I smirk. “Still hiding behind crates and smartassery, Duran?”
He steps into the light.
Vakutan, taller than me by a head, cobalt skin lined with war-ink and cybernetic burns. He’s got a shock of silver hair tied back in a combat braid and a grin full of teeth like chipped glass.
We clasp forearms, his grip bone-deep.
“Thought you were dead,” he says.
“Thought you were in prison.”
“Different kind of dead.”
Behind him, two more shapes emerge. Vekt and Sahmi. She’s got a new eye and a fresh limp, and he’s wrapped in that ever-present pressure rig to keep his lungs from caving. War didn’t treat any of us kindly. But we’re still here.
Barely.
“I didn’t come to reminisce,” I say. “I need gear.”
Duran laughs. “Oh, do you now? Just rollin’ up here like we owe you?”
“You do.”
He sobers. Doesn’t argue.
“Maskers. Encryptions. Shortwave interference grids. And a backdoor into the Sunrise Festival’s upper tier.” I meet his eyes. “I’m not asking for charity. I’ll trade what I have.”
He crosses his arms. “And what’s that?”
I reach into my satchel and pull out the bundle.
My blades.
Wrapped in a cloth stitched with my grandmother’s sigil. He recognizes it. They all do.
Sahmi steps forward. “Are those what I think they are?”
I nod. “Handforged steel from Earth’s last traditional forge. Balanced with hematite from Vakut Prime. Custom core handles. I used them to cook for the Reconciliation Summit.”
Vekt lets out a low whistle.
“That’s not just payment,” Duran mutters. “That’s sacrilege.”
I meet his gaze. “I know what I’m asking.”
There’s silence.
Then he jerks his chin toward the old freight lift. “Come on. We’ll talk inside.”
He leads. I follow, wary for ambush even if I don’t really expect one. The warehouse smells like hot metal and powdered minerals. Wires snake across the floor like living things. In one corner, a disassembled council beacon lies gutted, its core blinking like a dying heartbeat. In another, crates labeled as agricultural supplies leak ghostlight from their cracked seals.
Duran tosses a padded case onto a table. “Got three units of Ophiux jammers. One’s busted, but the rest’ll fry most standard bio-scanners if you don’t stand still too long.”
He taps another crate. “Encryption kits. Not top tier, but solid. Enough to get you into festival tier-two access ports, maybe even bluff a central node.”
I nod, absorbing it all.
“What’s the target?” Vekt asks from the side. “Council convoy? Supply raid?”
