The Ark was quiet again, though its silence felt different now. No longer dead, no longer asleep—it breathed. Glyphs pulsed faintly along the walls like veins, a slow rhythm echoing through the ship.
Kael Ardyn stood in the command chamber, staring at the wreckage drifting outside the viewport. The Council ships had fled, but their shadow lingered like smoke in his chest. He knew they would return, stronger, prepared.
Behind him, Lyra stirred on the steps of the core. She had been unconscious for nearly an hour, her body wracked from channeling the Ark's power. Now, her eyes fluttered open, the faint glow gone but the memory of it etched in Kael's mind.
"Easy," he said softly, kneeling beside her. "Don't push yourself."
She blinked, dazed, then focused on him. "Kael… did we—"
"We won," he said, though the word tasted fragile. "For now."
Her lips curved faintly. "Good. I didn't burn myself out for nothing."
Kael exhaled a shaky laugh, relief flooding him. His hand lingered against hers, calloused fingers brushing her knuckles. For a heartbeat, neither moved. The hum of the Ark filled the silence, steady and alive.
Then Rhea's voice cut in, sharp and amused. "Well, aren't you two a picture. Hero cradles the scientist, hearts all aflutter, while the smuggler cleans up the corpses."
Kael straightened, shooting her a look. Rhea lounged against a crystalline spire, polishing her pistols with exaggerated care. Her grin was wicked, but her eyes gleamed with something harder.
Lyra pulled herself upright, cheeks warming. "I was stabilizing the synchronization link, not—"
"Not what?" Rhea teased. "Not melting into our fearless leader's arms?"
Kael's patience snapped. "Enough, Rhea."
Her grin widened, sharp as a blade. "Relax. I'm only pointing out what everyone with eyes can see."
Sentinel's voice rumbled through the chamber, neutral yet cutting. "Interpersonal distractions reduce efficiency. The Ark requires focus."
Kael sighed. "Finally, something we agree on."
Hours later, the crew gathered in what passed for a strategy room—an alien chamber reshaped by Sentinel into a crude holo-projection hub.
The map showed the Frontier sector, scattered with drifting colonies, outlaw havens, and storm-wracked voids. The Council's territory loomed like a shadowed hand curling around it.
"We can't stay here," Kael began. "The Council knows where we are. The cult knows too. If we wait, they'll pin us between them."
Rhea kicked her boots onto the table. "So what's the plan, Captain? Run until our engines fry?"
"Not run. Hit back," Kael said firmly. "We find allies. Colonies, smugglers, anyone tired of the Council's chokehold. The Ark gives us leverage, but only if we have people willing to stand with us."
Lyra frowned thoughtfully. "There are free colonies near the Rim—settlements the Council barely recognizes. They've been resisting for years, quietly. If we can reach them, they might listen."
Rhea snorted. "Or sell us to the highest bidder."
Lyra's eyes flashed. "Not everyone is like you."
The air between them sparked. Kael cut in before it ignited. "We'll take the risk. But we can't show up in an ancient alien warship and expect them to welcome us. We'll need subtlety."
Rhea smirked. "Subtlety? From you? Now I've heard everything."
Kael ignored her. "We'll use the courier. Smaller, less conspicuous. Sentinel can mask the Ark's signature while we're away."
Sentinel inclined its head. "Possible. But dangerous. Leaving the Ark undefended invites infiltration."
Kael's jaw tightened. "We don't have a choice."
Later, as the courier prepared for launch, Kael found Rhea in the hangar. She was checking her gear with practiced efficiency, her movements sharp and clipped.
"You've been quiet," Kael said, leaning against the bulkhead.
Rhea didn't look up. "Not quiet. Watching."
Kael folded his arms. "Something on your mind?"
Her gaze flicked to him, cool and appraising. "You're different, Kael. Used to be, you only looked out for yourself. Now you've got this scientist in your orbit and suddenly you're ready to start a rebellion."
Kael's jaw tightened. "What's your point?"
"My point," Rhea said, holstering a pistol, "is that attachments make you sloppy. I've seen men lose everything because they couldn't think past the person they wanted to protect."
Kael pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "And I've seen men lose everything because they never had anyone worth protecting."
For a moment, their eyes locked. Old history flared between them—familiar, sharp-edged, unresolved. Then Rhea smirked, breaking the tension.
"Careful, Kael. If you keep talking like that, I might think you've grown a soul."
The courier slipped away from the Ark, engines low, weaving into the storm-veiled lanes of the Frontier. Lyra manned the scanners, Rhea lounged in the co-pilot seat, and Kael flew, his focus steady.
They aimed for a Rim colony known as Halver's Reach, a mining settlement rumored to harbor smugglers and freedom fighters.
But halfway through the journey, alarms flared.
Lyra's eyes widened. "I'm picking up a signal—broadcasting on encrypted Council frequencies."
Kael cursed, adjusting controls. "From where?"
Her hands flew over the console. "From us."
Rhea froze, then stood slowly. "Now, let's not get dramatic—"
Kael spun on her, fury in his eyes. "You planted a beacon."
She lifted her hands, mock-innocent. "Insurance. A girl's gotta keep her options open."
Lyra's voice shook with outrage. "You sold us out? After everything?"
Rhea's smirk faltered, but only for an instant. "I didn't sell you. Yet. I just… left a door open. In case this whole suicide crusade goes belly-up."
Kael's fists clenched. "You put us all at risk."
Rhea's eyes hardened, dropping the playfulness. "I put myself at risk the moment I signed on with you. Don't pretend you wouldn't have done the same in my boots."
The silence burned. Then Lyra's console screamed. "Council interceptors—closing fast!"
Kael snapped back to the controls. "Strap in!"
The courier jolted as plasma fire streaked past its hull. Three sleek interceptors swooped in, weapons blazing.
Kael dove the ship into a storm current, lightning flashing around them. "Rhea, turrets! Now!"
She hesitated for a heartbeat—then swore and scrambled to the gunner's chair. "Fine, but we're not done talking about this!"
Lyra clung to her console, rerouting power to shields. "I can give you an extra twenty percent, but it'll drain reserves fast!"
"Do it!" Kael growled, weaving the ship through the storm.
Rhea's cannons roared, tearing one interceptor apart. But the other two pressed harder, boxing them in.
Kael gritted his teeth, sweat slicking his palms. He'd flown through a thousand firefights, but this was different. The crew behind him mattered. Lyra mattered. He wouldn't lose her—not here.
He pulled the courier into a near-vertical climb, storm winds buffeting the hull. Plasma fire seared past them, but then the ship dropped suddenly, spinning into a dive. The interceptors overshot, and Rhea's cannons lit up, shredding the second.
The last interceptor veered, breaking off.
Breathless silence filled the cockpit.
Kael set the courier on a drifting vector, hands trembling against the controls. He turned slowly to Rhea, who was panting, hair plastered to her face.
"You ever pull something like that again," he said quietly, dangerously, "and I'll space you myself."
Rhea met his gaze, her smirk gone. For once, she looked almost human, almost regretful. "Fair enough."
Lyra's voice was soft but sharp. "You nearly killed us."
Rhea didn't answer. She just looked away, jaw tight.
Kael exhaled, steadying himself. "Halver's Reach is still ahead. We'll make for it. But from now on—we move as one. No more games."
He looked at Lyra, whose eyes met his with a mixture of fear and faith. And in that look, Kael found the steel to push forward.