“I brought tools.” He opened his pack to reveal a collection of tools that would have made any salvage engineer weep with envy—pliers and wire cutters and screwdrivers in a dozen different sizes, all maintained with the kind of care that spoke of someone who understood the value of good equipment.
She reached out and put her hand on his arm. “Thank you. For bringing me here. For… all of it.”
Something flickered in his golden eyes—something warm and fierce and almost painful to witness. He didn’t speak. He simply nodded before she turned back to the memory core, cradling it in her lap like something precious.
Whatever’s on here,she thought,it will tell me the truth.
She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that truth. But she knew she needed it.
It took her four hours to repair the core. The memory core had three damaged circuits, two corroded connection points, and a crack in the outer casing that had let moisture seep into the interior components. Any one of those issues could have rendered the data inaccessible. Together, they presented a puzzle that would have daunted someone with less determination.
But she had spent years reading technical manuals. She’d memorized schematics and studied engineering principles and absorbed information about systems and circuits that most of her tutors had considered far too complex for a delicate young heiress. But her father had encouraged her curiosity even whenothers hadn’t understood it.A good leader knows how things work,he’d told her, and she knew how Duvain technology worked.
Now that knowledge was paying dividends.
She worked in focused silence, her fingers moving with growing confidence as she bypassed damaged circuits and cleaned corrosion and rigged temporary connections. Rykan watched from a distance, close enough to help if needed but far enough to give her space. She appreciated that more than she could say.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the core hummed to life.
“Got it,” she said triumphantly as the display flickered to life on the core’s tiny screen, and data began scrolling across it. “The logs are intact. All of them.”
She began navigating through the files, her heart pounding. Most of the data was routine—atmospheric readings, trajectory calculations, stasis protocols. But there, buried in the diagnostic records, she found what she was looking for.
System override initiated.
Fire suppression disabled.
Life support rerouted.
Authorization code: DV-7743-M.
She stared at the code, her blood turning to ice in her veins.
DV-7743-M.
She knew that code. She’d seen it a hundred times growing up, appended to memos and authorizations and corporatecommunications. It was a high-level access code—the kind that could override any system on any Duvain vessel.
It was Marina’s code.
Even though she’d suspected her aunt’s involvement, the proof almost drove her to her knees. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except stare at those damning characters and feel the world crumble around her.
Marina.
Her aunt. Her guardian. Her father’s own sister.
The woman who had held her hand at her father’s funeral and promised to protect her.
The woman who had smiled and offered comfort and assured her that everything would be taken care of.
The woman who had tried to murder her.
“Ember.”
Rykan’s voice came from far away, filtered through a ringing in her ears. His hand rested on her shoulder, warm and grounding, but she couldn’t look away from the screen. She couldn’t stop reading those numbers over and over, as if staring at them long enough might change their meaning.
“Ember, talk to me.”
“It was Marina.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. “My aunt. She’s the one who sabotaged the ship. She’s the one who killed my crew. She’s the one who tried to kill me.”
