Her eyes widen. “You’re creating a legal reason for me to stay.”
“I’m creating options.” I look back at Mother. “But I need you to coordinate. Transmit Pickles’s evidence package to Luzrak immediately. Flag it as time-sensitive. And I need you to run interference if the collectors try to bypass the PDC presence.”
Mother Morrison studies us both for a long moment. Then she smiles—sharp and dangerous.
“You’re taking a significant risk, Specialist Storm. PDC inspections are no joke. If you fail, it impacts your funding for years.”
“I’m aware of the risks.”
“And you’re willing to gamble your station’s future on this?”
I don’t look at Dove. Don’t need to. “Yes.”
“Very well.” Mother’s fingers fly across her interface. “Transmitting evidence package to Luzrak now. Flagging for immediate Commerce Authority review. I’ll also contact my PDC connections—see if we can expedite the inspection team’s arrival.”
The screen splits. Luzrak’s scaled face appears alongside Mother’s—green and gold patterns bright with interest.
“Captain Foxton,” he rumbles, his translator rendering Velorian into smooth bass tones. “You have excellent taste in protectors. This Lividian fights like a merchant prince defending his caravan.”
“Luzrak,” Mother says sharply. “Your assessment?”
“The evidence package is comprehensive. Blackstar Collective has violated seventeen Commerce statutes and twelve STI protocols.” His pupils narrow to slits. “I am... displeased. The raid is locked. Hold the line, courier. Justice is coming.”
The weight of that promise settles over Dove’s shoulders. She straightens slightly.
“Thank you, Luzrak,” she says quietly.
“How fast can PDC move?” I ask Mother.
“If I call in some favors?” Mother considers. “Thirty-six hours. Maybe thirty-four if we’re lucky.”
“The collectors—”
“Are also arriving in thirty-six hours,” I finish. “I know. That’s why I’m requesting the inspection now. Creating the paper trail before they arrive.”
“Cetus, if they get here first—”
“Then they arrive to find a station in the middle of official PDC review.” I turn to face her fully. “With documentation. Witnesses. Legal authority present. They won’t risk it, Dove. The exposure would compromise their entire operation.”
“You can’t know that—”
“No. But it’s better than letting you run into danger alone.” I hold her gaze. “Trust me. Please.”
Mother clears her throat. “I’ll leave you two to discuss the personal implications. Specialist Storm—I’m transmitting the PDC emergency request form to your station now. Fill it out immediately. I’ll expedite processing on my end.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Thank me when everyone’s still breathing in forty-eight hours.” Her expression softens slightly. “For what it’s worth—you’re doing the right thing. Both the tactical plan and the personal one.”
Luzrak’s rumbling laugh fills the channel. “The merchant prince indeed. Fight well, Lividian.”
The transmission ends.
Silence fills the communications bay.
“You found my bag,” Dove says quietly.
“Yes.”
