The hangar of the Resolute was quieter during warp. Fewer hands moving. Fewer tools screaming. Still a sauna to accommodate the cold-blooded dragonkin workers.
Crates of stripped interceptor parts from the Black Station were stacked around Heathen like offerings to a malefic god.
Thrynn had her life-support module cracked open, arms buried deep as he swapped valves and hoses. He pulled the scrubber unit free and popped the filter housing.
It disintegrated in his hands.
What should have been a dense, sponge-like filter collapsed into fine grey dust. The seals around it were gone entirely.
Thrynn rolled the dust between his claws.
"Look."
Elias slid out from beneath the mounted railgun assembly, his hands blackened with carbon scoring.
The dust fell over him like ash.
"What's that?"
Thrynn grinned. "Your life-support filters."
Elias was silent for a moment.
Too tight.
Too cold.
Breaths that drew thin.
He blinked it away.
"Nice."
He held up a warped, blackened chunk of metal.
"You know what this is?"
Thrynn squinted. "Burnt-out wiring harness. Mk.V railgun." A pause. Then a low chuckle. "You cheated death twice in this frame."
Elias rolled back under the gun mount.
"It's been more than that."
Thrynn snorted. "Try maintenance for a change."
"I just salvaged this frame."
"That was unwise."
"I realize that—"
Elias went still.
"…Nobody's worked on the railgun housing during repairs, right?"
Thrynn thought for a moment. "Just you."
"Anyone near Heathen while I was in the infirmary?"
"Just me. Other techs were on booster repairs. Why?"
"Drop what you're doing. Tell the captain to cut warp."
"What?"
"Now, Thrynn."
Elias slid out from under the frame, moving slower now. Drawers snapped open. Wire cutters. Testers. Tools.
Thrynn didn't argue. He keyed the channel.
The hangar shuddered as warp disengaged.
Elias rolled back under the interceptor.
"Talk to me, Journeyman," Thrynn said, voice edged now.
Elias didn't answer immediately.
"…There's something attached to the frame. Internal structure matches a warhead."
"Dassk…" Thrynn swore.
"You should evacuate the hangar."
"And why are you saying that?"
Fay's voice cut in as she approached.
"Possible bomb."
Fay froze for half a second. "Are you sure?"
"No. That's why you should leave." Elias didn't look up. "How blast-proof is this hangar?"
"It's taken direct hits and held."
"Good enough. Thrynn, if you're staying, get eyes on this."
Thrynn grabbed a roller and slid in beside him.
"That's a long-range guidance module," Thrynn said, pointing. "Spliced into a transmitter."
"It's tied into the railgun power feed," Elias added.
"I don't see a warhead."
"Neither do I."
Thrynn pointed. "What's that cylinder?"
Elias looked at it a moment. "Fay, pass the tester."
"…Which one?"
"Two prongs. Small display."
She handed it down.
"You know what you're doing?" she asked.
"I'm familiar."
Elias probed the wiring. Careful. Precise.
"…Supercapacitor."
"The guidance is insulated," Thrynn said. "Tracking system."
Elias nodded. "Railgun fires, capacitor dumps. Fries the onboard computer."
"Is there a bomb on my ship or not?" Fay demanded.
"No. Tracker and malware."
Thrynn grimaced. "Someone really wants you dead."
"And they want to do it themselves." Elias added as he rolled out and stood.
Fay was still there.
"You can resume warp," he said, reaching for insulated gloves beside her.
Only then did she notice.
No shirt.
A black, swollen bruise stretched across his abdomen.
"Are you alright?" She gestured to the wound.
"I've had worse."
He turned back to Heathen.
The movement exposed his back.
A burn scar. Wide. Old. Layered with others that didn't belong on one man.
Fay stilled.
Even her father hadn't carried that many.
How is he walking?
She forced the thought down.
"I need to speak with you when you're finished."
"Understood," Elias said, already rolling under the frame.
Fay gave the order. Warp resumed.
—
The device came free easier than expected once the adhesive was dissolved. A few careful cuts. A few pries.
It clanked against the workbench.
"Done."
"That does look like a bomb." Fay commented.
"Everything does when it's wired like that."
"Any idea why someone would do this?"
"I've made enemies in low places."
"How?"
"It happens." Elias grabbed a rag, wiping sweat from his brow and carbon from his hands. "Destroy a fleet, a few get away."
He reached for a dented metal canteen and took a long, measured pull of water.
"They tell their friends."
The canteen clicked back onto the table.
"Information is ammunition."
"How many of them have you killed?" The commander in her surfaced.
"Is this what you wanted to talk about?" Elias met her eyes.
"…No." Fay exhaled. "It's about the operation. First—thank you. You held up your end. You'll be paid in full. Eighty-five million."
"You're welcome." Elias said it plainly. No weight behind it. No pride.
"—But," she continued, "I heard you took command of my team."
Elias thought back. "I gave strong suggestions. They followed."
"You still acted independently."
"You got your informant."
"I'm talking about the hostage situation."
"Were there casualties?"
"…No."
Fay searched for something to push back with. Found nothing.
Elias didn't press it.
"Captain Bladefield," Elias squared slightly, "I formally apologize for the risk to civilians and any trauma caused. I acted on what I judged best in the moment."
A pause.
"I forgive you," Fay said. "Next time, I'll go with you."
"Next time?"
"If you're willing. And if the price is right."
"I'll think about it, Bladefield."
"Fay." Her voice softened, just slightly. "You may call me Fay, Mr. Journeyman."
"Understood, Fay. Call me Elias."
He offered his hand.
She took it without hesitation.
Rough. Callused. Not the hands of a noble.
"But journeymen is better than hired dog."
"Elias will do." Fay smiled.
Elias returned it. Brief. Real. Gone.
"So you can smile."
"This rust bucket isn't going to fix itself."
He turned back to Heathen, already reaching for the new wiring harness.
A rough laugh echoed from somewhere behind the interceptor.
Fay let out a quiet breath and stepped away.
"Right."