I pull my hand back with a pulse rate that could power the atmospheric processors.
“You’re both doing the thing again,” Tavia observes without looking up from her portrait of Pickles with muscles. “The thingwhere you touch each other and then pretend you didn’t. I’m putting it in my observation log.”
“You can’t redact science, Dove,” she adds before I can respond.
Late afternoon. Tavia’s in her quarters for mandatory rest, and Pickles drops the news.
“The Blackstar collectors have obtained legal seizure authorization from a Commerce Authority magistrate. The warrant covers both the outstanding debt balance and the associated registered vessel—the Rolling Pin. Additionally, the authorization includes a personnel detention clause.”
The files slip from my hands. Scatter across the floor.
“Personnel detention,” I repeat.
“They intend to take both you and your ship into custody for debt processing. The authorization is broadly written—it would permit physical restraint during transport.”
The room tilts.
“Dove.” Cetus is beside me. When did he move? His hand wraps around my arm—steadying, grounding, his grip careful with claws sheathed. “Breathe.”
“They’re going to take me.” The words come out small. Nothing like the competent, organized professional who’s been commanding his station all day. “Not just the money—me. They’re going to—”
“They’re not going to do anything.” His other hand finds my face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. Yellow and fierce and absolutely certain. “Listen to me. They are not taking you.”
“The authorization—”
“Is issued by a magistrate who will be under investigation within forty-eight hours once the Commerce Authority raid begins. Any actions taken under that authorization will be scrutinized and likely reversed.”
“But if they get here before—”
“They won’t. The PDC team arrives first. And even if the timing shifts, I have contingencies.” His thumb brushes my cheekbone. The same gesture from last night, tender and possessive and claiming. “I’ve been planning for this.”
“What contingencies?” My hands fist in his shirt. I can feel his heartbeat through the fabric—faster than his calm voice suggests. “Cetus, what haven’t you told me?”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then: “Three days ago, I transferred seventy-three thousand credits to a secured OOPS escrow account.”
The number hangs in the air. Seventy-three thousand. My entire debt.
“You—what?”
“I didn’t pay Blackstar directly. The funds are held in escrow pending the Commerce Authority investigation. This means your debt can’t be classified as delinquent while the investigation is active, because the funds exist and are earmarked for resolution. They can’t claim default.”
“You paid my debt.” My voice rises. “You paid seventy-three thousand credits of my debt without asking me.”
“I secured the funds. I didn’t pay Blackstar. The distinction is—”
“The distinction is semantics!” I push away from him. “You can’t just throw money at my problems and call it strategy!”
“Dove—”
“That’s my debt! Mine! I took on those loans, I missed those payments, I made those choices!” I’m pacing now, the carefully organized operations center blurring at the edges. “You think I want to be the broke courier who got bailed out by the rich scientist? You think that’s what I—”
“Stop.” He doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t need to. The harmonics cut through my spiral with surgical precision. “This isn’t about money. It’s about legal positioning.”
“It’s about you deciding I need saving!”
“You do need saving!” His control cracks. Markings blazing, claws extending, voice rough with frequencies that make the air vibrate. “You have armed collectors arriving in less than thirty-six hours with authorization to physically detain you, and you’re angry that I found a way to invalidate their legal basis?”
“I’m angry that you did it without telling me! Without asking! Three days ago, Cetus—you’ve been sitting on this for three days while I was making plans to run, while I was packing my bag, while I was—”
