Mother’s eyes sweep the canyon in two seconds flat. The rubble. The claw marks. The drones still circling. The ApexCorp security team with their weapons. Voss and his crew holding the line. And us: a five-foot-two courier and a seven-foot-two gladiator, holding hands, the claiming color pulsing between them.
Her gaze catches on the bite mark above my collar. On the opalescent shimmer in Horgox’s markings. On the bond that’s visible to anyone who knows what they’re looking at.
“Stars above, Baxter.” Her voice could cut hull plating. “Just once, I’d like a simple extraction that doesn’t involve alien mating protocols.”
Despite everything, a sound escapes me that might be a laugh.
Mother turns to the corporate rep, and the temperature in the canyon drops ten degrees.
“Identify yourself and explain why you have armed personnel on my extraction site.”
“We have corporate reclamation—”
“You havenothinguntil I see documentation proving your ‘asset’ was legally detained in the first place.” She doesn’t raise her voice. Doesn’t need to. Twenty-three years of running OOPS through every crisis the Outer Rim can produce has given her an authority that makes corporate security armour look like costumes. “What I have is a preliminary evidence file from a courier AI that suggests your facility has been violating the Sentient Rights Accords since before my courier was born. What I have is an STI open-channel broadcast that’s been recordingthis entire standoff. And what I have is the beginning of a very,verybad day for ApexCorp’s legal department.”
“This is a corporate matter—”
“Thiswasa corporate matter. Now it’s an STI investigation into systematic sentient rights violations, and your armed presence on my extraction site is making my official report considerably more colourful.” Mother sips her coffee. The casual gesture in the middle of a weapons standoff is the most intimidating thing I’ve ever witnessed. “You can withdraw your team voluntarily and cooperate with the investigation. Or you can stay, in which case I add armed obstruction of an STI field operation to the charges. Your legal department can explain to a tribunal why six guards with plasma rifles seemed like the appropriate response to a mail carrier and a male who just wants to stop being called a product designation.”
Horgox’s astonishment washes warm through the bond. A small human woman dismantling corporate authority with a coffee mug and a tone of voice.
The corporate rep opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks at his security team. Looks at the OOPS shuttle, the STI transport, the drones still circling overhead recording everything.
“This isn’t over,” he says.
“I certainly hope not.” Mother’s smile is terrifying. “I’m just getting started. Now get your people off my site before I have Lieutenant Voss arrest the lot of you for trespassing on an active STI operation.”
They go. Not gracefully. The transport lifts off hard, engines hot with frustrated aggression, and the drones pull out with it, corporate surveillance retreating in the face of institutional authority that outranks them.
The canyon goes quiet.
Mother watches them leave, sips her coffee, and turns back to us.
“Well, kid. You really know how to complicate a first solo run.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Crashed your ship, freed corporate specimens, bonded with an escaped gladiator, and started an interstellar legal incident. That’s got to be some kind of record.”
“In my defence, the specimens freed themselves. I just removed the collars.”
“And the gladiator?”
“Saved my life. Multiple times. And his name is Horgox Ka’reen.”
Mother looks at Horgox properly for the first time. Studies him with the assessment of a woman who has spent twenty-three years reading people under pressure. His size, his scars, the circuit traceries, the claiming color threaded through his markings. The way his hand holds mine.
“Mr. Ka’reen.” Her voice shifts. Still authoritative, but with something underneath it that I recognise as genuine respect. “My courier speaks highly of you. Given that she’s terrible at flattery, I’m inclined to believe her.”
“Director.” His voice is rough, controlled, the carefully modulated tone of a male speaking to authority figures with a lifetime of reasons not to trust them. “I would die before harming Krilly Baxter.”
“So she mentioned.” Mother’s gaze drops to our joined hands, then to the claiming mark on my throat. “Repeatedly. At volume. Across multiple emergency channels.” She sighs, and underneath the exasperation, there’s pride. Real, maternal, hard-won pride. “You’ve got your mother’s stubbornness, kid. Mara would be proud of you.”
My eyes sting. Horgox’s thumb strokes across my knuckles once.
“Here’s what happens next.” Mother switches to operational mode. “You’re both coming with me to Junction One. STIprotective custody for Mr. Ka’reen. Full medical evaluation for both of you. Evidence chain established with Bebo’s logs as the primary record. I’ve already contacted Director Luzrak; he’s been monitoring ApexCorp’s Theta-7 operations for months and your data is the missing piece he needs to move. The hearing is expedited. We’re not giving ApexCorp time to bury this.”
“How expedited?” I ask.
