Clint: “You coming back to IHC space?”
Jordan’s mouth tightens. She glances at me, and for a second I see the conflict—instinct to run back to the devil she knows versus the knowledge that the devil she knows is also the one that put her in a box.
“I don’t know yet,” she says honestly.
Clint: “Be careful.”
Jordan: “Always.”
Clint: “And Jordan?”
Jordan: “Yeah?”
Clint’s voice goes low. “I’m proud of you.”
Jordan’s eyes shine dangerously. She blinks hard. “Okay. Ew. Emotional.”
Clint laughs softly. “Call me when you’re safe.”
Jordan: “Define safe.”
Clint: “Not actively bleeding.”
Jordan glances at her bandages. “No promises.”
Clint sighs. “Kid?—”
Jordan: “Bye, Clint.”
The channel cuts.
Jordan exhales and slumps back, face pinched with pain and exhaustion.
I step closer. “You good?”
She scoffs weakly. “No. But I’m alive. Apparently that’s enough for everybody.”
My voice goes low. “It is.”
Jordan’s eyes lift to mine. “What now, Lonari?”
The question is loaded. It’s about Morazin, yes. But it’s also about us. About Gur. About the fact that her truth just set the galaxy on fire and we’re standing in the middle of the smoke.
I keep my face neutral. “Now we don’t let them bury it.”
Jordan’s mouth curves faintly. “How.”
“We force a public custody handoff,” I say. “Shared jurisdiction. Open feeds. Alliance and IHC both sign, both watch, both get implicated.”
Jordan studies me, then nods slowly. “Good.”
I add, “And we go back to Gur.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Gur is a war zone.”
“Gur is my war zone,” I correct. “And the Nine will retaliate. If we’re not there, they’ll chew civilians.”
Jordan’s jaw tightens. “No civilian collateral.”
