Chapter 24 #2
“Two minutes,” Emma called out. Another volley streaked past, closer this time. The ship shuddered as something grazed their shields. “Doren—”
“I know.”
He did know. The math was simple, brutal. They weren’t going to make it. The Grorn ship would be in optimal weapons range within ninety seconds, and then their shields would fail, and then—
Ari began to glow again.
The light was different this time. Brighter, more focused, concentrated on her small hands where they pressed against the console Emma had set her near while strapping in. The baby wasn’t crying, wasn’t scared—she looked determined, her dark eyes fixed on something only she could see.
The Vagabond’s systems flickered.
And then the ship moved.
It wasn’t anything Doren did. The controls went strange under his hands, responding to commands he hadn’t given.
The engines surged with power they shouldn’t have possessed—ancient systems that Rjmar had told him were decorative, non-functional, holdovers from the ship’s mysterious past before it had been stripped and rebuilt a dozen times.
Not decorative, Doren realized with a flash of understanding. Dormant. Waiting for an Aurelian to wake them up.
The Vagabond leapt forward with acceleration that should have liquefied everyone aboard. It didn’t—some kind of inertial dampening that hadn’t been there before. The stars stretched into lines.
They hit hyperspace without needing to reach safe distance.
Behind them, the Grorn ship vanished, left behind in a reality that suddenly seemed very far away.
Silence.
The hyperspace tunnel swirled around them, blue and silver and impossibly beautiful. Doren sat frozen at the controls, his hands still gripping levers that no longer responded to his input.
“What just happened?” Emma’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Doren couldn’t answer. Couldn’t do anything except stare at the baby in Emma’s arms—the baby who had just accessed Precursor technology through a ship that shouldn’t have any, who had somehow known exactly what to do, who had saved them with abilities that defied everything he thought he understood.
Ari yawned, her small face scrunching up adorably, and then she was asleep.
“She...” Emma looked down at her, then up at Doren. “She did that?”
“Yeah.” His voice came out rough, scraped raw by emotion he couldn’t name. “She did that.”
The cockpit lights returned to normal as the ship’s systems stabilized, the borrowed power fading back into dormancy. Whatever ancient mechanisms Ari had awakened, they were resting again, waiting for the next time they were needed.
Doren finally released the controls. His hands were shaking.
“We need to talk,” he said.
He set the autopilot and led Emma to the main cabin, helping her settle into the cushioned bench with Ari still sleeping in her arms. Then he paced, unable to keep still, his tail twitching with agitation.
“That was too close.” The words felt inadequate. “Way too close. If Ari hadn’t—if the waystation hadn’t—”
“I know.”
“They knew we were coming, Emma. They were waiting for us. The Grorn have figured out what we’re doing, where we’re going. Every waystation we visit, every step we take towards finding the other Keys—they’ll be there. And next time we might not have ancient defense systems to bail us out.”
“I know.” Emma’s voice was calm, steady, the same tone she probably used with frightened children. “What are you saying?”
He stopped pacing and turned to face her. “I’m saying this has to end. No more waystations. No more searching for Keys. We stop trying to do this on our own and ask for help.”
“Help for what?”
“Help to keep you alive!” The words exploded out of him. “To keep Ari alive. That’s all that matters now. Not the Vault, not the technology inside it, not any of the things I’ve spent my whole life chasing. Just... you. Both of you.”
She was quiet for a long moment. Ari shifted in her arms, making a soft sound that might have been agreement or might have been nothing.
“You don’t mean that,” she finally said.
“I do.”
“No.” She shook her head slowly. “You mean it right now, in this moment, because you’re scared.
But tomorrow, or next week, or next month, you’ll start thinking about everything we learned.
About the other Keys, and the other species who might be in danger just like Ari.
About the Grorn and what they’ll do if they find the Vault first.” She met his eyes.
“And you’ll hate yourself for giving up. ”
His chest ached. “I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that. No one knows that. We just got shot at, Emma. By fanatics who want to cut Ari open and study her organs. This is war, and we’re outgunned and outmaneuvered and running out of luck.”
“Then we find allies.” Emma stood, still holding the sleeping baby, and walked to him. “We get help. We don’t stop fighting just because the fight is hard.”
“And if fighting gets you killed?”
“Then at least I’ll have died trying to do something that mattered.
” She reached up with her free hand, cupping his cheek.
“Doren. I didn’t choose this life. None of us did.
But we’re in it now, and running won’t make the Grorn disappear.
It’ll just mean they catch up to us later, when we’re tired and alone and have nowhere left to go. ”
He closed his eyes. Her touch was warm against his fur, grounding him in a way that words couldn’t.
“I love you.” The admission came out rough and unplanned. “I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know how. But somewhere between the Ithyian ship and now, I fell in love with you, and the thought of losing you makes me want to burn the galaxy down.”
Her breath caught. “Doren...”
“I’ve never had anything worth protecting before.
Not really. There were people I cared about—Rjmar, Athtar, others—but I could always walk away.
That was my gift, my survival skill. Being able to walk away before it hurts.
To keep moving before anyone gets close enough to matter.
” He opened his eyes, met hers. “I can’t walk away from you. ”
“Then don’t.” She smiled, soft and warm and somehow still hopeful despite everything. “Stay. Fight. But fight with me, not for me. We’re partners, remember? Package deal.”
Partners. The word settled into his chest, uncomfortable and perfect at the same time.
“You’re infuriating,” he said.
“So I’ve been told.”
He kissed her then, because he didn’t have words for what he was feeling. She kissed him back, careful not to wake the baby between them.
When they broke apart, her eyes were shining. “We’ll find another way. But I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“Promise you won’t make decisions like this alone. No more ‘I have to protect you by shutting you out.’ No more ‘this is too dangerous, stay behind.’ We face things together, or we don’t face them at all.”
It went against every instinct he had. Every lesson life had taught him about keeping people at arm’s length, about being ready to run at a moment’s notice.
But those lessons had been wrong. He was only starting to understand how wrong.
“I promise,” he said.
She nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now help me put Ari down, and then let’s figure out our next move.”
Later, while Ari slept peacefully in her crib and the hyperspace tunnel carried them towards safety, Doren sat at the nav console and studied the star maps they’d collected.
Three waystation locations remained unexplored. One was deep in Grorn-controlled space—suicide to approach. Another was in the Disputed Territories, dangerous but potentially manageable. The third...
The third was in the Kaisarian Empire. Protected space, heavily patrolled, and virtually impossible to enter without proper authorization. Unless someone knew they were coming. And unless someone was willing to help.
He’d fought this option for a long time, unwilling to share anything he’d learned with the Imperial government. But he’d come to realize that this was about more than just what he wanted, more than just keeping Emma safe. He couldn’t stand against the Grorn. The Royal Fleet could.
Before he could change his mind, he sent a message to Athtar and asked him to forward it to the Emperor’s senior advisor. He might be making a deal with the devil, but as he powered down the console and went to join Emma in their cabin, he had no regrets.