional rendering of a massive archipelago located in the planet's southern hemisphere. The islands were enormous, sprawling landmasses that looked like the shattered fragments of a continent that had been broken by a titan’s hammer eons ago and scattered across a turbulent sea.

  "Welcome to the Shattered Isles," Sterling announced, her fingers dancing through the light to manipulate the view and rotate the archipelago. "Five primary landmasses, each distinct, each deadly, and each completely untouched by human hands for a full solar year. The Spark deposits have had twelve months to grow, crystallize, and mature without interruption or harvesting. Since you are operating alone for the moment, you need to know the terrain intimately before you even consider dropping."

  She expanded the hologram, isolating the northernmost island in the chain. It was a crescent-shaped landmass that glowed with a harsh, amber light, dominated by shifting dunes.

  "Island One: The Searing Expanse," Sterling began, the data scrolling next to the projection in streams of blue text. "This biome mimics a coastal desert, but with the humidity of a sauna. The sand here is composed of crushed silica and magnetized iron, which creates shifting dunes that can swallow a walker whole if the pilot isn't paying attention. During the day, the temperature spikes to fifty degrees Celsius, requiring upgraded thermal regulation in your suits to prevent heatstroke. At night, it drops below freezing, cracking ceramic plates that haven't been treated for thermal shock."

  “Definitely different from the thousand-foot-tall trees,” Damien commented.

  She zoomed in on the terrain, revealing deep fissures in the sandstone cliffs that lined the coast. "The Spark here grows in subterranean crystal caverns beneath the dunes, fed by mineral-rich aquifers that boil up from the mantle. However, do not make the mistake of assuming the open terrain grants you a clear line to the station. The high Spark density within the aquifers generates an atmospheric ionization layer that mimics the interference of the jungle canopy. Your radios will remain strictly short-range. If you scream for help in the dunes, I assure you that no one in orbit will hear you."

  “Nothing worthwhile is ever easy,” Damien quoted.

  She brought up a dossier on a creature that looked like a shark made of sandpaper and serrated teeth. "But the sand itself is the danger. We have identified a dominant predator: the Dune-Maw. It swims through the sand like a shark tracks prey in water, sensing vibrations from kilometers away. It possesses a circular mouth lined with thousands of grinding teeth capable of chewing through plasteel armor in seconds. You will need seismic dampeners on your boots, and you absolutely cannot run unless you want to ring the dinner bell."

  Damien studied the topography, noting the lack of cover and the long sightlines. "It’s a sniper’s paradise if you have the high ground on those cliffs, but a death trap in the valleys. I’ll need long-range optics and thermal baffles if I drop there."

  Sterling shrugged. “All the fighting is subterranean in close quarters. Get off the dunes and into the dark ASAP.”

  Sterling swiped the image away, replacing it with a menacing, towering island of black rock that rose from the churning ocean like a fortress wall. Smoke plumes drifted from the central peaks, obscuring the terrain.

  "Island Two: The Obsidian Atoll," she continued, highlighting the volcanic activity. "The ground here is unstable, riddled with active lava tubes and sulfuric vents that spew toxic gas. The Spark forms in geode-like clusters inside the cooling vents, requiring high-temperature extraction gear and a disregard for personal safety. The air quality is toxic; your rebreathers will need acid-scrubbing filters just to keep your lungs from melting."

  She highlighted a series of heavy, fortified structures on the map, marking them in hostile red. "Iron-Clad Heavy Industries has claimed the majority of the mining rights here. Their heavy suits are the only ones that can withstand the ambient heat of the lava flows for extended periods. They will defend their claims aggressively against any interlopers. The local fauna includes Magma-Crabs—armored crustaceans that hide in the lava and ambush prey with superheated claws. They are slow, but nearly invulnerable to small and medium arms fire."

  "Smart move on Iron-Clad's part to lock down the hardest environment," Damien muttered, analyzing the defensive perimeters. "Let them cook in their cans while I find easier pickings elsewhere."

  "We have secured primary rights to the next two islands," Sterling said, bringing up a deceptively beautiful landscape of white sand beaches and turquoise lagoons backed by towering limestone cliffs.

  "Island Three: The Azure Coast," Sterling explained, the hologram shimmering like water. "This looks like a paradise, but it requires amphibious operations. The Spark here grows in the coral reefs and the tidal caves that flood with every cycle. You will be fighting the tides as much as the monsters. The water is corrosive due to high salt and mineral content, so waterproof seals are mandatory."

  The hologram shifted to show the water teeming with predatory shapes. "Expect Tidal-Stalkers, pack hunters that can breathe both air and water. They ambush from the surf, dragging their prey down to drown them in the deep trenches. They are fast, intelligent, and they use the water to mask their approach. You will need underwater propulsion assist and sonar imaging to survive the reefs. This island is technically ours, but we open rights to it for anyone who promises they won’t shoot other raiders. Since there is limited obscuration, and video can generally see into the water for large parts, it's generally just raiders vs monsters to get the spark, making it a highly desired drop."

  "And the fourth island?" Damien asked, pointing to the largest landmass in the chain, a dense, dark green mass of tropical vegetation that looked foreboding even in hologram form.

  "Island Four: The Verdant Reach," Sterling said, expanding the view to show trees that dwarfed the mainland variants. "This is a concentrated version of the hell you just left, but with verticality that defies gravity. The canopy is three kilometers high, layered with distinct ecosystems. The Spark density here is projected to be the highest in the chain, growing in the upper branches like fruit waiting to be plucked. This is off limits to other corps, but they still infiltrate into it, defying the rules set by the coalition."

  She highlighted the flora, which pulsed with aggressive red indicators. "The danger here isn't just the beasts; it’s the plants. Siren-Vines use pheromones to lure prey into crushing embraces. Spore-Shooters can punch through light armor with biological flechettes. And Yeka wants to hunt the 'Jungle King,' a rumored apex avian predator that stalks the upper canopy. She has requested a vibranium-tipped spear for the occasion."

  "Of course she wants to fight a giant bird with a stick," Damien sighed, rubbing his temples at the thought of keeping the heiress alive. "I assume I am dropping there first?"

  "That is the plan," Sterling confirmed. "But there is one more island you need to be aware of."

  She pointed to the central mass, a brooding, storm-shrouded island that seemed to sit in the eye of a permanent hurricane, the clouds rotating slowly around a dark center.

  "Island Five: The Eye," Sterling said, pointing to the center of the holographic storm where the air appeared preternaturally clear. "This defies the logic of the rest of the chain. It sits in the dead center of the hurricane, yet the air there is perfectly still. No wind, no magnetic interference, and crystal-clear comms. It is the easiest place to land and the easiest place to extract—and the largest land mass with the most Spark."

  Damien frowned, looking at the pristine data readings. "There's a 'but' coming. It sounds too good."

  "The 'but' is that, because it is logistically perfect, the Coalition declared it an Open Zone," Sterling explained, her voice hardening. "All eight corporations have unlimited access. No treaties, no non-aggression pacts. It is a constant, churning war zone. The Spark grows in massive pillars there, easy to harvest, but you have to step over the bodies of a thousand other raiders to get to it. It is the most interesting and deadly place on the planet, not because of the monsters, but because of the greed. Most corps use it to bleed rival corps dry. If you drop there, you’re dropping into a shit show."