Kaede
The CEG Space Station filled the viewport like a sun.
Kaede stood at the bridge observation window and watched it grow—a massive, gleaming structure rotating in the void between neutral star systems, its docking rings extending outward like the arms of something waiting to embrace them. Or swallow them. The distinction had been bothering him for hours.
Neutral territory. The phrase was a diplomatic fiction. Nothing about this station was neutral—not the Quaww representatives who’d voted to exterminate Selena’s existence from the galactic record.
TheAbyssslid into the berth with the smooth precision of his Oetsae team’s automated docking systems. Magnetic clamps engaged. The hull shuddered once—a deep, resonant thud that traveled up through Kaede’s boots and settled in his molars.
Locked in. Committed.
Around him, the bridge hummed with controlled efficiency. Eshe at the tactical station, running final threat assessments.The Royal Guard cycling through their positions in the corridors below—armed, armored, every one of them hand-selected for this mission. REI’s teal presence flickered across every display, monitoring the station’s internal sensors for anomalies.
Everything proceeding exactly as planned.
Kaede didn’t trust it.
He still couldn’t shake the feeling they were missing something—that something was wrong. Some variable he hadn’t accounted for, some angle of approach his contingencies hadn’t covered. The prickle at the base of his skull—the one that had kept him alive through three decades of killing and being hunted—had been buzzing since they dropped out of FTL, and it hadn’t stopped.
He pressed two fingers to his neck. “REI. Final sweep.”
“Sweep complete. No anomalous energy signatures within docking range. Station security protocols are standard. Aldawi royal quarter access has been confirmed.”A beat.“Your cortisol levels are elevated.”
“Noted.”
“And dismissed, I assume.”
He didn’t answer. His gaze stayed on the station through the viewport—the lights, the structure, the gleaming expanse of metal and diplomacy and every lie the galaxy told itself about peace.
Time to collect his nestqueen.
He found her in the royal quarters.
Zyxel stood at her flank—demi-human form, armed, the obsidian dark of his horns catching the overhead light. He’d been with her all day, as ordered. Good. The Rkekh had taken his assignment with the seriousness Kaede had demanded, and the bond between them confirmed what his eyes already told him: Selena was rested, fed, steady.
As steady as she ever got before walking into something that could kill her.
She stood at the center of the room in the living suit’s royal configuration—sleek, dark, formal. The smart fabric had shaped itself into something that split the difference between armor and diplomacy, hugging her frame in clean lines that announced what she was without screaming it. Aldawi Beacon. Nestqueen. The woman many species were gambling their futures on.
Her silver hair was pulled back, exposing the line of her neck and the constellation of bioluminescent spots that traced her spine. They pulsed softly—orange, yellow, brown—the slow, rhythmic cycle that meant she was focused. Controlled.
Kaede opened his mouth to speak.
Selena reached for something at her hip.
He saw the blade first. Emerald. One of Ryzen’s spirit daggers, manifested and hovering near her open palm—its edge bright with spiritforce that pulsed in time with her heartbeat.
She pressed it to a spot on her forearm.
The dagger sank into her skin like water into sand.
Kaede froze.
Not a flinch. Not a stumble. A full-body arrest—every system locking down as he watched the emerald blade dissolve through the surface of her arm and disappear. Her Beacon spots flared—not their usual nervous-worried cycle but emerald, bright and alien, pulsing once, twice, three times before fading back to their normal rhythm.
The dagger was gone. Inside her. Part of her.
She looked up at him.
