The mess hall doors hissed open under manual override, their edges groaning like old bones.

Servos had been stripped for parts, or burned out in the last attack, Akiko wasn't sure. The space beyond was dim, quiet in a way that wasn't restful.

She stepped inside. And the memories came rushing in like cold air through a breach.

Last time she'd walked this floor, she'd still been figuring out how her boots worked. Still pretending she belonged.

Now the boots clicked with purpose against the scorched decking, each step echoing in a space that felt...hollow. The usual chorus of voices and trays and sarcasm was gone. Only the occasional clink of utensils, the low murmur of a crew trying not to notice how empty everything had become.

The observation screen still hung at the far wall, but it glitched through static. Fractured. A sliver of space shimmered through a spiderweb crack, warped and unreal.

Anna floated ahead, her body loose in zero-g, magboots catching lightly beside their old table—third from the right.

"Still standing," Anna said, running a hand across the table. "That's better than I expected."

Akiko's boots locked down with a soft clunk beside her. Her gaze caught on the ceiling. One of the recessed light panels had split, its edges blackened and curling back like burnt leaves.

"How bad?" she asked.

Anna shrugged, trying for casual. "Bad enough. Hydroponics lit up like a bonfire. Fire in zero-g is... less fire, more 'dancing plasma snake of doom.'"

She made a wiggly motion with her fingers. "But I got the worst of it out before the venting kicked in."

Akiko winced. Fire and vacuum were a cruel combination. "You were in there?"

"Not for long," Anna replied with a crooked smile. "Just long enough to get yelled at about protocol. And earn myself a singed sleeve. Which is apparently worse than third-degree burns if you ask the laundry crew."

A laugh ghosted in Akiko's chest but didn't make it out. She shook her head, and some tension slipped from her shoulders. "And now?"

Anna gestured toward the table. "Now? Now I'm off shift until they decide what to do with a glorified salad technician. Hydroponics is toast. So you, Miss Interdimensional Warrior, are hereby on loan to me for mental health recovery."

Akiko raised an eyebrow. "Is that a rank now?"

"Absolutely. Chief Morale Officer. I'll make you a badge."

But when Akiko lowered herself into the seat beside Anna, the humor faded into something softer. The weld at the table's edge was still cracked. The view still framed that same sliver of screen. It hurt more than she expected.

"I came to help," she said quietly, eyes tracing the dim corners of the mess. "If I'm just sitting around—"

"You're not." Anna's voice sharpened. "You showed up. That means something. You don't know how many people in this room thought you were gone for good."

Akiko blinked. "I told you I was leaving. I didn't just vanish."

"I know," Anna said, quieter now. "But it still felt like you were gone. So now that you're back—even for a bit—I'm claiming my moment. That's fair, right?"

Akiko opened her mouth, then closed it again. She nodded. "One moment."

Anna grinned, already tapping her boots free and drifting toward the food line. "You'll see. It'll be therapeutic. They even fixed the rehydrator, it doesn't light things on fire anymore."

Akiko hesitated a beat before unlocking her boots and following. She moved slower, the hiss of magnetic release soft under her feet.

Just the two of them now, floating through a scarred space full of memory. Trying, maybe, to reclaim something whole in a world that kept breaking.

The rehydrator coughed. A wet, mechanical sound that echoed more like a sick animal than a piece of shipboard hardware.

Akiko flinched despite herself.

Anna didn't even blink, just shoved a tray into the slot with practiced timing, catching the result without missing a beat. She slid it across the table like she'd done a hundred times before, then dropped into the seat opposite with a sprawling sort of grace, one arm draped along the backrest. Her shoulders were loose. Her eyes weren't.

"I'd ask if it's better than you remember," Anna said, nodding toward the beige mass steaming on Akiko's tray, "but we both know it's not."

Akiko raised an eyebrow. "It's… rehydrated."

"Exactly."

Their eyes met across the table. And for a breath, they both broke, laughter bubbling up, quiet and irreverent, until it curled through the tension in Akiko's chest like steam from the tray. She let it carry her for a moment longer than she should have. Just this once.

The silence that followed was companionable, stretched between the hiss of distant welders and the flickering hum of the overheads. Not peace, exactly. But something close enough to pretend.

Then Anna's gaze lingered. Just a little too long. And when she spoke, her tone had softened into something more careful, deceptively casual.

"So… you ever hear from him?"

The spoon in Akiko's hand stilled mid-lift.

She didn't need to ask who Anna meant. "No. We said what we needed to say when I left."

Anna propped her chin on one hand, expression unreadable. "You sure about that? 'Cause I've seen the way he looks at that docking bay. Like he thinks he can wish you back into orbit."

Akiko set her spoon down. "It wasn't that serious."

"Tell that to Cassandra," Anna muttered, almost to herself. "She's been extra volcanic lately. Pretty sure she's the reason the mess hall walls have stress fractures."

Akiko blinked. "She always hated me."

"Nah." Anna tapped her lips with a finger, mock-thoughtful. "I think she envied you. You came in, all mysterious fox girl, saved the day a few times, then—bam. Pilot's bunk."

Akiko winced. "That wasn't... Look, it was a complicated time. We both knew it wasn't going to last."

"Mmhmm." Anna leaned back with a smirk. "Still can't decide what was more awkward. Watching you two try to pretend nothing was happening, or watching Cassandra swing and miss every time she tried to flirt with him."

Akiko buried her face in her hands. "He didn't notice, did he?"

"He never notices." Anna sighed like it was a universal truth. "The man could be hit in the face with a tactical flirtation strike and still ask for mission parameters."

Akiko snorted before she could help it.

Anna's smile lingered, but her voice gentled. "She's running triage now. Ops coordination, crew rotations, you name it. She's not sleeping. Not unless someone forces the issue. I've been sticking to hydroponics when she gets that look in her eye."

Akiko's smile faded. "I didn't mean to bring back tension."

"You didn't," Anna said, meeting her gaze squarely. "You brought back a reminder that things can still change."

Akiko opened her mouth to object. Closed it again. She wasn't sure what argument she'd been reaching for.

Instead, she looked back down at the mess of beige on her tray. She'd known worse. Somehow, that didn't make it easier to stomach.

Still, she gave a small nod and lifted the spoon again. The food was bland and warm and strangely grounding. Like a ritual. Like a thread to a past she wasn't sure she'd earned anymore.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

She took the next bite anyway.

The mess hall doors hissed open with a tired wheeze.

Akiko didn't look up. Probably just another tech sifting through what was left of the rehydrators. But Anna froze mid-bite, eyes wide, and that was the only warning she got before a voice cut through the haze:

"Well. Look who decided to drop by."

Akiko's head snapped up.

Ethan Raines stood in the doorway, sleeves rolled, uniform streaked with soot and grime. His hair was longer than she remembered, tousled like he'd either just pulled off a helmet or lost a round with his own nerves. The smirk was there, crooked and familiar, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Ethan," she said, evenly.

Next to her, Anna made a soft noise that sounded suspiciously like a smothered snort.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?" Ethan strode in like nothing had changed, like the ship wasn't half-crippled and no one had died.

"I came to help," Akiko said. She kept her voice neutral. Professional. "That's all."

"Glad you did. We need it." He stopped just short of the table, folding his arms. "I'd say it's good to see you, but... Cassandra's about five minutes away from vaporizing one of your people."

Akiko blinked. "Lila?"

He gave her a look.

"Right," she muttered.

"Cassandra wants targeting arrays yesterday. Lila's rerouting to stabilize environmental. I walked in mid-argument. Honestly surprised there's no blood yet." He ran a hand through his hair. Just once, like he regretted it. "Could use a buffer."

Anna leaned in, hopeful. "You want Akiko to go play diplomat?"

"I was hoping for five minutes of peace," Ethan said. "But yeah. That was the plan."

Akiko gave him a look. "You want me to talk down Cassandra."

"I want you to show up looking like a walking contradiction and remind everyone that the ship's still bleeding," he replied, deadpan. "Besides. You've always been good at cutting through the noise."

That pulled something taut in her chest. She hadn't expected to see him yet. Not like this. Not with the air between them already buzzing, old gravity reasserting itself.

Anna elbowed her gently. "I'll keep your spot warm."

Akiko pushed to her feet. "If I don't come back, make sure they don't name a drone after me."

"No promises," Anna grinned.

She fell into step beside Ethan, magboots ticking softly against scorched plating, the scent of burnt polymers still heavy in the air. Each step was a reminder of how close they'd come to losing everything, and how far from simple things had become.

The tension hit like a wall the moment Akiko stepped through the doorway beside Ethan.

Lila was already in the thick of it, shoulders squared, voice calm but firm as she faced down Cassandra across the central systems console. The room smelled of coolant and burned circuits. Triage for machines, not people. And several crew were working under Cassandra's clipped orders, their glances sharp and silent whenever the Driftknight name came up.

Akiko took one step into the compartment, and the entire dynamic shifted.

Cassandra's gaze lifted.

Whatever fire she'd been about to level at Lila went cold. Her jaw tightened. Her posture didn't change, but her focus narrowed like a beam weapon, locking on Akiko with surgical precision.

Akiko didn't flinch. But she felt it.

Ethan glanced between them, oblivious, or maybe just hoping to salvage something from the wreckage. "Figured we'd check in, see where support was needed," he said lightly, like he didn't notice the temperature in the room had dropped ten degrees.

Lila took the opening.

"I'll check the power grid relays," she said, already moving. She didn't wait for approval. Didn't look back.

Akiko let her go.

Cassandra didn't stop her either.

"Support?" Cassandra echoed, not even looking at Ethan now. Her eyes were all for Akiko. "Is that what this is?"

Akiko kept her voice even. "You're short on hands. We're here to help."

Cassandra's lips parted into something like a smile, but there was an edge of warning. "And I'm sure the people on Ashara said the same thing. Before you nearly blew a hole in the dome of Helios Terminal. It's been on all the newsfeeds."

Akiko felt that one land. Hard and precise.

But she didn't rise to it. "I didn't come for politics. Just to make sure your people survived the day."

Cassandra's shoulders dropped, just slightly, a faint exhale breaking through the tension. Her voice, when it came, was rougher, almost begrudging.

"Yeah," Cassandra muttered, almost to herself. A faint, weary concession. "We all want that."

She paused, fingers drumming against the edge of the console. Then gave a clipped nod.

"Fine. If you're here to help, then help. Just… don't make me regret it."

Akiko inclined her head, accepting the fragile truce for what it was.

She hadn't come for a fight. But it didn't mean she was going to disappear, either. Not when people still needed her.

She'd only taken three steps before the soft whine of a security door interrupted, shifting the tension of the room in a new direction.

Immediately she recognized the heavy stride, and turned. The squared shoulders, the set jaw like someone who'd already made up his mind before entering the room, it could only belong to one person.

Chief Hayes. His uniform was scorched at one sleeve, but nothing about his bearing had changed. Still rigid. Still watchful. Still convinced that Akiko Tsukihara was a problem to be solved by containment.

She straightened reflexively. Old muscle memory.

Hayes didn't spare her the courtesy of a greeting.

"Tsukihara," he said, voice clipped. "Captain's orders said to permit your presence. Didn't say anything about letting you run around unsupervised."

Akiko kept her hands loose at her sides. "I wasn't aware breathing counted as a threat to ship security."

"It does when you're the one doing it."

Before Ethan could jump in, Cassandra's voice cut through, low but edged with impatience. "Hayes, we don't have time for this. I need hands more than I need show trials."

Hayes didn't so much as flinch. "And I need to keep the Sovereign secure. If you've got an issue with that, Lieutenant, take it up with the bridge. Until then, security's my jurisdiction."

For a moment, it looked like Cassandra might press the point. Her jaw worked, breath drawn in sharp through her nose. Then she exhaled, the tension settling into a tight line across her shoulders.

"Fine. Just make sure your paranoia doesn't slow my teams down," she said, voice gone brittle. Her eyes cut to Akiko, something colder but also strangely resigned. "We're all stuck with each other today, like it or not."

Akiko's watched the tense negotations with narrowed eyes. She could burn this entire compartment down in under three seconds. Foxfire Flare would ignite every console in the room, and she could break line-of-sight before they even registered the detonation.

But she didn't. Because there was no challenge in that. Not anymore. And the escalation wasn't worth it.

Hayes stepped closer, hand brushing the magnetic cuffs at his belt. "Per Captain Ward's standing orders, I'm authorized to place you under protective restraint for the safety of crew and vessel."

The word protective nearly made her laugh.

Akiko raised an eyebrow. "Still dragging out the chains, Chief?"

"Unless you'd rather we upgrade."

She tilted her head, slow and deliberate. Her mana stirred like a sleeping dragon beneath her skin, waiting. Hungry. But she didn't reach for it. Not yet.

"I'll play nice," she said quietly. "For now."

Hayes narrowed his eyes. He didn't like that answer. But it was the only one that let him walk away without escalating.

"Wrists."

Akiko turned, offered her arms behind her without comment. The cuffs clicked into place. Cool metal, familiar weight, utterly meaningless now. She could shatter them whenever she chose.

Hayes kept a steady pace beside her, boots clicking sharp against the deck as they moved from one blackened corridor to the next. His grip on her elbow was just firm enough to broadcast control. Every step forward carried the hum of tension, like static waiting to arc.

Akiko said nothing. She could feel the stares they passed. Sovereign crew, bruised and busy, sparing glances at the chained kitsune walking under escort like a prisoner of war.

She'd expected the indignity to last a little longer. She hadn't expected Kara.

The Driftknight's captain stepped into the corridor from a side junction like she'd been waiting for this exact moment. One hand on her hip, her stance relaxed, but her jaw was set and her eyes were cold.

Hayes slowed. "This is a secured corridor."

Kara didn't flinch. "Good thing I don't care."

Akiko blinked. "You heard?"

"Lila's not subtle when she's angry," Kara said, gaze flicking to the cuffs. "And I don't tolerate my crew being dragged through someone else's mess."

Hayes squared his shoulders. "This is a Sovereign matter."

"She's Driftknight crew. If you've got a problem, take it up with me."

"And if I do?"

Kara's expression didn't change. "Then I suggest you bring backup."

The tension spiked, sudden and electric.

Akiko held still, watching it build. The narrow corridor, the Sovereign's silence, the faint flicker of mag-lights overhead. A single breath could've turned it volatile.

And then the corridor door hissed open behind them.

Captain Ward. She moved with her usual unshakable grace, a tablet tucked under one arm and a weariness in her eyes that hadn't been there the last time Akiko had seen her.

"Chief Hayes," Ward said, voice calm. "Stand down."

Hayes hesitated.

"That wasn't a suggestion."

With a jaw-tight click, the cuffs disengaged. Akiko pulled her wrists back, slow and smooth, rubbing where the cold metal had rested. The skin was unmarked.

Kara didn't say I told you so. But it was there in the tilt of her chin.

Ward didn't look at either of them. "We need her cooperation. Things in this system are unraveling, with or without her help. Let's not make enemies where we need allies."

Kara's comm clicked on. "Raya. Pull back from triage. We're done playing nice. Meet us at the ship."

A moment of silence, then: "On my way."

Akiko exhaled. Her shoulders ached with tension she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Kara turned to her. "We're heading back. The Sovereign can manage its own bandages."

"And us?"

Kara's smile was thin and sharp. "We've got a dragon's hoard to claim."

And just like that, the tension snapped back into existence, taut as a frayed rope.

"You can't be serious," Ward said flatly. "You want to dive into that death trap when we've just gotten the dragon off our back?"

Kara didn't even look at her. "I'm very serious. We're salvagers. We salvage."

"You're putting your crew at unnecessary risk. That creature nearly tore my ship apart. There's no telling what it left behind."

"Exactly," Kara said, turning to face her now. "Which is why we're going to find out before Haven claims it, or someone worse does."

Ward's expression stayed unreadable. "I won't allow it. That location is sensitive and shouldn't be allowed to enter the system's markets."

Kara's mouth curved into a humorless smile. "You don't give orders on my ship."

Ward's composure cracked, just a hairline fracture. "You're reckless, Ellan. Every decision is a gamble. One day, your crew will pay for it."

Kara let the words hang. Then, evenly: "Maybe. But I won't let fear decide for me."

Ward stepped back. Her shoulders stiffened. "Then proceed. With the damage to the Sovereign, we can't stop you. But don't expect Haven to clean up your mess."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Akiko hovered near the corridor, gaze flicking between them. The air felt tight with unspoken history and something sharper. Consequence. Kara's confidence radiated like a gravity well.

Ward's warning was a line in the sand.

Kara turned back, voice low and final. "Get moving, little fox. We've got work to do."

Akiko nodded once. Her boots clicked free. She pushed off toward the airlock, heart steady but heavy.

Behind her, the silence between the captains lingered, sharp as scorched metal.

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