Captured by the Yandere Space Pirates-Chapter 22 -

"We have no knowledge of that," the commander said, his voice a flat, unyielding slab, his chiseled face betraying no flicker of doubt. "The princess was returning from investigating suspicious activity on an unnamed asteroid near the belt when your people raided her ship." His eyes remained steady, locked on Vera's through the screen, his stern demeanor a wall of authority carved from years of command.

Syn, as he'd been in his mind for a fleeting moment—tilted his head, a sly smirk curling his lips as he stepped forward, his boots echoing faintly on the bridge. "Oh, so that's the story?" he said, his tone laced with a teasing edge that cut through the room's hum. "Then it must mean Princess Elara was spinning tales. I'd love to hear what else she'd say when she finds out her loving father's tossed her and her soldiers aside for a handful of pirates." His words dripped with mockery, his dark eyes glinting as he leaned into the jab, testing the commander's steel.

The commander's jaw tightened, a faint crack in his mask, but he said nothing, his silence a heavy shroud over the screen. After a beat, he straightened, his voice low and measured. "Give me a few more minutes. I'll order the fighter ships to stand down."

Vera's gaze flicked to Syn, a spark of surprise flashing in her eyes before she turned back to the secondary screen, where Pako's wet face still hovered, water dripping from her black bob like a drowned cat. "You heard him, Pako," Vera said, her voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the static. "If those ships stop in the next minute, you hold position and wait for my orders. If not, bring Elara back to base—full speed."

Pako's eyes darted between Vera and Syn, her panic softening into a hesitant nod. "Um... mm... okay," she mumbled, her voice a shaky hum as she wiped a drenched strand from her face. She glanced at Syn again, a flicker of curiosity breaking through her distress, then nodded firmly. "Got it." The commander's screen blinked to hold, the Kingdom's flag reappearing like a silent sentinel, and Pako's image lingered, her wet figure a jittery blur of tension.

Vera spun to face Syn, her purple hair swaying as she fixed him with a stare that mingled confusion and curiosity. "What was that, Syn?" she asked, her voice low, a question she'd held back until the commander's eyes were off them. "Whose side are you on? And what's this about Thebe?" Her tone was steady, but a flicker of doubt shadowed her words—she hadn't hesitated in front of the commander, preserving Syn's enigmatic role, but now, alone with him, the uncertainty spilled out. Below, the crew's murmurs faltered, heads turning upward, their puzzled gazes darting between their captain and the man who'd just shifted the game.

Syn met her stare, his smirk fading into a quieter resolve. "Trust me for now," he said, his voice calm but firm, a hand resting lightly on the console as he leaned in. "I'll explain later—I'm working something out." His mind raced, plotting contingencies if the King doubled down, rejecting this fragile truce. Truthfully, he had no desire to dredge up Thebe's secrets—not with Vera, not yet. The moon's mysteries were a tangle he'd glimpsed in Kingdom briefings, and during his expedition with Elara, and he wasn't ready to unravel them here, not when he knew only parts of the entire mystery.

Vera's eyes narrowed, searching his face, then softened into a faint, knowing smile. "Okay," she said, her tone casual yet threaded with a sincerity that caught him off guard. "But just so you know, I'd trust you even if you led me straight to my doom." Her words hung there, light as a jest but weighted with an unshakable faith, her smile a quiet anchor in the storm.

Syn chuckled, a dry sound that masked the unease her trust stirred. "Don't tempt me—I might just do it," he shot back, his smirk returning as he turned away, his gaze drifting to the screens. He sank back into thought, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the console, mapping out the King's next move. The man's hatred for pirates was a fortress, unyielding, but Elara's presence might just be the crack Syn could pry open—if he played it right.

Minutes ticked by, each second a taut wire stretched across the control room. The crew below worked in hushed urgency, their earlier confusion giving way to a restless suspense, their eyes flicking upward to the bridge. Syn kept a steady watch on Pako's screen, her damp figure pacing nervously, her radar feed a silent pulse in the corner. The fighter ships hadn't budged, their blips frozen on the grid, a standoff teetering on the edge.

The central screen flickered, the Kingdom's flag dissolving as the commander reappeared, his stern face softened by a faint relief that tugged at his weathered features. "The King has reconsidered," he said, his voice steady but lighter, as if a burden had lifted. "We accept the hostage exchange. Return to the exchange point." His eyes, still shadowed with duty, held a glimmer of respite, a crack in the iron will he'd worn moments ago.

"Pako?" Syn called, his voice cutting across to the secondary screen, his tone sharp with expectation as he leaned forward, eyes locked on her dripping form.

She jolted, water still gleaming on her cheeks as she peered at the radar, then back at him. "They're pulling back—it's clear!" she shouted, her voice breaking into a relieved cheer. Below, the control room erupted, a wave of jubilant shouts and claps rippling through the crew. Pirates slapped consoles, grinned at each other, their earlier wariness replaced by a raw, boisterous joy—their comrades were coming home, safe at last.

Syn's smirk widened, a hint of tease creeping into his voice as he turned back to the commander. "So, what swayed the King this time, huh?" His tone danced on the edge of mockery, probing the man's stoic facade one last time.

The commander's brow furrowed, his gaze narrowing as he leaned closer to the screen. "Seriously, who are you?" he asked again, his voice gruff with a mix of curiosity and frustration, his eyes searching Syn's face for a spark of recognition that never came.

Syn's grin sharpened, a silent jab at the years he'd spent unseen in the Kingdom's ranks, but he offered no answer. Instead, he turned to Vera, his hand landing lightly on her shoulder with a casual pat. "You're the captain—take it from here," he said, his voice easy, a relaxed smile softening his features as he stepped back, yielding the bridge to her. Vera blinked, momentarily stunned by the shift—he'd seized the moment, turned the tide, and now handed it back with a cool nonchalance that echoed a past she remembered too well, a déjà vu of the Syn she'd once followed without question.

He descended the stairs, his boots clanging softly against the metal, a quiet pride swelling in his chest. The crew's mood had flipped—where glares had once met him, now came nods of thanks, a few hands clapping his back as he wove through them. "Good call, mate," one muttered, a grizzled pirate with a scarred grin. Another, a wiry woman at a console, flashed him a thumbs-up, her eyes bright with approval. In mere hours, he'd carved a niche among them, a stranger turned ally in their eyes.

"Syn!" Vera's voice rang out, pulling him back as he neared the control room's exit. She'd put the commander on hold again, the Kingdom's flag flickering back to life, and leaned over the bridge's edge, her purple hair cascading like a banner. He stopped, turning to meet her gaze, a brow quirked in question. "What?"

"Don't forget—vanilla!" she called, her voice lilting with a teasing promise, a wink punctuating the words as her smile flashed, bright and sly.

Syn laughed, a genuine burst that echoed through the bustle, warm and unguarded. He shook his head, playing it off as a jest, though her earlier deadpan lingered in his mind—was it a joke, or a vow? With a final grin, he waved her off and stepped out, the control room's clamor fading behind him as he headed toward the kitchen, his stomach rumbling with a hunger he could finally address.

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