Akiko lay on the narrow bunk, her head in her hands as the Driftknight's hum pressed through the walls. Her tail flicked restlessly beside her, fur tangled from hours of uneasy shifting. A dull throb pulsed behind her eyes, steady, resistant to rest.

Stop thinking so loud, she muttered inwardly, though the thought didn't feel entirely hers.

"I'm functioning at reduced capacity to minimize strain," her AI offered, voice faint and clipped, nothing like the fluid tones she'd grown used to aboard the Sovereign. "However, this limitation significantly impacts my operational efficiency."

"I noticed," Akiko muttered. Even her own voice grated. The migraine made every vibration feel sharper, like the ship itself was burrowing into her skull.

Her breathing slowed. Memory rose, unbidden.

The airlock hissed open.

Kara Ellan stood in the entryway, backlit by the dim overheads. She had the kind of posture Akiko recognized on instinct. Measured, watchful, dangerous in a way that didn't need to posture.

"Welcome aboard," Kara said. Her tone was flat but firm. She extended a hand, and Akiko took it, finding a grip that was calloused and precise. "I trust you'll pull your weight around here."

Akiko opened her mouth to answer.

The spike hit her mid-sentence. Pain surged, sudden and sharp. Her knees wobbled. She caught herself against the airlock's frame, knuckles white on the metal.

"Hey—" Kara's voice sharpened. She stepped closer, a hand hovering near Akiko's shoulder. "What's going on with you?"

Akiko couldn't answer. Her jaw locked tight, breath shuddering through her teeth. She could feel it. Her AI clawing at bandwidth it no longer had access to.

"Host vessel disconnected," it rasped. "No auxiliary systems detected. Redirecting computational load to primary host."

Her grip tightened. Pressure bloomed behind her eyes, hot and jagged.

Kara's tone shifted. "I didn't sign up for someone who can't stay on her feet."

Akiko forced herself upright. One breath, then another. "I... need processing power," she managed, pressing a palm to her head. "My AI, it used to run through the Sovereign. Without that link, it's rerouting everything through me."

Kara's eyes narrowed. "AI?" she repeated. "What kind of system needs a person to act as a server?"

"It's complicated." Akiko's voice came sharper than she meant. "But if I don't offload soon, it's going to get worse."

For a moment, Kara just watched her. Then her stance shifted. Subtle, but there.

"Processing power," she echoed. Her expression didn't soften, but it changed. Less suspicion, more calculation. "We've got systems. You can use them."

Then a pause.

"But nothing comes free."

Akiko frowned. Her ears drew back, slight but visible. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Kara said, voice calm again, "that if you want a place on this ship, you earn it. Expertise like yours?" Her tone didn't rise, but something sharpened beneath it. "It's valuable. And around here, valuable doesn't stay idle."

The ache in Akiko's skull hadn't eased, but her jaw tightened against it all the same.

Akiko exhaled, fingers resting lightly against her temples. The migraine had dulled since she stepped aboard the Driftknight, but it still throbbed beneath the surface.

Kara had given her access to the ship's systems, just enough to take the edge off. Not enough to lift the weight entirely.

"Progress," she muttered, staring at the gray ceiling.

"Your current state is stable," her AI replied gently. "Though far from optimal."

Akiko snorted. "Thanks for the update. Let me know when I'm back to full strength."

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"You know as well as I do, this vessel lacks sufficient systems for peak performance."

She didn't need the reminder. The Driftknight was no Sovereign. That much was obvious. A faint smirk tugged at her lips.

Not like she missed that place. But the thought was hollow.

The Sovereign had been clean. Efficient. Predictable.

Her AI had moved through its systems like a conductor with a perfect orchestra, every pulse of data seamless.

And the people, Anna's chatter, Ethan's lopsided grin, even Cassandra's pointed remarks, had brought a strange kind of order. Not home, exactly. But something close.

Until it wasn't. Until the walls started to feel like a cage. Until Haven Command looked ready to strip her down and catalog her parts.

"Would've been comfortable, though," she murmured. Her tail flicked against the edge of the bunk. "Three meals a day. Full processing access. A cage with cushions."

That wasn't her. It never had been.

She'd left that predictability behind, traded it for the Driftknight's rattling corridors and Kara's sharp-edged pragmatism. Out here, no one could shove her in a lab.

And yet...

Her hand drifted to her tail, fingers running slowly through the fur.

What had she really gained? Freedom? Sure. But freedom to do what, work herself raw for a crew that barely trusted her? Trade one kind of usefulness for another?

The shackles here were just a little looser.

"You seem unsettled," her AI offered. "Shall I assist with cognitive clarity?"

"No," Akiko said softly. "I'll figure it out."

Silence answered. Outside of the cabin, she caught the low murmur of voices and the soft clatter of tools from engineering.

The Driftknight lived differently than the Sovereign. Louder, messier. Full of people who didn't have the luxury of clean answers.

Her fingers curled around the bunk's edge. Whatever this life was, it was hers.

For now, that would have to be enough.

A faint tap sounded on the bunk frame.

Akiko blinked, ears flicking as she turned. Raya floated beside her, crouched in the microgravity. Her bright eyes and gentle smile stood in soft contrast to the dim, utilitarian cabin.

"Figured you might still be feeling it," Raya said, offering her a small pair of pills in one hand and a sealed container of water in the other. "For the headache. Should help."

Akiko pushed herself upright, motion fluid in the weightless air. She took the pills and water with a brief flick of her tail, her closest approximation of gratitude in the moment.

"Thanks," she murmured, swallowing the pills. The water was cool against her throat, cutting through the lingering heat of the migraine.

Raya anchored herself nearby with one hand on a rail, legs folding beneath her. "No need to thank me," she said with a shrug. "We look after each other around here."

Akiko gave a faint smile.

"Looking after" was one way to put it. Raya had been quietly present since the station. Unshaken. She hadn't looked at Akiko like a threat. Not even once.

"You're too kind," Akiko said, light but honest. "Makes me wonder what you're doing on a ship like this."

Raya laughed softly. "Guess I don't fit the stereotype, huh? But kindness doesn't matter unless you use it where it counts. And out here? People need it."

Akiko studied her. There was something behind Raya's warmth. Not a lie, but a shadow. She'd lost someone on the station. A friend pulled under by the entity.

The way she carried herself reminded Akiko of Anna. Bright, stubborn, unyielding. But where Anna burned like a wildfire, Raya felt more like a candle. Steady. Intentional.

"You recovering?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.

Raya's smile faltered for just a moment.

"Getting there," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Some days are easier than others. But helping people helps me, too. Guess that's why I keep showing up. Even when no one asks." Her gaze flicked to Akiko, knowing.

Akiko let out a quiet chuckle, half surprise, half appreciation. "Well, I'm not complaining. You're good at it." She leaned back against the wall, tail curling around her legs. "That why you're here now?"

"Partly." Raya's expression softened. "Headaches like that aren't a joke. I've seen what overclocked systems do to people. You've gotta take it easy until Kara lets you plug into something better."

Akiko shook her head, amused. "Kara? Let me take it easy? Good luck with that."

Raya laughed again. A quiet, melodic sound that softened the room's edges.

"Fair point," she said. "That's why I'm here. Someone's gotta keep you from burning out."

For a moment, Akiko let herself relax. The tension in her shoulders eased, just a little. She hadn't asked for Raya's kindness, but she couldn't deny it helped.

"Thanks, Raya," she said at last, voice quieter now. "I mean it."

Raya smiled, a hint of bashfulness in it. "Anytime. Just... don't make me regret it, okay?"

Akiko smirked, a flicker of mischief slipping back into place. "No promises."

Raya pushed off the wall, drifting toward the corridor.

Akiko watched her go, thoughts drifting too, back to Anna. The comparison was impossible not to make. But instead of getting caught in what was different, she let herself feel the comfort in what was familiar.

It wasn't the same. Maybe it didn't have to be.

The cabin felt smaller in Raya's absence. Quieter.

Akiko let her head rest against the wall, tail curling tighter around her legs. Her gaze slid to the corner where her pack was strapped in place. And beside it, the mining laser. The one she'd ripped from the entity's workshop and turned against it in desperation.

Now, it sat inert. Hollow. Without the entity's mana powering it, it was just cold metal.

She sighed, rubbing absently at her temple where the migraine still pulsed.

The laser had felt like a tether. Proof she could fight back, even when she was terrified. But now? Without magic to feed it, it was just another relic. A paperweight with delusions of grandeur.

Still... her eyes lingered on it.

She'd need it again. She didn't believe for a second that the entity was gone. It had retreated, nothing more. When it came back, and it would, she'd need everything. Every scrap of power, every trace of cunning. Every mistake turned weapon.

The laser was just one more thing she couldn't fix right now. No mana. No proper systems for her AI. No certainty Kara wouldn't shove her out an airlock the second she became dead weight.

But really, what was new?

A faint smile pulled at her lips. Her amber eyes glinted in the dim light.

Living on the edge, that part hadn't changed.

Back home, she'd survived by instinct and grit. Pickpocketing. Dancing for coin. Slipping through places she wasn't supposed to be. Every day had been another ledge to balance on.

Here, the stakes were higher. Less gold, more blood. But the rules? Same as ever.

Find the edge. Walk it. Don't fall.

Her tail flicked once against the bunk. She leaned back, gaze steady on the laser.

"I'll make it work," she murmured. "I always do."

The weapon caught a trace of light. Cold, quiet, mocking. Not a talisman. Not anymore.

But it was a reminder.

She'd stolen it from the entity once. She'd find a way to use it again.

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