My throat tightens at the sound of her name. He’s never said it aloud before.
“You knew?”
He nods. “Didn’t want to guess. Didn’t want to be wrong. But I knew.”
“I was scared,” I whisper. “Still am.”
He presses his forehead to mine.
“Me too.”
Then I say the thing I haven’t dared.
“If we make it… I want to try. For real.”
His voice is raw.
“Then don’t let me screw it up.”
And in the silence that follows, we don’t say love.
We don’t need to.
It’s already here.
Time passed and we’re so close to the relay outpost. The coordinates are locked. The ghost channel is ready. Everything hinges on this next stretch.
I’m in the cargo hold, suitcase in one hand, data crystal nestled in foam, humming faintly like it knows it’s been trusted with fire. The air smells of recycled metal, coffee—burnt and stale—and the faint bite of ozone from the ship’s shield generators. Outside the reinforced window, the ice-moon surface rolls past in white-grey drift, broken only by the dull glow of the distant relay tower.
“Rhea,” Valtron’s voice comes through the commline, low and tight. “How’re you doing?”
I let out a breath. “As good as someone carrying the fate of half the galaxy on a suitcase can be.”
He chuckles, but there’s no warmth. “Don’t make me come find you.”
“I’m not built for speed, but I can outrun crashing stars.”
“Until gravity wins.”
“Gravity’s got nothing on me,” I snap, adjusting the strap of the case across my shoulder. “I’ll meet you at the node.”
“Got it,” he says. Then, softer: “Be safe.”
A beat of silence. Then: “I love you.”
My breath catches.
The line goes dead.
I stare at the commlink, blood pulsing in my ears like drums. I don’t know what to say. The words hang there between us, unspoken and urgent. I swallow hard.
Then the alarm kicks in.
Red flashing lights. Klaxons. Steel doors sliding shut.
“Brace!” Valtron’s voice roars.
Something bursts outside. The entire ship shudders. My suitcase goes flying. I catch it with one hand. The crystal rattles inside and I squeeze my fingers shut.
