I turned back to the comm. "Acknowledge the invitation," I ordered tightly. "We will come aboard."
Nadine let out a soft, triumphant sound.
"You're enjoying this," I accused.
"I am," she said cheerfully. "You're exasperated. It's adorable."
I rose from the command chair, already preparing myself for Xandros's inevitable smugness. "If this turns into a political entanglement?—"
"You'll glare at everyone until it stops," she finished. "I've seen you work."
We headed toward the airlock. The Imperial flagship loomed large on the viewscreen, immaculate, imposing, radiating the kind of authority that assumed compliance. I had a very bad feeling about this.
Pandraxians were hard to miss,tall, broad-shouldered, skin ranging from burnished bronze to deep umber, eyes like polished metal that never quite stopped assessing threat vectors. Efficient. Disciplined. Built for command and conquest. But I had never methim.
The moment we stepped onto the Imperial flagship, I felt it, the difference between soldiers who enforced authority and those who embodied it. The guards who escorted us moved with ceremonial precision, their armor pristine, their weapons carried more as symbols than necessities. This ship wasn't just a war vessel. It was a statement. Every corridor gleamed with controlled power; every surface curved with purpose. No wasted space. No softness.
Dravok looked exactly as unimpressed as I'd expected. I, on the other hand, was cataloging everything. We were led deeper into the ship, past secured bulkheads and command hubs, until the guards halted before the Superior Commander's office. The doors parted silently.
A man who had to be Xandros stood first. He was taller than the guards, broader through the chest, his posture relaxed in the way of someone who never needed to prove dominance because it was already assumed. His armor was darker than standard Imperial issue, trimmed in gold rather than silver, the insignia at his shoulder unmistakable even to me. His face was sharper than most Pandraxians I'd seen, with a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and eyes the color of molten brass that flicked immediately to Dravok. Not hostile. Calculating. Curious in a way that felt dangerous. This was a man who enjoyed puzzles. Then I noticed Ashley.
She stood at his side, not tucked away, not ornamental, but positioned like an equal. Her uniform matched his Imperial one but had been subtly adapted, clearly tailored for a human frame. The insignia on her collar marked her as an officer, and the datapad in her hand bore the seal of interstellar liaison authority. Ashley, human, Pandraxian officer, diplomatic bridge between Earth and the Empire.
Her expression shifted the moment her eyes landed on me. Relief. Recognition. A flicker of warmth she tried—and failed—to fully suppress.
"Oh," she exclaimed, stepping forward before protocol could stop her. "You're human."
"Yes," I smiled despite myself. "And I'm very happy to see you."
She laughed softly, the sound carried something like gratitude. "You have no idea how rare that still feels. You must be Nadine. Daryus mentioned you."
The casual use of the emperor's first name didn't escape me. These people—Daryus, Xandros, Heather, Ashley—were tightly knit. Not just politically aligned, but personally connected. That alone sent a ripple of surprise through me.
"And you're Ashley. I've heard… things."
She smiled knowingly. "I imagine you have."
Ashley was quite the legend herself on Earth. As a Marine, she had been trained to move fast, make decisions under fire, and bring people home who statistically shouldn't survive. She was taken during a Cryon attack while leading a rescue mission, boots on the ground when most forces were still arguing about jurisdiction and threat assessments. She fought long enough for her team to evacuate several civilians. She survived captivity the same way she'd survived combat: adapting, observing, refusing to break. When Xandros boarded the Cryon vessel during a diplomatic mission, he never expected her. Ashley didn't beg for rescue. She coordinated it.
She provided intelligence mid-extraction, weaponized her own captivity against her captors, and walked off that ship with blood on her uniform and a strategic debrief already forming. That alone earned Xandros's respect. What followed wasn't instant romance or political convenience. It was recognition.
Ashley transitioned from rescued asset to active liaison, learning Pandraxian protocol, Imperial strategy, and interstellar diplomacy with the same precision she'd once applied to battlefield tactics. When Earth needed a voice the Empire would actually listen to, she became it.
Xandros shifted his focus from me to Dravok with renewed intensity. He studied him in silence, head tilting slightly, eyes narrowing not in hostility but disbelief. "So, you're real."
Dravok didn't react.
Xandros let out a short breath, almost a laugh. "The Emperor spoke of the Arkhevari as if they were… present concerns. Iassumed it was stress. Or exaggeration." His eyes sharpened. "Apparently, I was wrong."
Ashley shot him a look. "You didn't believe him?"
"I believed he believed," Xandros replied, shrugging. "That is not the same thing."
I couldn't help myself. "To be fair, if someone told me gods were walking around causing diplomatic incidents, I'd have questions too."
That earned me a low, appreciative huff from Ashley, and a sharper, openly intrigued look from Xandros.
"You travel with dangerous beings," he observed calmly, gaze never leaving Dravok.
