“The file is massive,” Suki says. “And the nebula interference is high. Once we start, it’s going to take time. Maybe twenty minutes to reach the High Council’s servers and get a verified receipt.”
“Twenty minutes,” Henrok muses, looking at the tactical map. The crystals in his arms flare brighter, and I realize with a start that they’re responding to his emotions. Anticipation. Battle-lust. The hunger of a predator who’s been kept too long from the hunt.
He bares his teeth in something that might be a smile.
“We can hold them for twenty minutes.”
“Sir.” Rusty the droid rolls up—ancient and battered, its chassis marked with battle scars and ceremonial etchings. “INCOMING TRANSMISSION FROM THE DREADNOUGHT. COMMANDER VOROS WISHES TO SPEAK TO THE ‘THIEF AND THE TRAITOR.’” The droid’s optical sensors swivel toward me and Rynn. “I ASSUME HE MEANS YOU TWO.”
“Put him on,” Henrok orders.
“First Blade D’Vorr,” Voros says smoothly. “You are harboring stolen property. Surrender the Valorian asset and the data crystal, and we will leave your rock pile intact.”
Asset. The word slides through the bond, and I feel Rynn’s reaction to it—old pain, old fury, carefully controlled. They’ve been calling him that his whole life. A thing to be owned. To be used.
I step forward, putting myself shoulder-to-shoulder with him. You’re not cargo. You’re not an asset. You’re mine.
Warmth floods through the bond. Fierce and grateful.
Henrok, meanwhile, looks profoundly bored.
“Commander,” he replies, examining his claws like he’s considering whether they need sharpening, “you seem to beunder the impression that I respond to threats. I do not.” He looks up, and his eyes glow bright as furnaces. “I respond to targets.”
Voros’s jaw tightens. “This is not a negotiation. We have a Dreadnought. We have a blockade. You cannot escape.”
“And I have a fortress,” Henrok says. “And guests.” His smile widens, and there’s nothing human in it at all. “It would be rude to hand them over before dinner.”
“Then you will burn with them.”
The transmission cuts.
The silence that follows is absolute.
Then Henrok turns, and his voice fills the room like rolling thunder.
“Red alert. Shields up. Weapons free.”
He looks at Rynn.
“Connect the crystal, Valorian. Start the upload.”
Rynn moves to the Relay, slotting the crystal into the ancient interface with hands that don’t tremble. A beam of pure white light shoots up into the receiver array, so bright it leaves afterimages dancing across my vision.
“Upload started,” Suki announces. “1%... 2%...”
On the screen, the Dreadnought’s main cannons begin to glow green.
I reach for Rynn’s hand. He’s already reaching for mine.
The bond flares hot and fierce between us—no fear, just absolute resolve. Whatever happens. Together.
“Twenty minutes,” he says. “We hold the line.”
The fortress shakes as the first bombardment hits the shields, and the obsidian walls groan with the strain, and the crystal veins flare bright as stars—
And the siege begins.
12
