Serekh inclines her head slightly. “Ritual combat under witness. Outcome binding.”
The hum of the cruiser seems louder suddenly.
Rethan inhales sharply behind me. “This is not the time,” he says under his breath.
I ignore him.
“You schedule this while Alliance fleets position?” I ask Vorthan.
“We schedule it because Alliance fleets position,” he replies.
The logic is brutal.
“Time and coordinates,” I say at last.
Vorthan’s mouth curves faintly. “Three hours. Outer Badlands ring. Broadcast to all clans.”
The channel cuts before I respond.
Rethan steps forward immediately. “You cannot fight him and mount a rescue within the same cycle.”
“I can,” I reply.
“Not without fracture,” he says.
The weight of the room presses against my spine.
“He wants me divided,” I say quietly.
“Valen?” Rethan asks.
“Yes. And Vorthan.”
Rethan folds his arms tighter. “Then choose.”
The word lands heavy.
I look back at the projection of Alliance territory. Somewhere within those shifting light grids, Elara waits for a tribunal engineered to crush her credibility.
I think of the way she looked across the shuttle cabin when she told me not to let them cage us.
I think of Valen’s composure.
“I will not cede leadership to a reactionary warlord,” I say finally.
“Then you fight,” Rethan says.
“Yes.”
“And the rescue?”
“I go after her,” I reply.
Rethan’s jaw tightens. “Both?”
“Yes.”
He studies me for a long moment. “You gamble everything.”
