Page 62 of Sixth
Chapter 15
APEX STOODin the narrow corridor with his palm pressed to the bulkhead, feeling the hum of the new ship thrum through bone andskin.
The vibration sat lower than the one he had carried in his body for years, adifferent register that made the hull sound like a living thing trying out its voice. The air smelled clean and faintly ionized. Every so often the vents gave a soft hiss that came a breath late, like a lung learning to keep pace. The others said they hardly noticed. Apex noticed everything.
A ship told its stories in rhythm, in the way lights warmed and cooled, in the timing of doors, in the whisper of the recycler. This one had not learned themyet.
He told himself it was nothing. They had bought the craft fast, stripped from a decommissioned line and refit in the field. Avessel needed time to learn a crew and a crew needed time tolearn a vessel. He had taught warriors the same thing about each other. That wasall.
He moved down the corridor. The lights pulsed to a soft brightness ahead of his steps and dimmed behind. Voices drifted from the galley. Locus laughed under his breath at something Hannah said. Jo’Nay’s tone ran quiet and sure as he coaxed Winn through slow sips from a cup. Lume’s small chirrups braided through the clink of utensils and the soft thud of cabinet doors, and for a moment the sound of home replaced the sound ofwar.
He paused in the doorway to mark the faces that mattered. Hannah sat wrapped in a thermal blanket with a bruise fading along her cheek and one hand resting protectively over her stomach, the small unconscious motion that betrayed what only she and Locus knew—she carried new life. Locus crouched beside her, spoon in hand, scowling without heat every time she teased him about his hovering, his eyes softening when they dropped to the faint curve under herpalm.
Across from them, Jo’Nay adjusted the sling at Winn’s ribs and checked her pulse with the pads of his fingers. She mirrored Hannah’s gesture without thinking, fingers splaying briefly across the visible swell that marked the promise of another life saved from the laboratories of Keth-9. The size of his hand made the gesture look delicate and careful, like a giant cupping abird.
Winn met his gaze. Her lips shaped a single word, barely more than breath. Thanks. Jo’Nay didn’t smile often. The tight shift of his mouth looked like a fault line trying to soften.
Emmy stood by the ration heater with her hair pulled back in a rough knot and a smudge of grease on her wrist. When she sensed him in the doorway she lifted her head and foundhim. The small, tired curve of her smile struck him like light afterrain.
“Everything working?” she asked.
“For now.” He stepped inside. “The ventilation timing is off. It will stabilize.”
Lume hovered near the ceiling. Her fur had dimmed to a dusty pink and her wings beat in slow uneven pulses that brushed a breath of moving air over the table.
Apex tipped his head. “You do not like this ship, my friend?”
Lume chirped once, uncertain, and her eyes slid away. Her color shifted towardgray.
“She’ll adjust,” Emmy said. Her voice carried a confidence that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe it’s the recycled air. Or all the new tech Core had to integrate.”
At the mention of Core the ship’s AI shimmered across the galley console. The voice filled the room in a tone that never rose.“Systems nominal. Environmental levels within standard range. Power distribution stable.”
Apex nodded. “Good. Monitor and log variances. We will begin the debrief in one cycle.”
“Acknowledged.”The light folded itself back into the panel and the console returned to a simple statusgrid.
They all ate together. Quiet sat with them like a person who had earned a seat. After weeks of captivity and battle, silence became a mercy. Hannah leaned into Locus’s shoulder and told him to stop scowling or his face would stick thatway.
Winn’s voice came thin but present as she tried to joke that the food was better than anything on Keth-9, and the sound pulled every head toward her. Her throat still caught on words,the damage not yet healed, but the effort showed energy instead of fragility.
Jo’Nay’s answer was quiet pride, one hand resting at her back as she leaned into him, exhausted but talking again. She managed a few more sentences before her eyes drooped and drifted closed against Jo’Nay’s side, and he adjusted his stance to carry her weight without wakingher.
Emmy stretched her legs until her knee brushed Apex’s. He didn’t move away. He let his hand fall under the table and found her fingers, tracing the lines of her palm where the faint shimmer of her Valenmark glowed under skin. The contact steadied him in ways command neverhad.
For a few heartbeats there was nothing else. Breath, warmth, food. The sound of life returning.
Later they gathered in the command room. Aholomap floated above the table in pale layers of light. Core projected the positions of Intergalactic Warriors whose signals still pinged the registry. The map looked like a night sky turned inside out and filled with spearpoints. So many fractured lights. So many that refused to goout now that they had the choice between Final Flight and apples.
Locus leaned forward with his forearms braced on his thighs. “We bring them home. Every last Intergalactic Warrior.”
Jo’Nay traced a line through a cluster where three signals lay close. “These three traveled together once. If we reach the first, the others follow.”
“If the Council learns what we did on Keth-9 they will brand us traitors,” Jo’Nay said. He didn’t make it sound like fear. He made it sound like weather.
“They already did,” Apex replied. He kept his voice level. He didn’t need to raise it to be heard. He glanced at Emmy. “But they will not dictate the story.”
“They’ll try,” Emmy argued, and the shadow that crossed her face burned off as she set her hand to the control ring. “Play the vid, Core.”
