Page 33 of Koha'vek
I glanced toward the trees, then back to them. “The Federation isn’t ready to make a formal declaration.”
Ava’s brows drew together. “Meaning?”
I gave a small smile. Not the kind that reached my eyes.
“Meaning you won’t be receiving a welcome ceremony anytime soon. No registry. No Federation ID chip.”
Koha’vek tilted his head. “But?”
“But you’re not going to be disturbed,” I said evenly. “You’re not on any watchlists. Your location isn’t being shared. You’ll be left alone.”
I held Koha’vek’s gaze. “As long as you remain peaceful. And quiet. That’s important.”
Ava stepped forward. “So… they’re pretending we don’t exist.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
Koha’vek’s throat worked. “And if someone comes asking questions?”
“Then they won’t be coming from the Council. That much I can promise you.”
He gave a short nod. “Understood.”
I pulled a small packet from my vest and handed it to him—encrypted supplies access, satellite sync maps, and a code chip for the com link to contact me directly.
“No one’s going to say it out loud,” I said. “But as long as I’m stationed in this sector, you’ll have eyes watching your back.”
Ava blinked rapidly. “You’re taking a risk, aren’t you?”
“Not yet,” I said. “But the day might come when I do. If that happens, just remember this conversation.”
Koha’vek extended his hand—not the war-grip of the Mesaarkans, but open-palmed, the way humans do when we’re being honest. I took it.
“Thank you,” he said. “For seeing more than scales.”
I nodded. “You and I both know monsters come in many skins.”
As I turned to go, Ava’s voice stopped me. “Raven—if things change… if they ever decide we’re not worth the silence—will you warn us?”
I looked over my shoulder, met her eyes, and gave her the only promise I could.
“Before the wind even shifts.”
Then I mounted up and rode out, the trees swallowing the pathbehind me, and the silence holding far more meaning than anything the Council ever said out loud.
Epilogue
Ava
We watched Raven disappear into the trees until the sound of his hovercycle faded into the hush of wind and birdsong.
Then it was quiet again. Just the two of us, standing on the edge of something that didn’t have a name.
I didn’t move right away. Neither did Koha’vek.
The sun remained warm, the sky stayed blue, but the world below felt different now, less like hiding, more like holding our breath.
“They’re not going to protect us,” I said quietly.
