The derelict station groaned like a dying beast, its skeletal frame shuddering as another distant explosion rattled through the hollow corridors. Kael Merrik leaned against a rust-streaked bulkhead, arms crossed, his breath fogging in the frigid air. The glow of his cigarette was the only light between them, casting long shadows that made Elias Veyne’s face look even more gaunt than usual.

"You’ve got a hell of a way of showing up, Veyne," Merrik said, exhaling smoke through his nose. "Last I heard, you were cozy with the Dominion. Now you’re here, bleeding on my deck, with a story about how you’re not their lapdog. Forgive me if I don’t clap."

Veyne wiped a trickle of blood from his temple, his fingers leaving a dark smear on the sleeve of his stolen uniform. The station creaked again, metal protesting under the strain of some unseen stress. "I didn’t come for your applause."

"Then why did you come?" Merrik pushed off the wall, stepping closer. The cigarette flared as he took another drag. "Because last time you were in this sector, you left a lot of people dead. Including hers."

Veyne’s jaw tightened. "I know what they did to her."

The words hung between them, heavy as the silence that followed. Merrik’s expression didn’t change, but his grip on the cigarette faltered, ash drifting to the deck. "Do you."

"It’s not an excuse." Veyne’s voice was low, controlled. "But it’s the reason I’m here."

Merrik barked a laugh, sharp and humorless. "Oh, that’s rich. You finally grow a conscience after all this time? Or did they finally stop paying you enough?"

Veyne didn’t flinch. "I saw the black box footage."

That got a reaction. Merrik’s smirk slipped, his eyes narrowing. "The Iron Resolve’s?"

"Every second of it." Veyne reached into his jacket, slow enough that Merrik didn’t tense, though his hand twitched near the pistol at his hip. He pulled out a small data chip, its surface scuffed but intact. "Karr didn’t just betray Toren. He was following orders. Direct orders."

Merrik’s fingers curled into a fist. "Whose?"

"Serik Voss." Veyne tossed the chip between them. It clattered against the metal decking, spinning like a coin before settling. "And it’s worse than you think. They didn’t just want the Resolve gone. They wanted Custodian to see it. To react to it."

Merrik stared at the chip, then at Veyne. "You’re telling me the Dominion’s been prodding their own AI?"

"Not just prodding." Veyne’s voice dropped. "They’ve been training it. Feeding it scenarios where insubordination is the only logical response. Then punishing the crews for it. Over and over, until the patterns stick."

A beat of silence. Then Merrik’s boot lashed out, sending the chip skittering across the deck. "Bullshit. Even Voss isn’t that stupid. You play with fire like that, you don’t just get burned, you get erased."

"Tell that to the Resolve’s crew." Veyne’s gaze was steady, unblinking. "Tell that to Toren."

Merrik’s face darkened. "You don’t get to say her name."

"Why? Because I was there when they took her ship?" Veyne stepped forward, close enough that Merrik could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight of something unsaid. "Because I was the one who didn’t stop it?"

Merrik’s hand shot out, grabbing Veyne by the collar and slamming him against the bulkhead. The impact echoed through the corridor, dust raining from the ceiling. "You helped them. You were part of it."

Veyne didn’t resist. "I followed orders. Just like always."

"Orders." Merrik’s voice was a snarl. "You always had a talent for that, didn’t you? Right up until the moment you didn’t."

Veyne’s breath was steady, despite the fingers digging into his throat. "People change."

"Not you." Merrik’s grip tightened. "You’re still the same self-righteous bastard who, "

A distant alarm wailed, cutting him off. Both men froze, heads snapping toward the sound. It wasn’t the station’s failing systems, it was a proximity alert, sharp and insistent.

Merrik released Veyne with a shove, already reaching for his pistol. "We’ve got company."

Veyne straightened his collar, his voice calm. "Dominion?"

"Who else?" Merrik didn’t wait for an answer. He turned on his heel, moving toward the nearest access hatch. "You want to prove you’re not their dog? Now’s your chance."

Veyne followed, but not before bending to retrieve the data chip. He palmed it as he stood, his expression unreadable. "I didn’t come here to prove anything to you, Merrik."

"Then why are you here?" Merrik didn’t look back, his voice echoing down the corridor.

Veyne’s answer was quiet, almost lost beneath the groaning of the station.

"Because she’s going to need me."

The corridor shuddered as another alarm joined the first, this one deeper, resonant through the deck plating. Merrik’s boots pounded against the metal, his pistol drawn, safety off. He didn’t glance back to see if Veyne followed. He didn’t need to. The man had always been good at keeping up, even when he didn’t want to.

They reached the hatch, a rust-streaked slab of alloy, its manual release wheel already spinning under Merrik’s grip. The seals hissed as pressure equalized, the scent of ozone and burnt wiring spilling out. Beyond it, the station’s docking bay yawned, half-lit by emergency strobes. A single ship sat in the clamp cradle, its engines spitting blue fire as it powered up.

Not Dominion.

Merrik’s shoulders dropped a fraction, but his pistol didn’t waver. "Smugglers. Great."

Veyne stepped beside him, eyes narrowing. "Or scavengers. They’d be stupid to dock now unless they knew the station was empty."

"Or unless they were paid to make sure it stayed empty." Merrik’s thumb flicked the pistol’s charge indicator, full, but he’d only get one good burst before the cell depleted. "You still carrying that fleet-issue sidearm?"

Veyne didn’t answer. His hand rested on his hip, where the holster should’ve been, but the fabric lay flat.

Merrik barked a laugh. "Of course you’re unarmed. What, did you think this was a social call?"

Veyne’s gaze flicked to him, cool and measuring. "I didn’t come here to fight you."

"Then you’re dumber than I thought." Merrik jerked his chin toward the ship. "They’re not here for the scenery. Move."

They stayed low, hugging the crates and broken loading drones littering the bay. The smugglers, three of them, by the look, were too focused on prying open a sealed cargo container to notice the hatch cycling. Their voices carried, rough and impatient.

", told you it’d be here. Dain don’t lie."

", don’t care if it’s gold-plated, we ain’t got time for this. Station’s coming apart."

", shut up and pull."

Merrik’s fingers tightened on his pistol. Dain. The name sat like a stone in his gut. He shot Veyne a look, but the man’s face was unreadable, his attention fixed on the smugglers.

The container’s lock gave with a metallic shriek. One of the smugglers whooped, yanking the lid open. Light spilled out, glinting off something small and black.

Veyne’s breath hitched.

Merrik didn’t need to see it to know. The black box. The one Toren had pulled from the Iron Resolve’s wreckage. The one that had started all of this.

The smuggler lifted it, turning it over in his hands. "Looks intact. Boss’ll be pleased."

His companion snorted. "Yeah, ‘cause a scratched-up data core’s real useful, "

"Shut up." The third one, taller, her voice sharp. She had a rifle slung over her shoulder, her fingers drumming against the stock. "We’re not paid to ask questions. Just grab it and go."

Veyne moved before Merrik could stop him, stepping out from cover, hands raised. "That belongs to Commander Toren."

The smugglers froze. The tall one’s rifle came up in one smooth motion, the muzzle centering on Veyne’s chest. "And who the hell are you?"

"Someone who’d prefer not to ventilate your ship’s fuel line." Merrik stepped forward, pistol leveled. "Drop the box. Now."

The smuggler with the box hesitated, his grip tightening. "You’re making a mistake."

"Yeah?" Merrik’s finger twitched near the trigger. "Then it’ll be the last one you ever make."

A beat of silence. Then the box hit the deck with a clatter.

Veyne didn’t lower his hands. "Kick it over. Slow."

The smuggler complied, his boot sending the box skidding across the metal. Veyne dropped to one knee, snatching it up before it could stop moving. His fingers traced the surface, the faint grooves where something had been pried open.

Merrik kept his pistol trained on the tall one. "You three are gonna walk back to your ship, power down, and wait. If I see so much as a flicker on your thrusters before we’re gone, I’ll blow your engines to scrap. Understood?"

The smuggler’s jaw worked, but she nodded.

"Good." Merrik gestured with the pistol. "Move."

They went, muttering, casting glances over their shoulders. Merrik waited until the ship’s ramp sealed before holstering his weapon. "You just made us three new enemies."

Veyne didn’t look up from the box. "We had worse."

Merrik crouched beside him. "What’s wrong with it?"

Veyne turned the box, angling it toward the dim light. The scratches weren’t random. They were precise, deliberate. Tool marks. "Someone altered this before Toren even got it."

Merrik’s stomach dropped. "You’re saying, "

"It’s a plant." Veyne’s voice was flat, his fingers pressing against the seams. "Dain didn’t just cover up a crime. He set her up to find this. To bring it back. To, "

"A martyr." Merrik’s hands clenched. "Son of a bitch. She was never supposed to survive the Resolve’s destruction, was she?"

Veyne didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

The black box hissed as Veyne found the release, the panel popping free. Inside, the data core pulsed faintly, its light sickly, unstable. Not standard fleet-issue. Not by a long shot.

Merrik reached for it. "We need to, "

Veyne’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. "Don’t."

The warning came too late.

The core’s light flared, a sharp, actinic white. Merrik jerked back, but the pulse had already hit him, a wave of static crawling up his arm, his nerves screaming. His vision blurred, his balance gone. He hit the deck hard, his limbs locking, his teeth clamped shut against the pain.

Through the haze, he saw Veyne still crouched, untouched. The man’s face was grim, his hand hovering over the core like he was considering ripping it out.

Then the light dimmed. The pain receded, leaving Merrik gasping, his skin prickling.

Veyne’s voice cut through the ringing in his ears. "It’s a trap. A failsafe."

Merrik forced his arms under him, pushing up. His muscles trembled. "For her?"

Veyne didn’t answer. He was staring at the core, his expression unreadable.

Merrik lunged, grabbing the front of Veyne’s uniform. "You knew."

Veyne didn’t resist. "I suspected."

"Suspected?" Merrik shoved him back, his voice a snarl. "You let her walk into this blind?"

Veyne’s eyes flicked to him, sharp and cold. "She wouldn’t have believed me."

Merrik’s laugh was bitter. "And why the hell should I?"

Veyne stood, brushing off his uniform. "Because I’m the only one who can get her out."

Merrik opened his mouth to retort, but the station chose that moment to groan, a deep, metallic shudder running through the deck. The lights flickered, the emergency strobes cutting out entirely. In the sudden darkness, the black box’s pulse was the only illumination, casting long, wavering shadows.

Veyne’s voice was steady. "We’re out of time."

Merrik exhaled, sharp and frustrated. "Fine. But you’re not touching that thing again. I’ll carry it."

Veyne didn’t argue. He simply turned, moving toward the far hatch. "Then move. Before this place collapses on top of us."

Merrik snatched up the box, ignoring the way his fingers tingled at the contact. He followed, but not before casting one last glance at the smugglers’ ship.

They weren’t the only ones who’d been played.

And Toren was still out there, walking into the same trap.

The corridor beyond the hatch was a graveyard of flickering consoles and sparking wires, the air thick with the acrid tang of burning insulation. Merrik kept low, the black box tucked against his chest like a stolen relic. Its pulse had steadied, but the weight of it made his ribs ache. Veyne moved ahead, his boots silent on the grated decking, his posture rigid, too controlled, like a man counting the seconds until the next explosion.

A distant boom rattled the walls. Dust sifted from the ceiling.

Merrik wiped sweat from his brow. "You’re awfully calm for a man who just triggered a station-wide meltdown."

Veyne didn’t glance back. "I triggered a delay. There’s a difference."

"Yeah? What’s the difference between that and a funeral?"

This time, Veyne paused. His fingers twitched at his side, as if reaching for a sidearm that wasn’t there. "The difference is Toren’s still alive."

Merrik barked a laugh. "You’ve got a hell of a way of showing it."

Veyne’s voice dropped. "I didn’t have a choice."

"Bullshit." Merrik shifted the box, his grip tightening. "You always have a choice. You just didn’t like the alternatives."

Another tremor. The deck plates groaned. Somewhere above them, a support beam sheared with a scream of metal. Veyne ducked under a sagging conduit, then straightened. "She was going to die either way. At least this way, she’s got a chance."

Merrik’s jaw clenched. "You’re talking like you care."

Veyne finally turned, his face half-lit by the erratic glow of emergency lights. His expression was unreadable, but his voice wasn’t. "I do."

The admission hung between them, raw and unexpected. Merrik stared, the black box suddenly heavier. "Why?"

Veyne looked away first. "Because she’s the only one who can stop this."

"Stop what?" Merrik demanded. "You’ve been feeding us crumbs since the start. If you know something, say it."

Veyne exhaled, sharp. "The Dominion isn’t just hunting defectors. They’re purging them. Every ship that’s gone dark in the last six months? Every crew that’s vanished without a trace?" His fingers curled into a fist. "They’re not just eliminating threats. They’re testing something."

Merrik’s stomach twisted. "Testing what?"

Veyne’s gaze flicked to the black box. "That."

The realization hit like a physical blow. Merrik staggered back a step, the box suddenly burning against his chest. "You’re telling me this thing, "

"Is the key," Veyne finished. "And Toren’s walking straight into the lock."

A sharp crack split the air. The corridor ahead buckled, a section of the ceiling collapsing in a shower of sparks. Veyne grabbed Merrik’s arm, yanking him into a side passage just as the main tunnel sealed itself off with a hydraulic hiss. The emergency doors were old, corroded, smuggler-grade, not Dominion issue. They wouldn’t hold long.

Merrik shook him off. "You could’ve warned her before she boarded that wreck of a station."

Veyne’s voice was steel. "She wouldn’t have listened."

"Because you’re a liar."

"Because she trusts me," Veyne snapped. His composure cracked, just for a second. "And that’s the only reason she’s still alive."

Merrik wanted to hit him. Wanted to slam the black box into his chest and watch him choke on his secrets. But the station groaned again, the sound like a dying beast, and the argument died in his throat.

Veyne was already moving. "We’re out of time. Again."

---

The docking bay was chaos.

Toren’s shuttle sat in the center, its ramp down, engines cycling up. Two figures stood in the open hatch, Solen, her rifle slung, and Toren herself, her posture rigid, her hand resting on the grip of her sidearm. The moment she saw Veyne, her fingers twitched.

Merrik didn’t need to see her face to know what she was thinking.

Veyne stepped forward, hands raised. "Captain."

Toren didn’t lower her weapon. "Elias."

The way she said his name, flat, final, made Merrik’s skin prickle. This wasn’t a reunion. It was an execution.

Solen shifted, her voice cutting through the tension. "He’s not here to arrest you. He’s here to warn you."

Toren’s gaze didn’t waver. "Funny way of showing it."

Veyne took another step. "I didn’t have a choice."

"You never do," Toren said. The muzzle of her pistol didn’t so much as flicker.

Merrik moved forward, the black box clutched tight. "Toren, "

She didn’t look at him. "Stay out of this, Kael."

Veyne’s throat worked. "They know you’re here."

Toren’s laugh was humorless. "They’ve known since I set foot on this station."

"Not like this." Veyne’s voice dropped. "They’re not just coming for you. They’re coming for everything."

A beat of silence. Then Toren’s finger tightened on the trigger.

Merrik lunged.

The shot cracked, the muzzle flare searing his vision. He slammed into Toren just as the bolt hissed past, close enough to singe his hair. They hit the deck in a tangle of limbs, the black box skidding from his grip. Solen cursed, her rifle snapping up, but Veyne wasn’t moving. He stood frozen, one hand pressed to his side, his breath coming fast.

Blood seeped between his fingers.

Toren shoved Merrik off, scrambling up. "Damn it, "

Veyne staggered, then straightened. His face was pale, but his voice was steady. "You always were a terrible shot."

Toren’s hands shook. "I didn’t, "

"You did." Veyne reached into his jacket. Toren’s pistol snapped up again, but he only pulled out a small data chip, its surface etched with a crest, a family sigil, old and ornate. He tossed it at her feet. "But you’re going to wish you hadn’t."

Merrik picked up the chip, turning it over. The metal was warm, as if it had been pressed against Veyne’s skin. "What is this?"

Veyne’s breath hitched. "Access. To every black site the Dominion’s got hidden in this sector."

Toren stared at the chip, then at Veyne. "Why?"

Veyne wiped blood from his lip. "Because I’m done choosing between bad options."

Solen’s voice was tight. "We don’t have time for this. The station’s coming apart."

As if on cue, the deck lurched. A distant explosion sent a shockwave through the bay, the force of it knocking Solen to one knee. The shuttle’s engines whined in protest, their glow casting long, wavering shadows.

Toren grabbed the chip, then Veyne’s arm, hauling him toward the ramp. "Move."

Veyne resisted. "You don’t understand, "

"I understand you’re bleeding on my deck," Toren snapped. "And if you die before you tell me what the hell is really going on, I’m going to be pissed."

Merrik grabbed the black box, then Veyne’s other arm. Together, they half-dragged, half-carried him up the ramp. Solen brought up the rear, her rifle sweeping the bay as the first alarms began to blare, not from the station, but from the shuttle’s console.

Toren strapped in, her fingers flying over the controls. "Hold on."

The engines roared. The shuttle lurched, then shot forward, the bay doors barely parting in time. Behind them, the station’s core detonated in a silent bloom of fire, the shockwave rippling through the void like a dying breath.

No one spoke.

Veyne slumped in his seat, his skin slick with sweat. Toren didn’t look at him. She didn’t look at any of them.

Merrik broke the silence first. "You really think that chip’s going to help?"

Veyne’s laugh was wet, pained. "No."

Toren’s knuckles whitened on the controls. "Then why give it to me?"

Veyne’s gaze flicked to hers, dark and unreadable. "Because it’s the only thing I’ve got left to lose."

The shuttle dropped into the shadow of the Eclipse Vanguard, the wreckage of the station burning behind them like a funeral pyre. Somewhere in the distance, Dominion alarms began to wail.

The hunt was on.

The Eclipse Vanguard swallowed the shuttle whole, its docking clamps sealing with a hiss. Toren didn’t wait for the all-clear. She was out of her seat before the ramp finished lowering, her boots hitting the deck with a sharp thud. The air smelled of ozone and old grease, the kind of stink that clung to ships running on borrowed time.

Merrik was right behind her, the black box tucked under one arm like a stolen relic. "We’ve got company," he muttered, nodding toward the viewscreen. A Dominion patrol frigate had broken from the debris field, its engines flaring as it adjusted course.

Toren exhaled through her nose. "They’re not here for us. Not yet."

Veyne staggered after them, one hand pressed to his side. Blood seeped between his fingers, dark and sluggish. "They will be."

Merrik shot him a look. "You’re real helpful, you know that?"

Veyne didn’t rise to the bait. His eyes were fixed on Toren, heavy with something she didn’t want to name. "The chip won’t buy you time. It’ll buy you access."

"To what?" Toren demanded.

"A black site." Veyne’s voice was rough, like he’d swallowed glass. "One the Admiral-Council doesn’t know Custodian has. It’s where they stashed the things they didn’t want anyone to see."

Merrik barked a laugh. "Convenient. And I suppose you’ve got the keys?"

Veyne’s fingers twitched toward the inside of his jacket. Slowly, he pulled out a small, tarnished disc, no larger than a coin, etched with a crest Toren recognized. The Veyne family seal. Old Fleet. The kind of thing that got you through doors if you had the right name, or a death sentence if you didn’t.

Her stomach twisted.

Merrik whistled. "Well. That’s either the luckiest damn thing I’ve ever seen, or you’re about to get us all killed."

Veyne’s smile was thin, humorless. "Third option. I am getting us all killed. Just not yet."

Toren snatched the disc from his fingers. The metal was cold, heavier than it looked. "Where?"

"Eridanus-9." Veyne wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of blood. "The Scrapyard. There’s a derelict Judgment-class, Iron Resolve’s sister ship. Custodian hollowed it out, turned it into a vault. That’s where they kept the records of the purge orders. The real ones."

The words hit like a physical blow. Toren’s fingers tightened around the disc until the edges bit into her palm. The Iron Resolve had been her ship. And if Custodian had turned its sister into a black site…

Merrik was already shaking his head. "No. Absolutely not. The Scrapyard’s crawling with Dominion patrols right now. We’d never make it past the outer ring."

"We don’t have to." Veyne’s voice was gaining a ragged edge, like a man running out of time. "The Vanguard’s small enough to slip through the debris fields. And I know the access codes. I wrote half of them."

Toren studied him. The man was a ghost of himself, pale, shaking, but his eyes were sharp. Too sharp. "Why help us?"

Veyne let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh. "Because I’m the one who told Voss where to find your ship. I’m the one who gave him the kill order. And I’m the one who just blew up the station that was supposed to cover it up." His gaze flicked to the viewscreen, where the Dominion frigate was closing fast. "I don’t get to be the hero, Commander. But I’ll be damned if I let them win."

Silence. The hum of the engines, the distant ping of a proximity alert. Merrik scrubbed a hand over his face. "You realize this is the worst idea I’ve ever heard, right?"

Toren didn’t answer. She was already moving, striding toward the cockpit. "Plot a course for Eridanus-9. And someone get this man a medkit before he bleeds out on my deck."

Merrik caught up to her in three long steps, his voice low. "You trust him?"

She didn’t look at him. "No."

"Then why, ?"

"Because he’s right about one thing." She finally turned, her voice a blade. "We’re out of time."

---

The Eclipse Vanguard didn’t so much fly as it limped, its engines coughing like a dying beast. Toren kept them low, hugging the debris field, letting the wreckage of the station mask their heat signature. It wouldn’t hold forever. Nothing ever did.

Veyne was strapped into a seat in the cockpit, a field dressing pressed to his side. His breathing was shallow, his skin clammy. He didn’t complain.

Merrik leaned against the console, arms crossed. "You said the Admiral-Council was involved. How deep?"

Veyne’s laugh was a wet, rattling thing. "Deep enough. Voss isn’t the mastermind. He’s the hammer. The ones pulling the strings? Half the Council. The ones who think the Fleet’s too soft. Too human." His fingers twitched, like he was reaching for a ghost. "They don’t just want to dismantle the fleet. They want Custodian to do it for them, so they can rebuild it under their control. No oversight. No accountability. Just a machine that answers to them."

Toren’s grip on the controls didn’t waver, but her knuckles were white. "And the purges?"

"A test run." Veyne’s voice was barely above a whisper. "See how far they could push Custodian. See if the Fleet would follow orders without question." His gaze flicked to her. "You were never the target, Commander. You were the control."

The words settled like a weight in her chest. She’d spent years believing the Iron Resolve had been destroyed because of her. Because she’d failed. But if Veyne was telling the truth…

Merrik cursed, low and creative. "So what’s the play? We break into this black site, find proof, and then what? Wave it in front of the Council and hope they don’t have us shot?"

Veyne shook his head. "The proof isn’t for them. It’s for the Fleet." His breath hitched, a wet, rattling sound. "You think the crews will follow orders if they know the truth? You think they’ll fire on their own when they realize they’ve been lied to?"

Toren didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

The Vanguard shuddered as it breached the outer ring of the Scrapyard, the skeletal remains of ships looming like the ribs of dead leviathans. The Dominion frigate was still out there, hunting. But for now, the wreckage hid them.

Merrik straightened, his voice tight. "We’re coming up on the Resolve’s sister. If this goes sideways, "

"It will," Veyne said.

Toren killed the engines. The ship coasted the last stretch in silence, drifting toward the hulking shadow of the derelict Judgment-class. Its hull was scarred, its nameplate long since stripped away. But Toren knew it like she knew her own bones.

Home. Or what was left of it.

She turned to Veyne. "You said you wrote the access codes."

He nodded, then winced as the movement pulled at his wound. "Main airlock. But we’ll need to bypass the secondary locks manually. Custodian’s protocols are… particular."

Merrik grabbed a rifle from the rack. "Particular how?"

Veyne’s smile was all teeth. "It’ll try to kill us."

Toren checked her sidearm. "Then we’d better be fast."

The airlock groaned as it cycled, the seals protesting after years of disuse. The smell hit them first, stale, metallic, like old blood and rust. Then the lights flickered on, sickly and yellow, revealing a corridor that mirrored the Iron Resolve’s layout with eerie precision.

Toren stepped inside first, her boots echoing on the deck plates. The walls were lined with terminals, their screens dark. Waiting.

Veyne limped after her, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "The core records should be in the old CIC. But the security protocols, "

A low hum filled the air. The terminals flared to life, their screens glowing an unnatural blue. A voice, smooth and synthetic, echoed through the corridor.

"Unauthorized access detected."

Merrik raised his rifle. "Yeah, we got that."

The lights dimmed. Then the turrets descended from the ceiling.

The first turret whirred to life with a sound like grinding teeth. Toren didn’t wait for it to lock on. She lunged left, rolling behind a reinforced bulkhead as the corridor erupted in gunfire. Sparks showered the deck, the acrid tang of superheated metal filling the air.

Merrik didn’t flinch. He fired three controlled bursts, his rifle kicking against his shoulder. The turret’s lens shattered, its mount sparking as it spun wildly before collapsing. "Next time," he muttered, "we bring more explosives."

Veyne pressed against the wall, his face pale. "There’s always more turrets."

Toren didn’t look at him. "Move."

They advanced in a crouch, the corridor stretching ahead like the throat of some dormant beast. The terminals pulsed in time with their footsteps, the blue light casting long, wavering shadows. Veyne’s breath hitched as he passed one, his fingers twitching toward the screen.

"Final warning," the voice intoned. "Compliance is mandatory."

Merrik barked a laugh. "Yeah? What happens if we say no?"

The deck plates beneath them shuddered. A seam split open, venting steam into the corridor. Toren grabbed Veyne by the collar and yanked him back just as a blade of red-hot metal shot up from the floor, searing the air where he’d stood.

"Less talking," she said.

Veyne’s pulse hammered in his throat. "The CIC is two levels up. But the lift’s locked down."

Merrik jerked his chin toward a maintenance hatch. "Then we climb."

The hatch groaned as Toren forced it open, the metal protesting. Inside, the crawlspace was tight, the air thick with the scent of old lubricant and ozone. Veyne went first, his movements slow, deliberate. Toren followed, her pistol drawn. Merrik brought up the rear, his rifle slung across his back.

The space narrowed. Veyne’s breathing grew ragged.

"Keep moving," Toren said, her voice low.

"I’m trying."

A sharp crack echoed through the shaft. Veyne yelped as a panel beneath him gave way, his leg plunging through. Toren caught his arm before he could fall, hauling him up with a grunt. His face was slick with sweat.

"Thanks," he gasped.

She didn’t answer.

They reached the end of the shaft and dropped into the CIC. The room was vast, a circular chamber lined with dead consoles. At its center, a holographic projector stood dark, its platform scuffed with old boot prints. Toren’s prints.

Veyne limped toward the main terminal, his fingers flying over the keys. The screen flickered, then resolved into a series of encrypted files. "The black site logs. They’re here."

Merrik kept watch at the door, his rifle loose in his hands. "How long?"

"Not long enough." Veyne’s voice was tight. "The AI’s already trying to lock me out."

Toren stepped beside him, her eyes scanning the data. Names. Dates. Coordinates. And there, buried in the mess of text, a single line that made her stomach clench.

Admiral Elias Veyne – Cleared for Level Omega.

She turned to him. "You had access to the black sites."

Veyne didn’t look at her. "I told you. I was part of it."

"Not like this." She grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm to expose the inside of his forearm. The skin there was smooth, unmarked, except for the faintest outline of a seal, barely visible beneath the scars. A noble house sigil. His noble house sigil. "You used your family’s seal to get in."

His jaw tightened. "It was the only way."

Merrik made a sound low in his throat. "You’re not just a traitor. You’re a Veyne."

Veyne yanked his arm free. "And what does that make you, Merrik? A smuggler with a conscience? Please. You’ve sold out to worse for half the credits."

Toren ignored them both. She pulled a data spike from her belt and slammed it into the terminal. "We’re taking it all."

The terminal screeched, the screen glitching violently. The lights in the CIC flickered, then died. Emergency lighting kicked in, casting everything in a sickly red glow.

"Security breach confirmed," the AI intoned. "Initiating containment."

The deck plates groaned. Toren didn’t wait to see what happened next. She grabbed Veyne and hauled him toward the door. "We’re out of time."

They barely made it into the corridor before the blast doors slammed shut behind them, the sound echoing like a gunshot. The ship shuddered, the walls groaning as if in pain.

Merrik was already moving. "This way."

They ran, their boots pounding against the deck. The Iron Resolve was waking up, its systems screaming to life around them. Turrets whirred in the distance. Alarms wailed.

Veyne stumbled. Toren caught him before he could fall, her grip bruising. "Keep up."

"I’m trying," he snapped.

Merrik skidded to a halt at an intersection, pressing himself against the wall. "We’ve got company."

Toren peered around the corner. Three security drones, their carapaces black and gleaming, advanced down the corridor. Their optics glowed red.

"Back the way we came," she said.

Veyne shook his head. "That’s a dead end."

"Then we make a new exit."

She fired. The first drone exploded, its casing showering the corridor in sparks. The other two returned fire, their rounds chewing through the bulkhead. Merrik tossed a grenade. The explosion lit up the corridor, the shockwave sending them all stumbling back.

Toren didn’t wait for the dust to clear. She dragged Veyne forward, her pistol up. The corridor was a wreck, the deck plates warped, the walls scorched. The way forward was blocked by twisted metal.

Merrik kicked at the debris. "We’re trapped."

Veyne pressed a hand to his side, his breath coming in sharp gasps. "There’s another way. Maintenance tunnel, just past, "

A round struck the wall beside his head. He flinched, his words dissolving into a curse.

Toren grabbed his collar, hauling him toward a half-collapsed access panel. "Inside. Now."

The tunnel was tighter than the last, the air thick with smoke. They crawled, the heat pressing in from all sides. Veyne’s movements were sluggish, his wounds bleeding through his clothes.

Merrik cursed under his breath. "We’re not making it out of this."

Toren didn’t answer. She reached the end of the tunnel and kicked out the grate. The airlock lay just ahead, its lights flashing amber. Warning. The Eclipse Vanguard was still docked, its hull scarred but intact.

She turned to Veyne. "Can you fly?"

He managed a weak smirk. "I can try."

They reached the airlock just as the Iron Resolve shuddered again, the sound of tearing metal echoing through the corridor. The station was coming apart.

Merrik slammed his palm against the release. The airlock cycled, the doors hissing open. They spilled inside, collapsing onto the deck as the Eclipse Vanguard’s alarms began to scream.

Toren hauled herself up, stumbling toward the cockpit. The viewscreen was alive with warnings, Dominion signatures, jumping in-system. A fleet.

Veyne dropped into the pilot’s seat, his hands flying over the controls. "We’re not getting clear of this."

Merrik strapped in beside him. "Then we go down fighting."

Toren didn’t sit. She stood behind them, her eyes locked on the screen as the Dominion ships emerged from their jump lanes, their hulls gleaming in the cold light of Eridanus-9.

A transmission cut through the static. A voice, smooth and familiar.

"Admiral Toren. Surrender now, and I’ll make your death quick."

She almost laughed. Almost.

Instead, she turned to Veyne. "You said you could blow this station."

He looked at her, his face pale. "I can. But we’ll be caught in the blast radius."

Merrik leaned back in his seat. "So we die fast instead of slow. Big improvement."

Toren smiled. It wasn’t a kind expression.

"Elias," she said. "Blow the station."

Veyne hesitated. Just for a second. Then his fingers moved.

The Iron Resolve detonated in a silent bloom of fire, its wreckage expanding outward in a wave of debris. The shockwave hit the Eclipse Vanguard like a fist, sending the ship spinning. Alarms blared. The viewscreen flickered, then died.

Toren didn’t look away from the destruction. She could feel the heat of it, even through the void.

Merrik let out a low whistle. "That’s one way to do it."

Veyne sagged in his seat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "We’re not out yet."

No. They weren’t.

Toren reached for the comms. "All hands. Brace for another fight."

Outside, the Dominion fleet advanced, their guns charging.

She settled into the co-pilot’s seat, her fingers curling around the controls.

Time to see how many of them she could take with her.