CHAPTER 07
2132 Words
Leo sat in the Sable Wind’s jump seat, his cracked rib a dull throb beneath his flight suit. Port Aethon’s Ring swelled in the canopy ahead—a broken jaw of rock and metal, bristling with docking ports and swarming with ships. He was about to set foot on a station where he didn’t speak the language, didn’t know the customs, and looked like no species anyone had ever seen.
ECHO observed.
“"I'm about to walk into a station filled with species I can't talk to," Leo muttered. “I think I’m allowed.”
“Like you did with Vexari?”
Kaelen’s hands moved across the controls. She hadn’t spoken much since they’d left Kethis. Fatigue shadowed her eyes.
“Docking in two minutes,” she said. “The station runs on Dominion Standard. You won’t understand anyone. Keep your mouth shut and let me talk.”
“What about you? You speak it?”
“Everyone on the fringe speaks it enough to trade. My ship’s translator handles the rest. You’re the anomaly.”
“I wasn’t going to argue.”
---
The docking tube connected with a hiss.
The air hit Leo first—recycled, filtered, laced with lubricant and something organic. The gravity was lighter than Earth’s. His steps felt buoyant.
The main concourse was a cavern carved from asteroid rock, its ceiling lost in shadow. Stalls spilled light in every color. Creatures moved in a chaotic current—tall, short, too many limbs, too few. A Luminari glided past, opalescent skin shimmering pale silver.
And the sound—a wash of voices, announcements, vendor calls—all in a language that was just noise. Sharp consonants, rolling vowels, rhythmic bursts that meant nothing.
Leo’s head filled with a sudden pressure, like a hand pressing against the inside of his skull. Phonetics crackled. Syntax unspooled behind his eyes. The flood was faster than before, rougher—grammar rules slamming into place without permission. His vision blurred. He stumbled.
Kaelen caught his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s—learning the language. It’s—fast.”
The pressure built. The station around him sharpened. Fragments of words began to resolve—berth, docking, clearance, trade—like a radio tuning in.
“I can’t reduce my senses, ECHO. I’m in a market.”
The final download hit like a wave. Leo’s knees buckled. Kaelen’s grip tightened.
The noise resolved into words. The vendor calls became language. “—fresh from the outer belts, genuine Tivari silk, half a shard the meter—” “—repairs, repairs, we fix all drives except Dominion military, no questions—” “—attention, docking ring seven will close for maintenance in two hours—”
Leo straightened. The world had shifted from meaningless sound to overwhelming meaning.
“I can understand them.”
“Good.” Kaelen released his arm. “Now keep up.”
A sign hung above a nearby stall, its jagged Dominion script still unreadable.
“I wasn’t going to.”
His stomach had indeed growled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. The kav on the ship was a distant memory.
“Later,” Kaelen said, reading his expression. “Business first.”
She moved toward a repair dock wedged between a fuel depot and a bar. A sign read CHANDLER’S KNOT in blocky Dominion script.
---
Orin Voss stood behind a counter cluttered with parts. His four arms worked independently—polishing a coupling, sorting bolts. His pebbled grey skin gleamed under the work lights. When he spoke, Leo now understood him perfectly, though the words carried a deep, resonant undertone—Vossk Harmonic Rumble.
“Kaelen. Alive.”
“Orin.” Kaelen set a case on the counter. Three Flawless Flux Shards glowed blue. “Hull patches. Intake cleaning. Berth for twelve hours.”
Orin studied the shards, then Kaelen, then Leo.
“New crew,” Orin rumbled. Not a question.
“Engineer.”
Orin’s gaze traveled over Leo’s flight suit, his bandaged temple, the way he favored his left side. “Broken rib.”
“Cracked,” Leo said. “Seventh thoracic.”
The Vossk reached under the counter and produced a pressure brace. He set it beside the shards. “No charge.”
Leo blinked. “Thank you.”
Orin didn’t acknowledge it. Behind him, a wall-mounted translator unit cycled glyphs—a high-end model, but idle now. He didn’t need it for Dominion Standard.
“Zephyr’s asking. Seren’s asking. Too many questions. Watch your back.”
“I always do.”
“No. You don’t.” Orin scooped up the shards. “Twelve hours. Then I’m sealing your berth.”
---
Kell’s Nook was wedged between a water recycler and a dubious leather stall.
Zephyr Kell unfolded from behind the counter—tall, opalescent, silver rings on every finger. Their skin was pale silver, but when their gaze reached Leo, it rippled faint blue. A low, musical hum accompanied the shift—Luminari light-language.
“Kaelen, darling. You look like you’ve been wrestling Scourgebirds.”
“I have,” Kaelen said. “I need information.”
“Information first. Business second.” Zephyr’s dark eyes fixed on Leo, their skin pulsing green. A sleek implant glinted at their temple—a top-tier personal translator. “And this is new. What’s your name, outworlder?”
“Leo.”
“Just Leo? No family designation? No clan tag?” The green brightened. “You’re either very mysterious or very lost.”
“Both,” Leo said. “Test pilots usually are.”
The implant would be searching for a match and finding nothing. Zephyr’s skin flared a startled orange before settling back.
“Charming. Kaelen, where did you find this one?”
“Salvage.” Kaelen’s voice was flat. “The information, Zephyr. My parents. The research file.”
Zephyr’s colors dimmed, amber flickering with nerves. “I pulled the file, darling. And something woke up. A trace program—Dominion Intelligence, very old. It pinged back. They know someone’s looking.”
Kaelen’s fingers tightened.
“That’s not all. A separate alert. A drive signature from a ship that shouldn’t exist. Dominion R&D is screaming—they’ve tied it to your docking vector at Kor-Vesh.”
Leo’s stomach dropped. The Event Horizon-2. The impossible jump. They were hunting his drive.
“How long?” Kaelen asked.
“Hours, if you’re lucky. Thane’s Krix are already sweeping. Your ship is the only one with an unregistered jump signature.” Zephyr’s skin was fully amber now. “I’d leave soon, darling. This station doesn’t protect its own.”
---
Seren Dhale found them in the market.
She strolled, long tail swaying, silver markings catching the light. A delicate band circled her throat—a personal translator worn like jewelry. Her charcoal fur gleamed, and her amber eyes locked onto Kaelen with a predator’s patience.
“Still flying that antique, Kaelen?”
Kaelen turned. Tension coiled through her shoulders. “Seren.”
“I heard you were on the Ring.” Seren’s gaze slid to Leo, and her tail twitched. “And you brought a friend. How unlike you.”
“Engineer.”
“Is that what they’re calling it now?” Seren’s voice was a low purr. “I’m not here to fight. I have a deal. The dead world—the one your parents were researching—I have the coordinates. You have the encrypted core. Together, we get inside.”
“Fifty-fifty.”
“Professional courtesy.”
“You tried to sell me to a Dominion patrol six cycles ago.”
Seren’s ears flicked. “A misunderstanding.”
“You locked me in an airlock.”
“Also a misunderstanding.” Her tail flicked again—sharp. “The orbit is decaying. I’d rather split the find than lose it entirely.”
Kaelen’s eyes drifted briefly to the tail. “No.”
Seren’s tail froze. “No?”
“I don’t trust you.”
The Sythrian’s ears flattened, then recovered. “Pity.” She turned, and Leo saw her raise a comm unit to her lips.
“She’s calling someone.”
“I know.”
“Is she—”
“Maybe.” Kaelen was already moving. “We’re leaving. Now.”
---
They didn’t make it to the docking ring.
A small shape detached from the shadows near a coolant vent—barely a meter tall, dust-colored fur shifting, large dark eyes fixed on Leo. The Tivari child’s ears were pinned flat.
“You’re the ones who talk to Zephyr,” she said, words tumbling rapid-fire in the Dominion Standard Leo had just learned to understand. “And the one with the rival. I heard everything.”
Leo stopped. “Who are you?”
“Miri. I work the docks. Station security just locked down the docking ring. Krix are sweeping. They’re looking for an outworlder with no Flux signature. That’s you.” Her ears swiveled. “You don’t smell like any species I’ve met. You smell like a planet. A real one. I’ve never smelled a planet before.”
“How do you know about the sweep?”
“I listen. I’m small.” Her fur rippled darker. “Dominion Intelligence flagged you. Administrator Thane ordered a full lockdown. If you don’t leave now, you’re not leaving at all.”
A station-wide announcement echoed in the language Leo now understood: “Attention. By order of Administrator Thane, docking ring seven is sealed. All outbound traffic suspended. Security is searching for fugitives wanted by Dominion Intelligence. Cooperation is mandatory.”
Leo’s heart hammered. “How do we get to our ship?”
Miri’s ears perked. “You’re leaving? Take me with you.”
“What?”
“I’ve never seen a planet. I’ve never breathed real air. My family’s dead. If you take me, I can get you to your ship. I know the tunnels. The Krix don’t patrol them—too small for their armor.”
Kaelen stared down at her. “You’re asking to become a fugitive.”
“I’m already an orphan. Fugitive’s not much worse.” Her eyes were huge. “Please. I can help.”
Distant footsteps—Krix, silent, hulking.
“Fine,” Kaelen said. “Move.”
---
Miri led them through the station’s underbelly—cramped tunnels, dripping pipes, rust and ozone. She slipped through gaps Leo had to squeeze through, ears swiveling constantly.
“Left. The Krix are two levels up.”
“How do you know?”
“I memorized the patrol routes. Administrator Thane doesn’t like improvisation.” She ducked under a pipe. “Your ship is a Sable Wind class. Berth forty-two. I can override the docking clamp.”
“You can override a docking clamp?”
“It’s a small station. You learn.”
They emerged onto the docking ring. The Sable Wind sat fifty meters away, hull scarred but intact. No Krix in sight.
A warning glyph blinked on a wall panel. ECHO supplied.
“Go.”
Miri scrambled up the ramp. Leo followed, rib screaming. Kaelen brought up the rear just as Krix rounded the corner—silent, compound eyes fixed on them.
The hatch sealed.
“Detach!” Kaelen was in the cockpit. “Miri, override!”
“Already doing it!” The clamp disengaged with a clunk.
The Sable Wind tore free just as a Dominion corvette dropped from jump at the debris ring’s edge.
“They’re hailing. Demanding surrender.”
“Can we jump?”
“Not in the debris field. Need clear space.”
Weapons powered up. Leo strapped in. Miri’s fur went pale.
Kaelen spun hard into the debris ring. Metal and rock screamed past. The corvette followed, slower—the debris forced it to break off.
“Clear space in thirty seconds.”
“It’ll hold,” Leo said.
Kaelen glanced at him—just for a moment—and slammed the drive.
The universe folded.
---
When it unfolded, the station was gone. The debris field was gone. They drifted in silence.
Miri crept into the cockpit, fur slowly greying. “Did we make it?”
Leo opened his mouth. The words—Dominion Standard—caught in his throat. A warm trickle slid from his nose. He touched it; his fingers came away red.
“Leo?” Miri’s ears flattened. “Why are you bleeding?”
Kaelen turned. She looked at the blood, at his dazed expression, and pressed a cloth into his hand.
“He pushed too hard,” she said. “Quiet now. We made it. That’s enough.”
Leo nodded, the cloth pressed to his nose, the stars swimming through exhaustion. Somewhere in the galley, ration blocks waited. Water. Silence.
For now, that was everything.
- Writer
