This is a story of two loving souls, both with deep secrets, finding their way together, one half angel and the other a descendant of the most influential scientist on Genesis One, but they both have one thing in common: they were born on earth

 *The Apple of My Eye*

The stars blurred by as Pulsar adjusted the viewfinder, fine-tuning the holographic display of their ship’s lounge to mimic the swirling nebula of the Reigel Sector. Despite the quiet hum of the starship’s engine, her mind was alive with the echoes of their last mission—a daring rescue of stranded colonists on the edge of a collapsing wormhole.

She turned her gaze toward G Major, her long-time partner in interstellar adventures. He was seated across the lounge, meticulously polishing his dual harmonizer pistols—a strange quirk for someone who claimed he hated fighting.

“You know,” Pulsar began, sipping from her steaming cup of Starburst cider, “it’s been a while since we just… sat and talked. Without phasers or gravitational anomalies trying to kill us.”

G Major smiled, the corners of his lips tugging up in that easy, lopsided grin she had come to rely on. “If you call dodging an imploding wormhole ‘quality time,’ then yes, we’re overdue.”

Pulsar chuckled, setting her mug down on the glowing surface of the holo-table. “Reigel’s got a way of making you question why we keep doing this.”

“Because we’re good at it,” G Major replied, leaning back in his chair. His amber eyes reflected the simulated nebula above them. “And because you love showing off.”

“Oh, please,” Pulsar shot back with mock indignation. “If I didn’t save your skin out there, you’d still be stuck halfway through that collapsed wormhole.”

G Major raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying I’m the apple of your eye?”

Pulsar felt her cheeks warm but refused to let him win this round. “More like the thorn in my side.”

They both laughed, the tension of their mission dissolving into a comfortable camaraderie.

“Speaking of apples,” Pulsar said, changing the subject, “remember that farmer on Reigel Five? The one who insisted we take a basket of glow-apples as thanks?”

G Major grinned. “You mean the ones you refused to share?”

Pulsar reached into a side compartment and triumphantly produced a glowing, golden fruit. “I was saving them for a special occasion.”

G Major accepted the apple she tossed to him and took a bite, his eyes widening in delight. “Okay, I take it back. You can keep saving these.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, savoring the sweet, effervescent flavor of the fruit. Pulsar leaned back in her chair, watching as the simulated stars drifted by.

“You know,” she said softly, “out there, it feels like the universe is always trying to tear us apart. But here, in moments like this… it’s like we’re invincible.”

G Major met her gaze, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “We are. Because no matter what’s out there, I’ve got your back.”

Pulsar smiled, her chest warm despite the chill of the artificial starlight. “And I’ve got yours.”

As the nebula swirled above them, Pulsar realized that the most valuable treasure they had salvaged from their mission wasn’t the glow-apples or even the lives they had saved. It was this: a fleeting moment of peace, shared with the only person who truly understood her.

And that, she thought, made G Major more than just her partner.

He was the apple of her eye.

How well do you really know your partner

 *The Apple of My Eye: Backstory*

Pulsar wasn’t her real name. At least, not the one she’d been born with. Growing up in the mining colonies of Crystara Prime, she had been Lyra Kade—a scrappy kid with a knack for fixing broken things and an uncanny ability to outthink anyone twice her age. But after the mining company abandoned the colony and pirates moved in to take what little was left, “Lyra” had died in the chaos. Pulsar, the sharp-tongued, fiercely independent pilot, had been born from the ashes.

G Major’s origin was just as complicated, if not more enigmatic. No one, not even Pulsar, knew his real name. He claimed it had been erased when he defected from the Interstellar Authority—an oppressive regime that controlled much of the galaxy’s core systems. Once a decorated officer, G Major had walked away from everything after uncovering the Authority’s involvement in the destruction of an entire moon. They had tried to silence him, branding him a traitor, but G Major had slipped through their fingers.

They had met years ago, during a job gone horribly wrong. Pulsar, working as a freelance pilot, had taken on a high-risk contract transporting medical supplies to a quarantined planet on the edge of Authority space. The mission had been a trap—Authority agents had swarmed her ship the moment she dropped out of hyperspace. Outgunned and outmaneuvered, Pulsar thought she was done for.

Then, G Major appeared.

At the time, he was flying a battered old starfighter, its hull patched with mismatched metal plates. He had swooped in like a comet, taking out three Authority fighters before contacting Pulsar with a simple message: “Follow my lead if you want to live.”

Against her better judgment, she had done just that. Together, they had pulled off a daring escape, navigating an asteroid field while fending off the remaining fighters. When they finally made it to safety, Pulsar had demanded to know who he was and why he had risked his life to save her.

G Major had shrugged. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”

That nonchalant attitude had infuriated her. But over time, as their paths crossed again and again, she came to appreciate his unshakable calm and quiet sense of justice. Eventually, they stopped parting ways after missions. They were better together, a fact they both reluctantly acknowledged.

Their partnership wasn’t always smooth. Pulsar’s tendency to rush headlong into danger clashed with G Major’s more strategic approach. They argued often—about tactics, about money, about whether it was worth risking their lives for people who might not even care. But no matter how heated their disagreements became, they always had each other’s backs when it mattered most.

One of their earliest missions as a team had cemented their bond. A small colony on Vega IX was under siege by raiders, and the two of them had been hired to evacuate the settlers. The job was supposed to be simple—get in, load up the colonists, and get out. But the raiders had anticipated their arrival, and the situation quickly spiraled into chaos. Pulsar had been cornered, her plasma glaive broken, when G Major had come charging in, pistols blazing. He took a hit to the shoulder while shielding her, but together, they managed to drive off the attackers and complete the evacuation.

Afterward, as Pulsar patched him up in the ship’s medbay, she had asked why he had risked his life for her. He had smirked, wincing as she tightened the bandage. “Can’t let my pilot die. Who else is crazy enough to fly the way you do?”

It was a joke, but the look in his eyes told her it was more than that. From that moment on, they were a team.

—

 *The Present*

Sitting in the lounge, sharing glow-apples and reminiscing about their latest mission, Pulsar thought back to those early days. She remembered how closed off G Major had been at first, and how long it had taken her to earn his trust. She remembered the countless near-death experiences they had shared, each one forging their bond stronger than before.

G Major, for his part, was thinking about Pulsar’s question—about stopping, about finding peace. It wasn’t the first time she had brought it up, and he suspected it wouldn’t be the last. He knew she wasn’t serious, not really. Pulsar needed the stars like she needed air. But the fact that she entertained the idea, even briefly, told him something important: she wasn’t just thinking about herself anymore. She was thinking about them.

And that terrified him.

“You’re quiet,” Pulsar said, breaking the silence.

“Just thinking,” G Major replied.

“About what?”

He hesitated. “About how we got here. You ever think about that? All the close calls, all the dumb risks we’ve taken… it’s a miracle we’re still alive.”

“Yeah,” Pulsar said, her voice softer. “But if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

G Major looked at her, surprised by the sincerity in her tone. “Not even the bad parts?”

“Not even the bad parts,” she said firmly. “Because every time I thought I was done for, you were there. I don’t know how, but you always are.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The simulated nebula swirled above them, its light casting gentle shadows across the room.

“Guess that makes you the apple of my eye,” G Major said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Pulsar laughed, her usual sharpness softened by the warmth in her gaze. “Careful, Major. I might start thinking you actually like me.”

“Too late,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Way too late.”

—

Let me know if you’d like to explore specific events in their past or dive into how their dynamic might evolve!