A guard shoved me lightly between the shoulder blades, and we started down the corridor.
"You must feel lucky we saved you from those pirates," Voss said without looking at me. "You've seen the broadcasts. They terrorize corporate space. Plenty of people would prefer we eliminate them once and for all."
"Cut the crap, Voss. We both know the real reason the corporations want them gone. They provide hope. They provide belonging. They help people. They show them there's something else out there—something that won't eat them alive from the inside. Something you don't have to buy with a monthly subscription."
"Call them whatever you like." He stopped beside a door. "The corporations control the media. The media control the people." He turned, eyes cold. "And I control you. In you go."
The door slid open.
The lab was filled with familiar equipment—everything from my old habitat, the scent of recycled air and sterilized metal hitting me like a punch of nostalgia, plus a few additional devices I hadn't seen before.
"Well," I said softly, eyes misting, "I guess I'll get started."
"Don't cry. Or do. I don't care," Voss said as he turned away. "I expect your first report by this evening."
The door sealed behind him.
I let out a long breath. Finally, the blowhard was gone.
I logged into the ship's computer and entered the commands exactly as Vaelix had instructed, my fingers flying across the keys withthe muscle memory of a thousand similar logins. The hack was a Corporate backdoor the Knights had purchased months earlier—untraceable, elegant, and devastatingly simple. The only limitation was that it had to be executed from a terminal aboard the target ship.
God, I hope this works.
I slipped on a headset and pulled up the communications network, the sensor array, and several preselected security feeds. Live images of key areas across the frigate filled my display. Finally, I accessed the lockdown system.
Now I controlled who went where.
Director Voss's voice crackled through my headset. "Zorathi pirate vessel, you have breached Corporate space. Per Unified Galactic Ordinance Five-Zeta-Eight-Six, you are classified as enemy combatants. All corporate frigates, engage immediately!"
I grinned. Predictable.
I closed my eyes and thought of my four knights. A soft smile curved my lips.
Now.
I pushed the thought outward, layering it with urgency. A faint tug brushed the edge of my consciousness.
Message received.
Warmth bloomed in my chest—brief but unmistakable.
I pulled up the frigate's sensor array and recalibrated it to the false harmonics Lyrin had suggested—Reach signatures layered over empty space.
"Director Voss!" a voice shouted. "Sensors are detecting multiple contacts—fighters to—no, that can't be right. Zorathi mothership! Correction—two motherships!"
"That's impossible," Voss snapped, and I could hear the first hairline crack in his confidence. "They never leave Reach space. Verify your readings."
A pause. "Sir, readings confirmed across all frigates. Thousands of Reach ships are converging on our position."
"The Reach doesn't move like this," Voss said, his voice brittle. "They've never come this close to Corporate space."
"They have once," another officer said quietly.
"The Starfall Conflict," Voss whispered.
A warm closeness rippled through me. The Knights were coming. I had minutes—maybe less.
I closed my eyes again and focused on my location.
