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“Break nothing I just fixed.” Cass grabbed her coffee, half turning to me. She shook herself, a flush creeping up her neck, then walked off the bridge. Her boots echoed down the corridor, and the ship’s lighting brightened along her path, guiding her like she belonged here.

She did. And she belonged with me. My bond confirmed this human was mine.

The ship hummed low and steady around me. Whatever Cass had done in the room, whatever trust she’d built, it had changed the Chorus. My ship wasn’t fighting anymore. She was waiting.

“You want her too, don’t you?” I whispered. “She’s the perfect fit. But how can we convince her to stay with us? And if you suggest gluing her to the floor with resin, your mainframe gets a hard reset.”

The lights flickered once, and soft laughter drifted past me.

“She joins us willingly, or we let her go. Her happiness is the most important thing to both of us.”

I got another flicker as I sat in the co-pilot’s seat and stared at the empty anchor slot on the display.

Anger burned through my frustration. My uncle hadn’t replied to my message. He knew I needed to speak to him. Every communication he received got logged, every query answered, every loose thread tied before it could unravel.

I sent another message. I know about the Hollow Chorus and Habor. Is he dead? Did you have anything to do with his death?

That would get his attention.

My focus shifted to the data files. Fragments came through, corrupted, partial, but enough to build a timeline that made my stomach turn. The captain’s bond had been severed a day before the fire. The ship kept running without her anchor, cycling, disoriented, searching for the signal that had been ripped away.

My comm pinged, and I grabbed it off the console. It was a new encrypted thread from my uncle.

Let’s talk. You’re on Earth.

It wasn’t a question. He always watched us.

On Earth. Trying to get the Hollow Chorus fixed. Guess you figured that out, too?

Who’s working on her?

Dead Stick Salvage. Heard they’re the best.

They are. We own the Pier Nine building in the business quarter, close to their HQ. Come at eight o’clock. We’ll figure out what to do with your ship.

Chapter 15

Cass

The seared tuna was so good I almost forgot we were solving a conspiracy involving ghostly aliens and Rennick’s fucked up family.

Almost. Tambi had the dead crew manifest data open on the virtual board before the first course hit the table, red lines connecting the scrubbed captain’s node to the falsified sale documents, and she’d eaten her wagyu tartare one-handed while color-coding her timeline with the other. The woman was a machine. A machine that loved connecting the dots.

Our dining room sat at the top of the yard’s converted warehouse, all exposed steel beams and floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the docked ships. Doc had picked the interiors when we’d renovated. Hand-blown glass pendants over the table and reclaimed teak. She’d argued that if we were working with alien ships all day that could kill us, we deserved a little luxury. And this was a whole lot of luxury. None of us fought her.

“So, somebody with deep access scrubbed the captain’s bond from the matrix, and Rennick’s family member was all over the records they buried.” Monica licked sauce from her thumb. “And our hot alien client has no idea who did this?”

I reached for the wine. A Sancerre that Doc had shipped in by the case. “He knows now.”

“What’s he planning on doing about it?” Tambi asked.

“So far, nothing. He messaged his uncle to learn more.”

“Do we need to worry about Rennick making a dumb move?” Tambi’s gaze flicked to me.

“How should I know?”

“Pillow talk,” Monica said. “Or was it all humping and no sweet words?”