Page 34 of Signed, Sealed, Seduced
Confessions
Henrok
Theoperationconcludeswiththe precision expected of Zaterran warriors. The beacon’s modified transmission broadcasts false defensive specifications to a cloaked Corsairian vessel lurking at the edge of the asteroid belt. Within moments, our strike team intercepts their ship, taking three operatives alive.
Justice, swift and decisive. Yet I find my satisfaction muted by other considerations.
Throughout the operation, I remained acutely aware of Suki’s presence in the command center. She stood beside me as we monitored the beacon’s activation, her technical expertise proving invaluable in fine-tuning the false transmission. More than once, our shoulders brushed as we leaned over the same console, and each contact sent awareness through me that had nothing to do with tactical considerations.
When the trap was sprung and our enemies captured, she had smiled—not the sharp, defensive expression I had grown accustomed to, but something genuine and warm. The sight of it affected me more than the successful completion of a military operation should.
“First Blade,” Krev’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “The Corsairian vessel has been secured. Three operatives taken alive. They claim diplomatic immunity.”
I force my attention back to the matter at hand, though part of my awareness remains fixed on the small blinking light that represents Suki’s tracking bracelet. She has left the command center, her location now showing the launch bay where her ship awaits.
“Hold them in the secure detention area,” I command. “Inform the Corsairian ambassador that evidence of espionage nullifies diplomatic protections. We will question them thoroughly.”
“And the beacon?” Krev asks.
“Deactivate it. Place it in secure storage for further analysis.” I pause, a decision crystallizing. “I will handle that personally.”
Krev inclines his head, accepting the order without question, though his eyes hold a knowledge I find increasingly difficult to ignore. He has served at my side for too long not to recognize when my focus is divided.
“The operation is concluded, First Blade,” he says, his tone carefully neutral. “The threat is contained. Perhaps there are other matters requiring your attention?”
He does not specify what “other matters” he means. He does not need to.
“Indeed,” I acknowledge, grateful for his discretion. “You have command until further notice. Complete the interrogation preparations.”
I retrieve the beacon myself, its weight insignificant in my hand yet heavy with all it represents—betrayal, vulnerability, unexpected revelation. And, perhaps most significantly, the catalyst that brought Suki into my life and forced me to confront what she has become to me.
The corridors of the fortress seem longer than usual as I make my way toward the launch bay. Warriors salute as I pass, their expressions betraying nothing of the curiosity they must feel at seeing their First Blade personally carrying a secured artifact toward the departure area.
Let them wonder. I myself am not entirely certain of my purpose, only that I cannot allow her to leave without... something. Some acknowledgment of what has passed between us, some understanding of what she has become.
The launch bay doors slide open to reveal a cavernous space, mostly empty now that the emergency evacuations have been completed. Suki’s ship sits on the central platform, its repairs evident in the new paneling and upgraded systems that myengineers insisted on installing. The Rust Bucket, as she calls it, no longer appears quite so rusty.
And there, standing at the base of the boarding ramp, is Suki herself.
She has changed from the modified Zaterran attire back into her courier uniform, the faded OOPS insignia visible on the sleeve. Her hair is loose now, those auburn curls framing her face in a way that catches the light from the bay’s illumination systems. She is small against the backdrop of the massive space, yet somehow she dominates the area through sheer force of presence.
The sight of her in departure attire sends an unexpected pang through my chest—loss, anticipation, and something deeper that I’m not yet ready to name.
She does not appear surprised to see me. Perhaps she has been expecting this confrontation since she left the command center.
“You’re late to the party,” she calls as I approach, her tone deliberately casual. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show up for the big goodbye.”
I stop a respectful distance away, aware of how my size can be intimidating to humans even when I do not intend it to be. Yet I find myself wanting to move closer, to bridge the gap between us in ways that have nothing to do with physical proximity.
“The operation is complete,” I tell her. “The Corsairians have been exposed and captured.”
“Good.” She nods, genuine satisfaction in her expression. “Serves them right for trying to use me as their delivery girl.”
“Indeed.” I hesitate, unaccustomed to uncertainty. “Your ship is fully repaired. Enhanced, in fact. My engineers took certain... liberties with the modifications.”
She glances back at the vessel, a flicker of emotion crossing her face too quickly to identify. “Yeah, I noticed. Upgraded navsystem, reinforced hull plating, new stealth capabilities. Way beyond what I asked for.”
“Consider it compensation,” I say, though the words feel inadequate. “For the inconvenience you experienced.”
