[= Secure Access Granted... =]

  [= Location Data Initialized =]

  **Terran Republic Command Center, Valeria Zhukov’s Quarters**

  Orbiting Bastion Arx Solis, Denebris Sector

  **Standard Galactic Date**: 2739, Cycle 07

  **Local Time**: 19:00 TR Standard

  [= Restricted Zone: Level Omega =]

  Valeria “The Blade” Zhukov sat alone in her quarters, the glow of the holoscreen casting pale light across her already pale features. Beneath the silence was a slow, rhythmic pulse from the ship’s grav-core, similar to a heartbeat embedded in the walls. She wore her full uniform: midnight black, trimmed in silver, tailored to perfection. Pinned to her collar was the insignia of a Fleet Captain: an obsidian triangle split by three silver bars, each marking a campaign completed under fire.

  Her platinum braid was drawn tight behind her head, not a strand out of place. Her eyes didn’t blink. Cold and unreadable, they stayed locked on the screen

  A soft chime.

  New file received.

  She tapped the prompt.

  The image sharpened, some grainy surveillance footage, stamped and logged from a remote, unaligned sector.

  Valeria’s brow twitched. She tapped the file, bringing it to life across her holoscreen.

  A junior officer’s voice filtered in from the secondary console’s audio feed, reading from the surveillance log that played on another nearby screen.

  “Surveillance Log. Subject: Agent Valor. Timestamp: Cycle 2739, Local Time 18:12,” the officer read, his voice cautious. “Footage recorded from Kelthar-3, at the central operations structure. Republic Forward Command Facility Spirepoint Echo. Monitoring protocols triggered while tracking inbound operatives. Subject ‘Valor’ flagged as high alert. Personnel unaware of breach. Security lead requested immediate escalation.”

  Valeria leaned closer, her hand hovered over the pause command, but she didn’t press it.

  The man in the footage crossed the lobby of The Spire, calmly. He wore modified Specter gear. Burn scars marred the his face. The identifiers were masked. The audio was scrambled. He looked almost unrecognizable with the fresh burns across his face, but that spirit, that defiance, remained. He was a man who would always defy her.

  Her breath caught. She knew that stride. She’d watched him pace cold metal decks at night when he couldn’t sleep.

  It was him.

  Timus Lucian Aurelius Corvus.

  Her former lover. Her traitor. Her unfinished business.

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  The footage skipped. Glitched. The frame stuttered like it had been forced to look away.

  A shadow whirled around his hand. He gestured at a guard, the air seeming to ripple and warp as if affected by a lens. The video glitched again and when it cleared the guard’s gaze went blank and the guard stepped aside like a puppet on frayed strings while Corvus walked past without any more resistance.

  Her voice cut the silence. “Pause ze footage.”

  The holoscreen froze mid-frame. A voice came through her console speaker, clipped and uneasy.

  “Fleet Captain… should we alert High Command? This… this looks like a psionic event. According to old protocol, that would qualify as—”

  “Silence,” Valeria didn’t let him finish. Her eyes narrowed on the screen.

  An Eidolon.

  She had suspected for years. Even when they were together, that something about him wasn’t normal. Her uncle Varro had never spoken of it directly, but he’d always encouraged their closeness. Too deliberately. As if trying to keep Corvus tethered to someone loyal.

  There had been signs. Glitches in reality. Moments where he just knew things no one could’ve told him. Coincidences that felt more like control. Whispers followed him, rumors, dismissed by most as just stories. Psionics were relics of war and madness, filed under myth and classified into silence.

  But seeing it, on record? That was different.

  Valeria considered reporting it. Submitting the footage to the chain of command. Letting the Republic's war machine decide what to do with him.

  The thought died before it could form.

  No.

  This was between them.

  Not the Senate. Not the Navy. Not some wrinkled officer with a title and no spine.

  She wouldn’t let Corvus slip out of her orbit again.

  The officer’s voice crackled again through the secondary audio feed. “Fleet Captain, do I have authorization to escalate this to Central Command?”

  Valeria’s eyes narrowed. “Nyet.”

  A pause. Just long enough to feel like a challenge.

  Her voice was colder the second time. “Who else has seen this?”

  “No one,” he said quickly. “Just me. I was monitoring diplomatic arrivals, watching as those alien envoys from Korridex, the Oris Union, Xyreilian Concrod, Rezars, even a ship from the Exodum. But none were as strange as when this guy came in alone. No escort, no clearance. I thought maybe it was a misflag... until I saw the way he moved. Then the guard. It looked like some kind of neural override. Like... like psionics, ma’am.”

  Valeria said nothing at first. Her eyes remained fixed on the screen, on the frozen image of Corvus mid-step, the moment just before everything shifted.

  Then she spoke, flat and final.

  “Erase it. You vill not mention zis again.”

  The officer hesitated. “Erase it, ma’am? But—”

  “Do not make me repeat myself, Lieutenant,” she snapped, voice sharp as a blade. “I vill not ask again.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He stammered as he began the deletion sequence. “It is finished,” he sighed, daring not to meet her eyes, then closed the feed. The screen blinked, the image of Corvus dissolving into blue static.

  When the monitor dimmed and the connection cut, Valeria was alone again.

  She didn’t move at first. Just stared at the empty screen.

  She could still see him. Moving through the Spire. Living life as he always had without an attempt to contact her once. As if the years meant nothing. As if she had never bled for him, never burned for him, never whispered his name through gritted teeth when the silence became unbearable.

  Her fingers curled tight around the chair’s armrest, nails pressing into the metal until it groaned under her grip.

  He thought he could vanish.

  Change his name.

  Bury his past under false flags and the company of criminals.

  Thought he could forget who made him.

  Who carved the blade that cut through the galaxy with a smile.

  He thought he could slip through her grasp. Hide behind masks, burn his name, vanish into a ship full of misfits and thieves. But he’d forgotten who trained him. Who taught him to lie, to lead, to kill. Who shaped him into something useful.

  She had loved him once.

  Maybe she still did.

  And then the next file loaded. Four names. Red-tagged. KIA. Confirmed.

  His old crew.

  Valeria didn’t blink. She didn’t need proof.

  He was in danger on Kelthar-3.

  She would find him there.

  Not the Republic. Not her uncle. Not even death would take him before she had her turn.

  She stood slowly, smoothing the creases from her uniform like she was preparing for war. The screen’s cold glow reflected off her icy eyes.

  “Soon, Timus,” she whispered.

  The words barely passed her lips.

  “Very soon… you vill be mine again.”