Akiko unlatched the harness and let herself float.

The dragon was gone. Not destroyed. Not even driven back. Just... gone.

Space still trembled in its wake, scarred by gravity surges and lingering mana currents, but the threat had passed. And now the silence pressed in harder than the chaos ever had.

She remained on the Driftknight's bridge, gaze locked on the fractured hull of the Sovereign. The capital ship floated nearby, dim and half-limp, its structure wrapped in heat shimmers and vented coolant clouds.

It looked like it was dying.

Kara's voice broke the quiet. "We're stable. For now."

Quinn didn't reply. His focus stayed tight on the flight systems. Lila was already pulling diagnostics, fingers flicking through data faster than Akiko could track.

But Akiko wasn't looking at the ship. She was thinking about the people inside.

Anna. Ethan. Dr. Calloway. Maybe even Chief Kessler. People who didn't deserve to be left adrift, wounded or worse.

She turned. "We need to go to them."

Kara glanced up. "We're not a medevac ship."

"They're hurt," Akiko said. "You saw the damage. They might not have life support in every section. If there's a fire, if the reactor's compromised—"

"They're Haven military," Kara said, more level than dismissive. "They've got protocols. Backup systems. Reinforcements inbound, probably."

"They'll survive long enough for someone else to take the credit?" Akiko's tail flicked sharply behind her. "That ship was clawed apart because it saved us. We owe them."

Raya's voice was soft. She floated halfway through the bridge hatch, her expression resolute. "It's not just about owing."

All eyes turned to her.

Her gaze flicked between Kara and Akiko. "If people are injured, I can help. If we wait, it might be too late."

Kara exhaled through her nose. "And what if Haven sees this as a stunt? Unauthorized aid from a civilian ship, harboring someone they've already flagged?"

"I'm not trying to play politics," Akiko said. "I just want to make sure they're alive."

"Doesn't matter what you want," Kara muttered. "Matters what they see."

Lila finally looked up from her console. "We're already running hot on system stress. If we board, you'll have to navigate half the corridors manually. Some parts of the Sovereign might not have clean atmosphere or power. I can patch it, if we're lucky."

"Not a no," Akiko said.

"Not a yes either," Lila replied, eyes narrowing.

Kara fell silent. The bridge hummed around them, tension curling in the stale air.

Then she looked at Akiko. "You think they'll let you walk on that ship and help?"

Akiko didn't blink. "I think if we wait, we'll regret it."

Another moment of silence.

Kara clicked her tongue. "Quinn, keep us on approach. Non-hostile vector. We're offering aid. That's the story."

Quinn nodded. "Copy that."

Raya drifted closer, her shoulder brushing against Akiko's for just a moment. "We'll go together."

Kara didn't answer immediately. She looked between them, then gave a short nod. "Then move fast. Before command has time to shut us down."

They moved, passing through the Driftknight's corridors in silence, until they arrived at the ship's docking ring.

The umbilical extended with a mechanical clunk, locking into place against the Sovereign's outer hull. A low shudder passed through the corridor as pressure equalized.

Akiko floated forward in silence, then locked herself to the floor with a click of her magboots. Raya moved just behind her, a soft, steady presence. Lila brought up the rear, toolkit slung under one arm, eyes scanning every panel they passed.

The interior lights dimmed as they neared the airlock, a product of borrowed power, diverted systems, and strain.

"We're docked," Lila said. "But their side's dead. No pressure signals. No power to the hatch."

Akiko pressed a hand to the Sovereign's outer door. Cold. Too still. She could feel the hum of the Driftknight at her back, but this ship… it was quiet in the way that meant something had gone wrong.

"Manual override?" she asked.

Lila nodded. "Looks intact. Might be sticky."

They worked in silence. Akiko braced the panel, while Lila twisted the release with practiced precision. The lock gave way with a groan, metal protesting against inertia and heat-warped casing.

As the hatch cracked open, smoke curled through the gap. It hung heavy, curling in thick tendrils around the red lights, clinging to the walls like it didn't want to leave.

Akiko coughed once. The sharp tang of ozone hit her nose a second later. Something had arced. Burned out. With a thought, the permeability of her suit's oxygen shield tightened. It still took a moment for her eyes to stop watering.

She pulled the hatch open the rest of the way.

The interior was dark. Emergency lights blinked faintly overhead, casting rhythmic pulses across the corridor beyond. Shadows danced between bursts of red and amber.

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A distant groan echoed from deeper inside, metal shifting under its own weight.

"What was that?"

"Thermal expansion," Lila offered, distracted. "Or stress fractures. Take your pick."

"Let's just hope it's not the hull," Raya said under her breath, sweeping her gaze over the dim passage.

Akiko moved ahead, passing a torn bulkhead. The metal was scorched black, seams twisted as if punched from inside.

Then came the voices. No clear words, just sound. Low. Pained. Some whispered. Others cried out sharply and then fell silent again. The sound of wounded. The sound of survivors.

Akiko stepped forward, her magboots engaging to keep her stable.

The floor beneath her boots vibrated faintly, each step met with uneven resistance. Smoke clung to every surface. The Sovereign was still warm from the dragon's grip. She could feel it in the air, like breath held too long.

Raya followed close behind, her expression focused.

Lila paused just inside the hatch, checking her scanner. "Minimal atmospheric bleed. Internal barriers are holding. For now."

Akiko nodded. Her ears flicked toward the sound of motion down a side corridor. Boots. Stretchers. Distant calls for medics.

The three of them moved cautiously. A wide corridor emerged from the smoke, scattered with debris. Emergency lights bathed everything in flickering red.

Stretchers lined the walls. Crew members hunched over makeshift medkits, blood smearing gloves and floor tiles alike. The lights overhead flickered in uneven pulses, washing everything in amber and red.

Akiko hesitated on the threshold. She recognized the scent before she saw the woman, disinfectant layered over smoke and scorched metal.

Dr. Calloway stood near the center of the bay, sleeves rolled up, hands stained. Her face was pale with fatigue, but focused. She looked up, and froze.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Akiko offered a small nod. "Hey."

Calloway blinked, once. Her expression didn't soften, exactly, but the clinical edge faded.

"You made it," she said quietly. "I wasn't sure."

"I wasn't either."

Another pause. The noise of the triage bay surged around them; cries of pain, the hiss of field sealants, medics moving in a blur.

Calloway's eyes flicked to Akiko's tail, then to Raya and Lila trailing behind. A dozen unspoken questions hovered behind her eyes, but none of them surfaced.

"I don't have time for a debrief," she said, voice taut with urgency. "Not with half my bay overflowing."

Akiko nodded. "I'm not here for answers. I came to help."

She turned to glance at Raya, who had already drifted toward a cluster of wounded. Her hands glowed faintly, warmly, like fire remembered in muscle and breath. The air around her shimmered as her magic unfolded.

Calloway's eyes widened. "What is she doing?"

"Healing," Akiko said softly.

"That's not—" Calloway stepped forward instinctively, then stopped. "That's not tech. That's not even biotic stimulation. What is that?"

"Magic."

They watched in silence as Raya knelt beside a young officer, his side wrapped in burned fabric and pressure foam. She didn't chant. Didn't posture. Just touched. The foam hissed. The burns faded.

Calloway exhaled slowly. "Is she from your world, then?"

"No," Akiko said. "She's from here."

Calloway didn't answer. Her hands flexed at her sides, fingers twitching as if reaching for tools she didn't have.

"I've been patching people together with tape and adrenaline for twelve hours," she said. "If she can help, tell her to keep going."

Raya moved on to the next crew member, the glow returning.

Akiko stayed beside the doctor. "It's good to see you again, Doc," she said, voice soft.

Calloway's lips twitched. "You have a habit of showing up when everything's broken."

Akiko's ears flicked. "It's part of my charm."

A short laugh escaped Calloway's throat. Then her gaze swept the corridor again.

"We're barely holding together. Whatever that thing was… it tore through us like paper. The captain's trying to hold it down, but morale's bleeding faster than our medical supplies."

Akiko nodded slowly. "We'll help however we can."

Then Calloway turned back to her work, already moving.

Akiko stood there for a moment longer, the sounds of pain and healing swirling together like smoke and breath.

She stepped out of the triage bay and into the corridor beyond, the door sealing behind her with a sigh and a flicker of dim status lights.

Lila followed, pausing only long enough to secure her toolkit against one shoulder.

Akiko nodded toward the corridor junction. "Engineering's that way. Find someone with stripes and tell them we can stabilize their grid if they'll stop rerouting power through melted junctions."

Lila raised an eyebrow. "You're assuming their lead engineer didn't get spaced."

"If Chief Kessler did," Akiko said dryly, "they'll be glad you showed up."

Lila gave a short nod and turned down the corridor without another word. Her footsteps faded into the distance, the soft clicks of magboots enaging echoing down the broken hall.

Akiko was alone again. She leaned against the wall and let her head fall back until it touched the bulkhead. For a moment, she simply watched the emergency lights pulse down the corridor. Faint blue-white. A heartbeat for a wounded ship.

She was giving orders now. That hadn't been the plan.

Back in the old world, she'd followed Kaede or Valric. Even when she pushed the plan sideways, someone else always wore the burden of command. And here? On the Sovereign, on the Driftknight, there'd always been someone with a rank, a plan, a voice loud enough to command a crew.

She had never wanted to be that voice. She still didn't. But she was starting to realize… she stepped up anyway.

Just like the entity's station. Just like Ashara. When it all fell apart, and the choices closed in like teeth, she didn't run. Not really.

She moved. And if no one else could, she didn't wait for permission. That was different from command. But maybe not by much.

She looked down at her hand, flexed her fingers once. The lights shimmered off the foxfire traces in her suit. Blue on black. Warmth in frost.

There were things only she could do now. And people, people only she could protect.

She pushed off the wall and headed deeper into the Sovereign.

She rounded the corner at a steady pace, her thoughts still trailing in half-formed shapes. The hum of failing systems pressed in from all sides, low and broken like a ship catching its breath after nearly drowning.

Then... impact. A blur of brown curls and movement launched out of a side corridor with the kind of velocity that only joy or reckless disregard for Newtonian law could explain.

"Akikooooo!"

The warning came mid-tackle, which meant it wasn't one.

Anna hit her like a meteor.

Akiko's boots locked down with a magnetic snap, saving both of them from a cartwheeling disaster. She staggered but didn't fall, arms flailing reflexively before catching Anna mid-spin.

Anna wrapped around her like an affectionate spaceborne octopus.

"You're alive!" she laughed, clinging tighter. "Oh stars, you're alive. And back. And not secretly a ghost."

Akiko blinked, breath catching up with her. "Well," she said, "that's one way to say hello."

"I missed you!" Anna pulled back just enough to beam at her, face flushed, eyes wide, her hair a zero-g halo. "You didn't message. You didn't sneak into the comm net. We thought you were off doing something dangerous and stupid and you were, weren't you?"

Akiko tried to scowl. It almost stuck. "Guilty," she admitted. "Though I'd argue with the stupid part."

Anna made a noise that sounded like a scoff wrapped around a hug. "You left. I knew you were leaving, but still. I had to clean out your locker, you know."

Akiko's throat caught for half a breath. "Sorry."

"Don't be. You're here now."

That was Anna. No lingering pain. No demands. Just now.

Akiko glanced down at the slight girl clinging to her like gravity forgot how to function. Anna's presence pulled memories forward. Shared bunks, whispered gossip over midnight ration bars, chaotic mornings and half-slept shifts.

That bunk space had been tight. Cramped. Loud. It had felt more like belonging than anywhere Akiko had ever been at the time. Leaving had been harder than she'd let herself admit.

Being back, even for a moment, was harder still.

"I'm not staying," Akiko said, gently. "We're just here to help."

Anna didn't flinch. Didn't lose the smile. "Figures. You're way too cool for us now. Magic foxgirl saves the galaxy."

"Don't start," Akiko warned, flushing.

"Too late," Anna said, eyes bright. "Come on. I'll walk you to the mess. The good chairs still suck, and I bet you haven't eaten anything that wasn't half a protein bar in weeks."

Akiko let herself smile. It wasn't much, but it was good to be back, just for a little while.

"Lead the way."

Anna pushed off gently, floating backward in practiced drift.

Akiko followed, footsteps slow, steady, held to the deck by just enough force to keep her grounded.

If only it were always that easy.

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