“I do not gamble,” I say. “I choose.”
Three hours later, the ritual ground is not ground at all but the open vacuum near a derelict mining platform drifting in the outer ring. Clan vessels gather in a loose circle, their hulls scarred and mismatched, lights dim but watchful.
The cruiser holds position at the edge of the formation.
I step into the external docking ring without armor.
Rethan grips my forearm briefly before I disengage. “End it quickly,” he says.
“I intend to,” I reply.
Vorthan waits opposite me on the platform’s exposed surface, magnetic boots anchoring him against the void. Hisspurs are thicker than mine, scarred and jagged from years of combat.
“You look thinner,” he says as I approach.
“You look impatient,” I answer.
The broadcast drones hover at a respectful distance, relaying the encounter across clan channels.
“This ends reform,” Vorthan says. “One way or the other.”
“It ends doubt,” I reply.
He attacks without further ceremony.
His first strike is heavy and direct, blade arcing toward my shoulder. I pivot, the vacuum swallowing sound but not momentum. His blade glances off my forearm guard, sparks scattering briefly before dying in the dark.
We circle, boots magnetized to the platform’s hull.
He lunges again, and this time I meet him head-on. Our blades collide with a reverberating vibration that travels up my arm and into my chest.
“You weakened us,” he growls through comm.
“I restrained you,” I answer.
He drives forward, forcing me back two steps. His strength is immense, but his rhythm is predictable. Rage makes him linear.
I feint left, pivot right, and hook my foot behind his knee joint. His balance shifts fractionally. It is enough.
My blade arcs low and upward, catching the seam at his hip guard. He staggers.
“You choose a human over blood,” he snarls.
“I choose survival,” I reply.
He charges again, reckless now.
I sidestep and drive my elbow into his visor, cracking it along one edge. He stumbles.
I press forward.
The final strike lands clean across his forearm, disarming him. His blade spins away into vacuum.
I hold my weapon at his throat.
“Yield,” I say.
For a moment, I think he will refuse.
