Hearts Across the Frontier

A Tale of Love in the 'Corvus Belli Infinity Universe'...

Convergence

Death rode the badlands wind. Moira MacLeod tasted its copper promise as she crested the ridge above New Prosperity, where smoke rose like prayers to gods who'd stopped listening.

Below her, the mining settlement sprawled like a wounded animal against Dawn's rust-coloured earth, fires burning unchecked between empty buildings.

Her great-grandmother's claymore hummed softly in the Teseum-charged air while her modified hunting rifle rested easy in her hands. Both weapons had drunk Antipode blood during the long wars, and Moira suspected they thirsted again.

Something had gone grievously wrong in New Prosperity.

"Christ on a crutch," a voice muttered behind her. American accent, flavoured with the distinctive drawl of the mining territories.

"What kind of hell did we walk into?"

Moira turned with measured grace. Six feet away — exactly six feet, as the mission briefing had specified — a man emerged from the boulder field. Tall, lean, moving with the controlled precision of someone who'd learned that careless steps got you killed in hostile territory.

"Jake Martinez, I presume," she said, her Highland accent lending formal music to the words.

"Though I'd heard you were tracking prey, not investigating plague sites."

"Mission parameters shifted on me," Jake replied, settling into a crouch that maintained their prescribed distance. His dark eyes catalogued the settlement below with professional intensity.

"Target turned up dead from the same plague that's wiping out everyone else. You'd be the clan scout they sent to guide the medical team through."

"The medical team that never arrived." Moira studied his face — strong jaw, laughter lines around intelligent eyes, the kind of steady presence that made her chest tighten with unexpected warmth.

"Solar storm interference knocked out long-range comms three days back."

Jake's rifle scope swept across the settlement's perimeter.

"Movement at two o'clock. Human, but..." He paused, adjusting the focus.

"Jesus. Look at that poor bastard."

A man stumbled between the buildings, his movements jerky and uncontrolled. Even at this distance, she could see the telltale signs — skin flushed crimson with subcutaneous bleeding, aggressive posture, the predatory way he turned toward sounds.

"Crimson Fever," she said softly.

"My grandmother told stories about the deep wilderness plague, but I'd never witnessed it myself."

"Your family's oral tradition cover treatment options?" Jake's question carried no mockery, just professional interest that surprisingly made her pulse quicken.

"Umm… Highland moss, processed with Teseum-charged water from the sacred springs. But the nearest moss beds are fifty kilometers into traditional Antipode hunting grounds."

Jake lowered his rifle with a soft curse. "According to my intel briefing, we've got maybe six days before this plague spreads beyond the settlement boundaries."

Moira felt responsibility settle across her shoulders like clan colours.

"Then we'd best be moving. But Jake — there's something you should know. My sources suggest this outbreak wasn't natural."

His expression sharpened. "Explain."

"Dr. Sarah Chang — supposedly USAriadnan Medical Research Foundation, but her credentials felt wrong. The kind of wrong that gets Caledonian intelligence networks talking to each other across clan lines."

The implications hit Jake like ice water. "You're saying a Yu Jing operative caused this outbreak?"

"I'm saying we need to find out before we go charging off into Antipode country."

Moira's hand found her sidearm instinctively.

"If this plague was engineered, traditional cures might not work. And if it was designed to target Ariadnan physiology..."

Jake stared down at New Prosperity where death walked between silent buildings.

"Where's this laboratory?"

"Two kilometers northeast. Hidden in an old mining complex." Moira watched his profile as he calculated distances and risks, noting the way his jaw tightened with determination.

God, he's beautiful when he's thinking.

"More dangerous than letting a plague spread across the continent?" she asked when he hesitated.

Jake's smile was dry as desert wind. "Hell, I've been chewing on that question since we first spotted the settlement."

They moved down the ridge in carefully coordinated silence, and Moira found herself hyperaware of Jake's presence exactly six feet away. The way he moved, economical and graceful. The sound of his breathing. The careful way he avoided even accidental contact while still protecting her flanks.

This is madness, she thought. I'm falling for a man I can't even touch.

The Laboratory

The abandoned mining complex squatted against the hillside like a metallic infection. Scorch marks and blast damage told the story of recent violence, while the main entrance hung open, its security doors torn from their mounts by massive claws.

"Antipodes," Jake muttered, examining the gouges.

"Big ones. And recent."

Inside, emergency lighting cast red shadows across overturned equipment. Moira knelt beside dried blood that painted abstract patterns across the laboratory floor.

"Two different types. Human blood here, but this..." She indicated streaks of lighter red that seemed to shimmer.

"I've never seen anything like it."

"Lab equipment's been trashed, but some computer systems might still be functional." Jake's voice carried from deeper in the building, tight with tension.

"Moira, you need to see this."

She found him standing before flickering monitors displaying research notes in multiple languages. Medical terminology mixed with Chinese characters and symbols she didn't recognise.

"Can you read any of this?"

Moira studied the text, her pulse accelerating as she translated.

"Medical terminology, references to native pathogens and... weapons applications. This researcher was trying to weaponise Ariadnan diseases."

"Gets worse." Jake indicated another screen showing personnel files.

"Dr. Lin Lu-Ming — her real name, according to these records. This research has been going on for over two years. She wasn't just studying local diseases. She was modifying them to target Ariadnan genetic markers specifically."

The implications hit Moira like a physical blow.

"The traditional cures..."

"Might be completely useless," Jake finished grimly.

"Or they could accelerate the infection."

A sound from outside interrupted them — something large moving through the complex. Both took cover instinctively, weapons ready.

"Antipodes?" Moira asked, acutely aware of Jake's body heat six feet away.

Jake consulted his scanner.

"Biological signatures are wrong. These are bigger than normal, and they're not just hunting as a coordinated pack. Antipodes don't usually show this level of tactical organisation."

Heavy footsteps reverberated through the facility's corridors, accompanied by guttural communication that might have been language. Through damaged windows, Moira glimpsed movement in the shadows — large shapes moving with predatory patience.

A massive form appeared in the doorway — nearly three meters tall, covered in fur that shifted from gray to mottled red. Its eyes held an intelligence that normal Antipodes lacked, and when it smiled, the expression was disturbingly human.

"Human... hunters... cannot... hide..." The voice was like gravel grinding against steel.

"Pack... knows... all... paths..."

Moira triggered her rifle's special T2 ammunition, putting three shots center mass. The creature staggered but didn't fall, its enhanced physiology absorbing punishment that would have dropped a normal predator.

"Back exit, now!" she shouted, laying down covering fire as Jake gathered critical data.

They burst through the laboratory's rear entrance into Dawn's golden twilight, the pack's howls reverberating behind them. But as they ran for broken terrain, Jake's analysis proved correct — they weren't just being hunted. They were being herded.

"They're driving us toward the settlement," Moira realised with growing horror.

"They want us to get infected."

"Son of a bitch. They're not just protecting territory — they're trying to spread the plague."

Revelations

They found shelter in lava flow formations ten kilometers from the complex. While Jake analysed the stolen data by shielded lamplight, Moira maintained watch, her heart hammering every time she caught sight of his concentrated frown.

"This is worse than I thought," Jake muttered after an hour of study.

"Dr. Lin was creating hybrid organisms specifically designed to target Ariadnan genetic markers. The pathogen spreads through direct skin contact, making it nearly impossible to treat infected family members without becoming infected yourself."

Moira felt the temperature drop. "Forcing communities to choose between compassion and survival."

"And according to her timeline, we've both been exposed during our initial reconnaissance three days ago. Six to eight days before symptoms manifest, maybe less under stress."

The words hung between them like a death sentence. Six days. Maybe less. And they couldn't touch, couldn't comfort each other, couldn't even share the simple human contact that might make facing death bearable.

"There's an old Teseum processing facility thirty kilometers northeast," Moira said finally, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest.

"Abandoned for a decade, but the equipment might still be functional. If we could access the underground springs that fed the original operations..."

"Combine that with highland moss from the foothills rather than the deep territories," Jake continued, understanding immediately.

"It's not traditional, but the framework's solid."

"It's our only realistic option." Moira met his eyes across their careful separation, noting how the lamplight caught the gold flecks in his dark irises.

"But we'd need to split up. Create a diversion to draw the pack away from the facility."

Jake studied topographical data on his scanner.

"What if I make them think I'm heading for the traditional spring sites while you approach the facility from the opposite direction?"

The tactical logic was sound, but the thought of separating from Jake made her chest ache with unexpected intensity. Three days working together, and already his presence felt as necessary as breathing.

"It could work," she admitted reluctantly.

"But we'd need to coordinate movements without being able to communicate once we separate."

"Highland signal methods? Reflected light, arranged stones?"

Despite their dire situation, Moira smiled.

"My great-grandmother would approve. She always said the old ways would prove their worth when modern technology failed us."

They spent the next two hours planning their deception, using Dr. Lin's research data to predict enhanced Antipode behavior. And with each passing minute, Moira became increasingly aware of Jake's presence across their six-foot separation — the way he frowned when concentrating on technical problems, the unconscious grace with which he handled equipment, the dry humour that surfaced when discussing their impossible situation.

"You know," he said during a brief pause in their planning, his voice carefully casual, "in all my years bounty hunting, I've never worked with a partner I couldn't touch."

The simple words hit her like a physical blow, laying bare the frustration they'd obviously both been feeling.

"There's a difference between chosen solitude and enforced separation."

"Yeah," Jake agreed quietly, his eyes finding hers in the lamplight.

"Hell of a difference."

Silence stretched between them like a held breath, charged with awareness of things that couldn't be said directly. They were facing probable death, infected with a plague that would kill them regardless of mission success, and unable to offer each other even the simple comfort of human contact.

"When this is over," Jake said finally, his voice rough with emotion he couldn't quite hide, "assuming we both survive and find a cure that works on our own infections... what then?"

Moira's heart clenched at the vulnerability in his question.

"I suppose we'd find out if what we're feeling can survive without the immediate threat of death."

"Hell of a foundation for a relationship."

"But not necessarily a bad one. We've seen each other under pressure, trusted each other with our lives, worked together toward something bigger than personal interest." She paused, gathering courage.

"Some marriages have been built on less substantial ground."

"Marriages," Jake repeated, something shifting in his voice.

"That's one god damned hell of a word to throw around when we haven't even touched hands."

"Is it? In Highland traditions, marriage is about choosing to bind your fate to another person's, to share burdens and joys regardless of circumstances. Physical attraction is pleasant, but it's not essential for a lasting partnership."

Jake was quiet for several minutes, apparently digesting this concept.

Finally, he said, "Back in Crater Ridge, we had a saying: 'You know someone's marriage material when you'd trust them to watch your back in Antipode country.'"

"Are we watching each other's backs?" Moira asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Every day since we met," Jake replied without hesitation, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her ache.

I'm falling in love with you, she thought desperately. And I might die before I can tell you.

The Parting

Dawn's twin suns rose like golden coins tossed across amber silk, painting the badlands in shades of fire and honey. They reached the branching point where their paths would diverge — a natural rock formation where clan markers indicated routes to different sacred sites.

"Mirror flash at solar noon," Jake confirmed, shouldering his pack with practiced efficiency. But he hesitated, studying her face with a passion that made her breath catch.

"Moira—"

"Wait." His voice was thick with emotion he struggled to contain. He reached into his pack, producing a small object that gleamed in the morning light. A compass, brass and steel, worn smooth by generations of use.

"This belonged to my grandfather. He carried it through the colonial wars, said it always brought him home safe."

Moira stared at the offered compass, her chest beating loudly with emotions she couldn't name.

"Jake, I can't... we can't risk contact..."

"You don't have to touch it directly." His voice cracked slightly.

"Use a cloth, anything. But I want you to carry something of mine. So you know..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort.

"So you know you're not alone out there."

With trembling hands, Moira used a strip of fabric torn from her sleeve to take the compass, feeling the weight of his trust settling into her palm. The metal was still warm from his touch, and she had to blink back sudden tears.

"I have something too." She fumbled for the silver locket at her throat — her grandmother's blessing, worn for protection during dangerous travels.

"Clan lore holds that shared tokens weave destinies together. Even when..." She gestured at the space between them.

Jake accepted the locket the same way, using his own cloth barrier, but their eyes met as he lifted it carefully to his eye. The chain caught the morning light, and Moira felt something shift between them — a promise deeper than words, more binding than any formal vow.

"When this is over," she said, her voice now completely breaking, "when we can touch..."

"I'll be there," Jake promised fiercely.

"Whatever it takes, however long — I'll be there. You hear me? I'll be there."

The raw emotion in his voice nearly undid her completely.

They separated then, each carrying a piece of the other's heart into dangerous territory, and Moira had to force herself not to look back. If she saw his face one more time, she might lose her resolve entirely.

The Cure

The abandoned Teseum facility appeared through highland forests like a metallic growth, its modular structures designed for efficiency rather than beauty. Moira approached with tactical caution, Jake's compass warm against her palm through the protective fabric. Just touching something he'd carried made her feel less alone.

The underground springs were still flowing, carrying mineral content that clan lore promised could neutralise exotic pathogens. Working by instinct and half-remembered traditions, she coaxed the machinery back to life, her grandmother's voice threading through her memory: "The old ways adapt, child. They bend but never break."

At solar noon, she climbed to the facility's observation tower and used her polished metal signal mirror. Three long flashes, pause, three short flashes, pause, three long flashes again. The traditional Highland signal for "proceeding as planned."

After a tense minute that felt like hours, she saw the answering pattern from the distant ridge. Jake was alive and successfully drawing attention toward the False Springs. Relief coursed through her so intensely she had to grip the tower railing for support.

But then she heard sounds that made her blood run cold. Howls carrying across the highland valleys — not simple hunting calls, but complex vocalisations that suggested communication between multiple groups. Some of the enhanced pack had been left behind to guard against exactly the kind of deception she and Jake were attempting.

She had perhaps an hour before hostile Antipodes reached the facility. One hour to complete synthesis and prepare for a fighting withdrawal that would probably end with her death.

But I'll complete the mission first. For Jake. For everyone counting on us.

The equipment responded to her ministrations with increasing efficiency, extracting mineral fragments from the underground springs while processing highland moss into the concentrated form that clan traditions specified. As the synthesis neared completion, she found herself thinking about Jake's steady hands, his dry humour, and the way he'd looked at her when offering his grandfather's compass.

I love him, she realised with crystalline clarity. I love a man I've known for three days, and I am probably going to die before I can tell him.

The first Antipode came through the facility's main entrance like gray lightning, moving with predatory intelligence that made normal pack behaviour seem clumsy by comparison. Moira met its charge with her great-grandmother's blade, the clan-forged steel singing as it parted alien flesh. Highland craftsmanship, forged in the old ways and blessed with clan ceremonies, proved superior to enhanced physiology.

But more creatures were approaching, and she could hear heavy bodies moving through the forest around the facility. The pack was coordinating their assault with tactical precision that confirmed their enhanced intelligence.

A massive shape filled the processing chamber's doorway — the pack leader from the mining complex, bearing fresh wounds that suggested Jake had made him pay for abandoning the False Springs pursuit. When it spoke, the words were distorted but recognisable.

"Human... female... destroys... cure... to... stop... pack..."

"If necessary," Moira confirmed, backing toward the reactor controls while the equipment completed its delicate cycle. Fifteen minutes for full synthesis — too long, with multiple Antipodes surrounding her position. But enough for a partial batch that might save some lives.

Distant gunfire cracked across the valleys, growing closer with each exchange. Jake was fighting his way back toward her position, probably pushing himself beyond safe limits to reach her. The pack leader was waiting for him to arrive so they could eliminate both humans simultaneously.

Please let Jake understand what I'm about to do, she thought desperately. Please let him know I tried.

She triggered the equipment's emergency shutdown, preserving the partial synthesis while sacrificing the full production run. The cure would be enough for perhaps fifty people — not nearly sufficient for New Prosperity's entire population, but better than nothing if distributed carefully.

"Emergency termination complete," the machine announced, as she kept her weapons trained on the pack leader.

The creature's laugh was the most disturbing sound she'd ever heard — alien vocal mechanisms attempting human expression with results that suggested madness.

"Human... attachment... makes... you... weak..."

"You're wrong about attachment," Moira replied, reaching the reactor controls with grim determination.

"And you don't understand Highland engineering."

She triggered the reactor's emergency override sequence, initiating a controlled overload that would release the facility's entire power reserve in a massive electromagnetic pulse. The Teseum deposits throughout the highland region would amplify the effect, creating an area-denial field that would scramble neural pathways for any organism within the radius.

Including, unfortunately, both herself and Jake.

"What... human... does?" the creature demanded, apparently realising that something had changed.

"Ensuring that your pack's enhanced intelligence dies with us," Moira said calmly, watching power levels climb toward critical threshold.

"The electromagnetic pulse will revert you to baseline Antipode intelligence, making you just another pack of predators."

Sixty seconds to overload. The reactor's harmonic vibration became audible, a low thrumming that suggested imminent catastrophic release. Around the processing chamber, Antipodes hesitated as their enhanced senses detected the building energy discharge.

Jake burst through the chamber's eastern entrance, his rifle spitting precise fire that dropped one of the creatures before it could close distance. He took in the tactical situation at a glance — Moira at the reactor controls, warning lights flashing throughout the chamber, creatures converging from multiple directions.

"How long?" he shouted, putting three more rounds into the pack leader's torso, to little effect.

"Sixty seconds to electromagnetic pulse," she replied, continuing to hold the wounded creature at bay with her own shots.

"Suggest immediate tactical withdrawal."

"Kind of busy," Jake replied with forced lightness, dropping his rifle's magazine and slamming in a fresh one.

"Got about a dozen angry Antipodes between us and the exit."

Forty-five seconds. The reactor's overload sequence had passed the point of no return, building toward an energy release that would be visible from orbit.

"Moira," Jake called over the building chaos, "did the synthesis complete?"

"Partial batch. Fifty-seven doses in storage compartment alpha-seven."

Thirty seconds. Jake was fighting his way toward the storage compartment, his precise fire holding the pack at bay but clearly running low on ammunition.

"Jake," Moira called over the building chaos, her voice breaking with emotion she could no longer contain, "in case we don't survive this — these three days watching you move through danger like you were born to it — I think I've been falling in love with the person you choose to be."

Jake's answering smile was brilliant as sunrise over the highland peaks.

"Lady, I know I love you. Have done since the moment you threatened to shoot me for getting too close."

Twenty seconds. The pack leader made his final charge, moving with desperate speed as he realised his enhanced intelligence was about to be sacrificed. Moira met his attack with her blade, the clan steel finding its mark between alien ribs while claws raked across her body armour.

Ten seconds. Jake reached the storage compartment, securing the cure while providing covering fire against the remaining pack members.

Five seconds. Moira drove Highland steel deep into the creature's already wounded chest, feeling the blade penetrate enhanced tissue as the pack leader's death cry mixed with the reactor's harmonic scream.

Three seconds. Jake grabbed her hand — their first skin contact since meeting — and pulled her toward the chamber's emergency exit. The touch of his fingers against hers was electric with more than just electromagnetic interference.

One second. The facility's fusion reactor released three centuries of stored energy in a single pulse that turned the highland night white as Dawn's twin suns.

After the Storm

Consciousness returned slowly, like emerging from deep water into uncertain light. Moira became aware of warmth first — body heat that wasn't her own, the sensation of being held against someone's chest while strong arms cradled her with infinite tenderness. Then came the sounds: wind through highland trees, the distant call of native birds, the steady rhythm of breathing that belonged to another person.

She opened her eyes to find Jake's face inches from her own, his expression tight with worry as he monitored her vital signs. They were lying together in a natural shelter formed by fallen trees, sharing body heat under emergency thermal blankets that suggested hypothermia had been a serious concern.

"How long?" she asked, her voice rough with dehydration.

"Eighteen hours since the pulse," Jake replied, not moving away despite the fact that they were now in direct physical contact.

"You took a nasty hit from the pack leader's claws, plus radiation exposure from the reactor overload. I wasn't sure..." His voice cracked slightly.

"I wasn't sure you were going to wake up."

Moira took inventory of her injuries — deep scratches across her ribs, electromagnetic burns on her hands from the reactor controls, and a persistent headache that suggested minor concussion. But she was alive, which was more than she'd expected when triggering the overload sequence.

"The cure?"

"Safe," Jake confirmed, indicating a sealed container beside their shelter.

"Fifty-seven doses by my count, properly shielded from electromagnetic interference. Enough to treat the most critical cases in New Prosperity."

"And our own infections?"

Jake's expression grew wonder-struck.

"That's the remarkable part. The electromagnetic pulse disrupted the pathogen's bonding mechanisms at the cellular level. The radiation exposure that nearly killed us also neutralised our diseases completely."

Understanding unfurled in Moira's chest like a banner as she realised what this meant. They were free to touch, to hold each other, to explore the connection that had been growing between them since their first meeting.

"So we can..." she said, hardly daring to believe it.

Jake's answer came in the form of action rather than words. He leaned down and kissed her with careful reverence, lips warm and sure against her own while his hands cradled her face with infinite gentleness. It was their first kiss, their first truly intimate contact, and it carried the weight of everything they'd shared during their impossible partnership.

When they finally separated, Jake's eyes held an expression of wonder that matched her own feelings.

"Worth the wait," he said softly, his thumb tracing her cheek.

"Even though we've just proven that what we felt was real rather than just crisis-driven attraction?"

"Especially then," Jake replied, his voice thick with emotion.

"Crisis attraction burns hot and fast. What we've got..." He kissed her forehead tenderly.

"This is something deeper. Something that chose to grow even when we couldn't touch, couldn't comfort each other, couldn't even be sure we'd survive to see what it might become."

They lay together in comfortable silence, adjusting to the reality of physical contact after days of enforced separation. Moira marveled at how perfectly she fit against Jake's chest, as if her body had been waiting for exactly this warmth and weight.

"What happens now?" she asked eventually, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

"Now we take the cure to New Prosperity and save as many people as we can," Jake replied practically, his hand stroking her hair with gentle reverence.

"After that..." He paused, considering their options.

"I suppose we figure out whether two people from different parts of Ariadna can build something lasting together."

"I want to try," Moira said fiercely, lifting her head to meet his eyes.

"Whatever it takes, whatever compromises we need to make — I want to see if this partnership can become something permanent."

Jake's smile was like sunrise over the highland peaks.

"Lady, I was hoping you'd say that."

They broke camp with efficient coordination, gathering equipment and supplies for the journey to New Prosperity. The cure required careful transport to prevent contamination or degradation, while their own physical condition limited travel speed despite the urgency of reaching the infected civilians.

But as they walked, Moira found herself studying Jake with new freedom — the way afternoon light caught in his dark hair, the gentle strength of his hands, the smile that appeared whenever he caught her looking at him.

"Tell me about Crater Ridge," she said, taking his hand as they navigated rough terrain.

"I want to understand where you come from."

As Jake described his childhood settlement — the democratic traditions, the way neighbours supported each other through crisis, the practical innovations that emerged from necessity — Moira began recognising parallels to Highland clan culture that hadn't been apparent during their mission's immediate pressures.

Different expressions of the same fundamental values: fierce community responsibility, individual competence, the obligation to preserve what was valuable while embracing necessary change.

"We're not as different as I thought," Jake observed, squeezing her hand.

"Perhaps not," Moira agreed.

"But the differences that do exist are significant. Can a Highland woman who values tradition work with a frontier man who embraces constant change?"

"Can a frontier man who values independence work with a Highland woman who's part of an extended clan network?" Jake countered, lifting their joined hands to kiss her knuckles.

"Only one way to find out," Moira replied, marveling at the simple joy of being able to touch him freely.

Resolution

They reached New Prosperity's perimeter as Dawn's twin suns approached their zenith, casting sharp shadows across the settlement's damaged structures. The quarantine barriers had been reinforced, but signs of recent fighting suggested that the enhanced pack had indeed launched attacks while maintaining their coordinated intelligence.

Multi-national medical personnel were already on site — apparently, the scope of the biological threat had triggered unprecedented cooperation between Ariadnan intelligence services. Highland field medics worked alongside USAriadnan emergency specialists, while Merovingian biotechnology experts consulted with Tartary biochemists on pathogen analysis.

"Situation report," Jake requested as they approached the medical command post, his arm protectively around Moira's waist.

"Forty-three dead from the plague itself," the USAriadnan medical officer replied grimly.

"Another sixteen killed during the Antipode attacks. But the enhanced pack behaviour ended abruptly about eighteen hours ago — they reverted to normal predator patterns and withdrew to the deep territories."

A Merovingian biotechnology specialist looked up from her analysis equipment.

"We've been studying tissue samples from the infected population. The pathogen shows clear signs of artificial modification — this was definitely engineered rather than natural mutation."

"We know why," Moira said, producing the sealed container with their synthesised cure.

"Fifty-seven doses of treatment compound, effective against the modified Crimson Fever pathogen. Prioritise distribution to children and critical infrastructure personnel."

The medical team accepted the cure with something approaching awe, but the Caledonian field medic raised concerns that reflected Highland caution.

"Traditional Highland remedies processed through abandoned Teseum equipment? We should run compatibility tests before widespread distribution."

"No time," Jake replied firmly, his protective instincts clearly triggered by any delay that might cost lives.

"We've tested the synthesis against the original research data. The compound works, and people are dying while we debate protocols."

"Perhaps we could compromise," the Merovingian specialist suggested diplomatically.

"Immediate distribution to the most critical cases while running parallel testing on the remaining doses?"

It was a solution that balanced competing national approaches while serving the broader Ariadnan interest. Highland caution, frontier urgency, commercial pragmatism, and methodical analysis — all contributing to an effective response that none of the four nations could have achieved alone.

As medical personnel began preparing the cure for distribution, Moira and Jake found themselves with the strange luxury of mission completion. They'd succeeded — not completely, not without casualties, but enough to save most of New Prosperity's population and eliminate the enhanced Antipode threat.

"So," Jake said, settling beside her on a supply crate while keeping his arm around her shoulders, "what now?"

"Now, we watch them save lives with the cure we obtained together," Moira replied, leaning into his warmth.

"After that..." She paused, considering their options seriously.

"I suppose we find out if what we built during the mission can survive in peacetime."

"Think it can?"

Moira looked at Jake — really looked at him, studying the competent hands and steady eyes that had kept her alive through impossible circumstances. The frontier pragmatism that had balanced her Highland traditions, the humour that had lightened their darkest moments, the absolute reliability that had made their partnership work against every conceivable obstacle.

"Yes," she said finally, with conviction that surprised her with its strength.

"I think it can. I think what we have is strong enough to survive politics and family expectations and whatever complications the future throws at us."

Jake's smile was soft with promise and infinite tenderness.

"In that case, I believe you mentioned something about Highland signals?"

"Three short flashes, two long, one short," Moira replied, demonstrating with her polished metal signal mirror.

"Traditional Caledonian declaration of romantic intent."

Jake produced his own mirror and carefully replicated the pattern, his movements precise despite the emotion in his eyes.

"How's that?"

"Perfect," Moira said, meaning so much more than his technical execution.

Around them, New Prosperity's survivors began receiving treatment that would save their lives and prevent further spread of the engineered plague. The immediate crisis was ending, but Jake and Moira's partnership was just beginning. They'd proven that love could survive across every barrier their world could devise — disease, politics, cultural differences, and the vast frontier itself.

They'd found each other across impossible odds, choosing to share the watch when everything conspired to keep them apart. Now they would discover what came after the crisis, after the desperate mission, after the moment when two hearts chose each other despite every reason to remain safely distant.

"When this is over," Jake said quietly, his lips brushing against her temple, "I mean, really over — I want to meet your family. Learn those Highland traditions properly."

"And I want to see Crater Ridge, understand the democracy that shaped you." Moira squeezed his hand, marveling at the simple miracle of skin touching skin without fear.

"We'll figure out the complications together."

"Together," Jake agreed, lifting their joined hands to kiss her palm with reverent tenderness.

"I like the sound of that."

As Dawn's twin suns set over the highland peaks, painting the sky in shades of gold and amber, two hearts that had chosen each other across impossible circumstances settled into the comfortable rhythm of shared watch—partners in the truest sense, ready to face whatever frontier lay ahead.

The crisis had ended.

Their love story was just beginning…