Page 68 of Honor Bound

Coleridge’s jaw tightened. He hated being interrupted mid-operation, especially by his brother. Still, he kept his expression neutral as the massive screen flickered and filled with Andri’s face.

“Coleridge,” Andri said, his voice cold and commanding. “Report.”

Coleridge kept his features carefully blank. “The mission is progressing according to plan, Director. The space lab will be in position within the hour.”

“Resistance?” Andri’s eyes narrowed, his tone deceptively calm.

A frown creased Coleridge’s brow. He leaned back, his arms relaxed along the armrests of his chair, his eyes flickered toward the tactical display.

“None. A few transports have left the planet, but nothing unusual. Our sensors have picked up no activity from either of the moons. It’s... quiet.”

Too quiet,he thought, unease creeping into his chest.

Andri’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “You sound concerned, General.”

Coleridge forced a thin smile. “Just cautious, Director. I’ve learned that quiet can be deceptive.”

Andri’s eyes glinted with something sharp and knowing. “See that you don’t disappoint me again. I’ll be watching the destruction from my ship. If you fail, Coleridge, you know what awaits you.”

The screen went dark before Coleridge could respond. His fingers curled into fists, his knuckles whitening. He drew a slow breath, his fury coiling like a Torrian viper beneath his calm exterior.

He glanced at his new first officer. “Commander Straw, you have the bridge. Maintain our position and alert me if there is any change in the situation.”

Commander Straw nodded. “Yes, General.”

Coleridge stood, adjusting the cuffs of his uniform with deliberate care. “I will be taking a shuttle to the space lab. Ensure everything remains on schedule.”

Without waiting for a response, Coleridge strode toward the lift. The tension in his chest refused to ease. His instincts were screaming at him that something was wrong—that this calm was the prelude to a storm.

He stepped into the lift, the doors closing behind him with a hiss. His eyes burned with cold determination.

If there was trouble brewing aboard the space lab, he would deal with it personally.

He would not fail. Not this time.

And if anyone dared stand in his way, including his son, they would die an agonizing death along with the rest of Tesla Terra.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the hiss of the airlock sealed behind him as Coleridge stepped onto the main deck of the Legion space lab,his eyes adjusting to the stark, sterile lighting that illuminated the corridors. The air was unnervingly cool and filled with the faint tang of antiseptic and recycled oxygen. Unlike the warships he commanded, the space lab wasn’t built for war. It was a labyrinth of labs and containment chambers, a place where science danced hand-in-hand with destruction.

The bulkheads were a polished silver alloy, their surface broken only by glowing blue indicators tracking the ship’s environmental status. Above, conduits snaked along the overhead, their pulse-like hum a reminder of the life-giving systems running through the ship’s veins.

Dr. Mella was waiting for him at the far end of the corridor, his thin frame nearly swallowed by the oversized white lab coat he wore. The man’s shoulders hunched slightly, his nervous energy radiating with every step as he hurried to greet Coleridge.

“General Landais,” Dr. Mella began, his voice brittle with anxiety. “Welcome aboard. We’ve made significant progress, though—though there have been some... complications.”

Coleridge’s eyes narrowed. “Complications?”

“Yes, well, the iROS is far more... temperamental than anticipated. It replicates quickly, yes, but it remains highly sensitive to heat during deployment. We’ve been forced to develop containment cylinders for proper release. The concept of integrating it directly into the ships has presented challenges?—”

Coleridge raised a hand, cutting him off. “Show me the containment units. I’m not interested in your excuses.”

Dr. Mella escorted Coleridge to the lift. They stepped in. Dr. Mella requested Level 18. Coleridge ignored the wheezing of Dr. Mella’s breaths. The Palterian species had six nasal passages down the center of their faces. Oxygen was filtered through thin membranes filled with mucus. The effect was that the Palterians always sounded like they had a bad cold.

Once the lift doors opened, Coleridge followed Mella down a series of narrow corridors until they reached a large, reinforced door. The doors slid open with a soft whoosh,revealing a cavernous laboratory bathed in an eerie blue light. The lab was divided into a long line of separate, smaller labs. There were five on each side. Coleridge took note of the number above the door to the first lab. Through the clear enclosure, he could see two scientists monitoring containment unit number ten.

He waved a hand to Dr. Mella to proceed him into the room. The scientists turned in unison. The protests on their lips fading when they saw who had entered. With jerky bows, they stepped to the side.

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