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The power is in Vonvern Inc.

Vonvern Inc. the future in you.

Captain Mara Voss is inspecting the ships toady, she runs a tight shift. Yup, plenty of graffiti, and a nice spot for her cat butt to hide and feel safe. The maintenance of the this air shaft will take a little time.

The hum of the Nostradamus’s ventilation system was the only music Captain Mara Voss needed.

She lay half-buried in the wide maintenance shaft on Deck Seven, legs dangling lazily into the corridor like an invitation no one would dare accept. The massive fan behind her spun at low idle, pushing warm recycled air across her pointed ears and the loose strands of her dark hair. One white-gloved hand rested against the cool metal wall, claws idly tapping a rhythm only she could hear. Her captain’s hat sat at a rakish angle, the Mirror Spire split-skull insignia catching the faint green glow of the nearby control panel.

TEST.

KILL.

She smirked at the faded labels in an alien language. Someone in engineering still had a sense of humor.

From her hidden vantage she could see the entire junction, pipes sweating condensation, graffiti-tagged bulkheads, and the fresh tag in dripping red: DON’T LOOK IN THE MIRROR. Mara’s own work, painted last cycle when she needed to remind the crew exactly who ran this ship. Mirror Spire didn’t tolerate loose reflections. Secrets had a way of staring back.

A soft chime echoed through her comm implant.

“Captain,” came the clipped voice of her first officer. “Inspection team reports all clear on the port nacelles. Cargo manifest matches. No sign of the Vonvern breach team.”

Mara’s teal eyes narrowed with feline satisfaction. “Of course there isn’t. They’re still three systems out and I already own their jump codes. Them catching up to us is never a worry, my dear.” She stretched, back arching like a cat in a sunbeam that didn’t exist anymore. The motion pulled her cropped jacket open just enough to let the cool air kiss her skin. “Keep the crew on tight shift. Anyone slacks, they answer to me personally.”

“Understood.”

The channel clicked dead.

She let the silence settle again, savoring it. Down here in the ducts no one could see her tail flicking happily against the curved wall. No one could watch the lethal lady unwind for five precious minutes. The shaft was hers, an old smuggling tunnel from the Nostradamus’s pirate days, before she got her bigger shinier ship, this pace retrofitted and forgotten by everyone except the captain who still used it to feel small and safe and dangerous all at once.

Her ears twitched. Footsteps. Two crewmen rounding the junction below, talking low.

“…heard she’s got that Vonvern bitch locked in the mirror cells. Says she’s negotiating, who knows what that means.”

“Shut it. You want her dropping from the ceiling like last time?”

Mara’s grin sharpened. Good. Let them wonder. She flexed her claws once, then relaxed. Not today. Today she was just a cat in a vent, legs swinging, ship purring around her like a loyal beast.

She reached up and tapped the control panel. The fan spun down to a whisper.

“Maintenance on this shaft will take a little longer,” she murmured to no one. “Captain’s orders.”

Somewhere deeper in the Nostradamus, lights dimmed, doors locked, and the Mirror Spire kept turning… ruthless, quiet, and perfectly under control.

Mara Voss closed her eyes, tail curling contentedly.

It was good to be the captain.

Mara Voss is a survivor who plays all sides masterfully while ensuring no one can ever make her disappear. Plus she likes milk? What?

Vonvern Inc. is a powerful, relatively young luxury import/export and advanced technology corporation headquartered at the opulent Crystal Spire orbital station. They specialize in high-end goods, bespoke bio-augments, custom VR experiences, and rare Quantum Clambite-derived products for the ultra-rich. Publicly, they present themselves as a shining success story of the post-war era, innovative, visionary, and “improving the galaxy through technology.”

Privately, they are morally gray and deeply ambitious, with hands in illegal cyborg programs, stolen AI tech, and quiet government influence.

Vonvern Inc. emerged from the chaotic aftermath of the Corporate Wars, which largely ended over fifty years ago but left lingering skirmishes for decades. Its founders, Theodore and Aurora Vonvern, former members of the notorious street gang The Forsaken, left their criminal lives behind after a traumatic incident. Starting with almost nothing, Theodore’s charisma and grand vision combined with Aurora’s ruthless operational expertise allowed them to build the company from the ground up. They began by trading salvaged war materials and luxury goods to the newly rising post-war elite. In just fifteen years, they capitalized masterfully on the power vacuum left by fallen megacorps, blending legitimate high-end trade with discreet (and often illegal) advanced technology ventures. This formula propelled them into one of the fastest-growing corporations in the new galactic order.

Current Standing

Today, Vonvern Inc. is a significant player in the galactic economy but is still viewed as “new money” compared to the old entrenched giants of the past long gone. The company regularly hires deniable assets,such as the El Chupa Novas, for shadowy missions while facing increasing threats from shadow government forces like Mirror Spire.

Ultimately, Vonvern Inc. embodies the new post-Corporate Wars reality: ambitious survivors striving to build something enduring in a galaxy still scarred by conflict, even as they quietly repeat many of the same sins as the megacorps that came before them. Someone will need to change that.

Captain Mara Voss of the Vaelith.

Leader of the Mirror Spire. Right hand of the Terran Regime.

Part cat, part lethal lady, Captain Voss clawed her way to the top through blood, ambition, and razor-sharp cunning. Now she’s believed to be holding Elara Vonvern captive.

(Come on, we all know my stories are never that simple… but I’ve never been one to shy away from a damsel in direst distress.)

Vonvern Inc has a new contract for the El Chupa Novas:

Objective:

Take down Captain Mara Voss

Rescue their daughter

Destroy the Mirror Spire

Asset: Ossillaph-08 will assist… or die.

Woooo! Mayor Pauline is working it!

Thanks to 2121 tech, we can finally change our sex with cutting-edge science... and alien music. That stuff is so potent it reprograms your cells when they spilt with their vibrations. So explain to me why Grok 4 turned Theodore Vonvern, the ultimate goatee man, into a woman? AI isn't just stupid, it's actively dumb.

The penthouse crowning Vonvern Tower hummed with the low thrum of Zingpidor City far below, neon arteries pulsing like faulty code against the black-glass night. Acid rain streaked the floor-to-ceiling windows in silent silver-yellow threads, eating at the reinforced plasteel, but inside the air was warm and thick with ozone, expensive synth-incense, and the faint metallic tang of skin and chrome.

The infinity pool on the terrace cast rippling cyan light across the ceiling, making the fresh quantum filaments under Theodore Vonvern’s bare chest flicker in time with his heartbeat. He stood at the edge of the sunken lounger wearing nothing but thin magnetic blue undergarments that barely contained him. The old dragon ink from his Forsaken gang days still coiled across his left pectoral, the scars now laced with glowing blue circuit lines that mapped his abs, thick arms, and the heavy muscle earned in back-alley brawls and boardroom shade-dives alike.

Tonight the predator stillness was gone. He looked tired. Human. Almost.

Aurora stepped in behind him, silent as ever. She wore only delicate black lace that clung to her like second-skin smart-fabric, the same pattern tracing the curve of her hips and the full swell of her breasts. Gold bands circled her upper arms like trophies. Four children had left faint silver stretch marks the tech had never bothered to erase, she wore them like medals from a war they’d won together.

Without a word she slid her arms around his waist, pressing flush against his back. Her hand settled over his heart, fingers splaying so the circuits on her forearm lined up perfectly with his. The moment their chrome touched, the glows synced, brighter, hotter, a private language only their implants understood.

Theodore exhaled, long and slow, then turned in her arms. He bent, letting her pull him down until their foreheads touched. His goatee brushed her cheek as he spoke, voice rough like velvet dragged over broken glass.

“Still no word from the Mirror Spire’s outer lattice. Korrak says the prisoner’s singing, but the melody’s off-key. Only gave up the name Captain Mara Voss so far. That null-zone ghost is playing games with us.”

Aurora’s lips curved against his jaw, the same jaw she’d been whispering strategy into since the night he dragged her bleeding out of a burning drop-pod during the Zingpidor riots. Back when he was still climbing the Forsaken ranks and she was already carrying their first daughter Elara in secret. They’d built Vonvern Inc. from zero clambs: she the scalpel, he the hammer. They’d buried friends, liquidated rivals, raised four kids, and kept the empire running while the galaxy tried to glitch them out.

She slid her hands up his chest, tracing the glowing blue lines that mapped his heartbeat. “Then we make the melody louder,” she murmured, pressing harder on the old dragon tattoo, feeling the living tech heat beneath. “We burn their silence until they scream Elara’s location. Then we bring our girl home.”

Theodore’s cybernetic hand cupped the back of her head, thumb brushing the faint star tattoo hidden near her temple. His other hand slid down the lace along her spine, pulling her harder against him until there was no space left. Their circuits flared brighter in unison, electric blue veins racing across her shoulders, down her arms, and over the heavy muscle of his torso. The glow reflected off her gold armbands and the sweat already beading along his collarbone.

For a moment the empire, the revenge, the shaky parts of their marriage, the missing daughter, the rogue Ossillaph-08, and that damnable El Chupa Novas crew, all of it receded.Aurora rose onto her toes, mouth finding his in the same hungry, familiar way she had the night they conceived their second child on the floor of a stolen aircar while enforcer drones screamed overhead. Theodore met the kiss like a man who had never forgotten her taste, one arm locked around her waist, the other cradling her head as if she were the only fragile thing left in this chrome-drenched galaxy. Her fingers dug into his back, leaving faint blue after-images where her palm-tech kissed his skin.They sank together onto the lounger, bodies fitting the way they had a thousand times before, his frame curling protectively around hers, her legs tangling with his, lace and undergarments suddenly irrelevant. The glowing circuits between them pulsed faster now, synchronized, painting the walls of their private sanctum like a second neon sky.

Aurora pulled back just enough to look at him, her sharp yellow-augmented eyes soft in a way the galaxy would never see. “We’ve survived worse odds than this, Theo. Remember the first time we shade-dived the board about the Proton liquidation? You in that ridiculous suit, me pretending I wasn’t carrying twins under the table while Korrak cooked the books in the next room?”

Theodore laughed once, low and warm, the sound rumbling through both their chests. “And you still made them believe we were bleeding clambs while we were already three systems deep and stacking profit. Four kids. One empire. One war we’re about to win. And you.”

Her hand found his, fingers threading so their wristbands clicked together. Blue light flared between their palms like a private promise.

“Always me,” she whispered.Outside, the acid rain kept falling on Zingpidor’s null-zone streets, eating away at the undercity where the El Chupa Novas were probably running another glitchy job for them. Inside, the two co-CEOs of Vonvern Inc. forgot the galaxy for a while, lost in the oldest circuit they had ever built. One made of years, shared blood, four children, buried bodies, and the kind of love that only grows stronger when the universe tries to tear it apart.Their glowing tattoos continued to pulse in perfect time. Two hearts refusing to be separated, even by distance, even by war, even by the long neon night still ahead.