The door burst open and Seraphine strode in like a storm, ready to break anything in its path.

  I'd seen Seraphine in full professional mode. I'd seen her frustrated. I'd seen her carefully controlled over dinners and briefings. I'd seen her cold during an interrogation of her own.

  I'd never seen her like this.

  Her silver-white hair caught the harsh overhead lights as she swept into the room. Her uniform was immaculate, her posture rigid, every line of her body radiating cold authority.

  The anger wasn't directed at me. I knew that. But I still found myself straightening in my chair, spine protesting.

  That woman is terrifying.

  Behind her came Cornelius, his expression composed but his body tense.

  And behind him, a young man I didn't know. Mid-twenties, maybe. Dark skin, close-cropped hair, formal clothing that was simple but precisely tailored. He carried a data pad like a weapon. His face was professionally neutral, but his eyes were sharp.

  The Lieutenant shot to her feet, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.

  "Who are you? What are you doing here?" Her voice rose. "This is a restricted area! You have no authority..."

  Seraphine's voice cut through like a blade.

  "No authority?" The words dripped with aristocratic contempt. "I am Baroness Seraphine Ventari, Fleet Captain of the Imperial Navy, Rapid Intervention Division. Watch your tone when addressing a ranked noblewoman."

  The Lieutenant's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

  Seraphine didn't give her time to recover.

  "Why is this man in custody? Under what charges are you holding him?"

  "I... this is a matter of imperial security." The Lieutenant straightened, trying to reclaim ground. "This man is transporting illegal goods without proper permits. He possesses banned equipment that threatens the security of this station. I have every right..."

  Seraphine laughed.

  It wasn't a pleasant sound. Cold, sharp, dismissive. The laugh of someone who had just heard something beneath contempt.

  "Imperial security?" She took a step forward. The Lieutenant took a step back. "You are dock security, Lieutenant. Civilian security, operating under the umbrella of the Mercantile Hegemony. A civilian."

  Another step forward. Another step back.

  "Tell me. In what universe is imperial security more your jurisdiction than that of a noble and serving member of the imperial military?"

  The Lieutenant's face had gone pale. "I... the regulations clearly state... " She was stammering under the pressure of Seraphine's gaze. "For matters related to a docked ship... under our jurisdiction..."

  That was when the young man stepped forward.

  "Hello." His voice was calm, pleasant even. "I am Attorney Kofi Mensah, of the Shin Saimdang Foundation. I represent Mr. Beaumont."

  Her expression shifted. This young man had made her deeply uncomfortable.

  I was right, she had no legal grounds to detain me.

  "I will need to see," Attorney Mensah continued, "the written articles of custody records and the probable cause affidavits that you submitted to your administration before bringing my client into detention. Standard procedure requires documentation of charges, notification to relevant authorities, and provision for legal representation within..." he consulted his data pad. "Four hours of initial custody. By my count, Mr. Beaumont has been held for approximately twenty-six hours."

  "The documentation is... that is to say... the circumstances required..."

  "The documentation, Lieutenant." His voice remained pleasant. Almost gentle. "Please."

  The back-and-forth lasted several minutes. The Lieutenant tried to invoke security protocols, emergency provisions, special circumstances. The lawyer met each attempt with citations, precedents, specific legal requirements that had clearly not been met. He never raised his voice. He never needed to. Each quiet sentence landed like a hammer blow, while Seraphine, radiating fury, loomed behind.

  By the end, it was obvious even to me: whatever authority she thought she had, it wasn't legal. The paperwork either didn't exist or was grossly inadequate.

  "Mr. Beaumont." Attorney Mensah gestured toward the door. "You are free to go."

  Finally!

  My legs nearly buckled. Twenty-six hours in that chair. My muscles had forgotten how to work. Pain shot through my right leg as the cramp I'd been nursing for hours finally seized.

  Cornelius was there. His hand under my elbow, steadying me without a word.

  "Easy," he murmured. "Take your time."

  Seraphine was already at the door. She paused there, turned back to the Lieutenant, who was still standing behind the table, pale and rigid.

  "You will remain here, Lieutenant Hadworth." Her voice was ice. "An Imperial Inquisitor is en route to this station. You will have all the time you need to explain what you did, and why, to someone with the proper authority to evaluate your answers."

  Not waiting for an answer, she walked out, and the woman who had spent two days trying to break me was left standing alone in her own interrogation room, looking defeated.

  We walked out after her. Through the door I'd been staring at for what felt like a lifetime.

  And into chaos.

  The dock security area beyond the interrogation room had been transformed. Marines in Imperial Navy uniforms were everywhere. They moved with purpose, with authority.

  At one station, a Navy officer was questioning a pale-faced dock security man, data pad in hand, voice clipped and professional. At another, two marines had commandeered a console and were downloading files while a security supervisor watched helplessly. A senior dock official was trying to protest something to a Navy Lieutenant Commander, but the officer simply talked over him, listing violations in a bored monotone.

  Seraphine didn't just come to get me. She came with force. This is a full military lockdown of the security wing.

  I caught the eye of one of the security guards who had escorted me to the bathroom during the night. His face was ashen. He looked away quickly.

  The walk through the security area was surreal. Twenty-six hours ago, these people had complete power over me. Now they were the ones being questioned, watched, documented.

  I shouldn't have felt satisfaction at that.

  I felt it anyway.

  The corridor beyond was too bright. Too loud. Too much open space after that cramped box of a room. I squinted against the light and kept walking, Cornelius's hand still steadying me.

  We exited the security wing with a full platoon of marines around us. I wasn't sure if they were an escort or a statement. Probably both.

  Seraphine walked at the front, rigid, silent. She hadn't spoken since her parting words to Hadworth.

  The wide corridors of the station parted ahead of us like water. People saw the uniforms and stepped aside. Some with curiosity, most with the instinct of civilians who knew better than to get between the military and wherever it was going. I caught a few wide-eyed looks. A mother pulling her child closer. A dockworker who simply turned and walked the other direction.

  We reached the nearest shuttle station. My legs were barely cooperating. They felt like wet rope. Cornelius kept his hand at my elbow, and I let him, which told me exactly how bad I looked.

  The shuttle car wasn't empty when we arrived. It was empty by the time we boarded. The passengers took one look at the marines filing onto the platform and decided the next car would suit them fine.

  Seraphine sat across from us, staring at the forward bulkhead. Mensah took notes. Nobody spoke.

  The fury was still there. I could see it in the set of her jaw, the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands rested in her lap with deliberate stillness.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  She didn't look at me. Not once. Her gaze stayed fixed on the shuttle's forward bulkhead.

  We were supposed to be safe. And I was taken before she could do anything.

  Cornelius stayed close to me. Attorney Mensah sat close enough to be part of the group, but far enough to give us space, making notes on his data pad with quick, precise movements. Nobody spoke.

  The hotel staff had worried glances when we entered, but they quickly assessed the situation and kept their composure. Unobtrusive, helpful.

  The suite door slid open, and Rosalia was there.

  She looked terrible. Shadows under her eyes. Hair less perfectly maintained than I'd ever seen it. The composed diplomat was nowhere to be found. Just a worried friend who had clearly spent the night imagining the worst.

  Seeing me, her expression cracked. Relief first. Then concern at the state of me. Then questions.

  "Nicolas. What happened? We looked everywhere, but no one would tell us anything. The docking authority said you had been taken for questioning but refused to say where or why..."

  "I'll explain," I said, my voice still rough. "I promise. But first..."

  I held up three fingers.

  "Bathroom. Food. Water that doesn't taste like recycled hull sealant."

  Rosalia's eyes widened. "They did not feed you?"

  "Energy bars. A bottle of water that had been through the recyclers about fifty times too many." I grimaced at the memory. "That's it. Over a day."

  Seraphine had moved to the window. She stood with her back to us, arms crossed, looking out at the station sprawl. I watched her from the corner of my eye while Rosalia ushered me toward the bathroom.

  An hour later, I felt almost human again.

  The hotel's food synthesizer wasn't remotely close to Hyperion Deep's ChefPro, but it was infinitely better than energy bars. Real food. Real water. A bathroom visit that wasn't supervised by armed guards.

  We sat around the suite's table with cups of tea. Seraphine seemed to have calmed down. She was sipping her tea, focused on my every move. Her comm buzzed periodically. She glanced at it, typed brief responses with sharp movements, but said nothing aloud.

  I told them everything. The interrogation. The relentless questions. The accusations of smuggling lasers that were just my ship's weapons, the demands for buyers and contacts that didn't exist. My refusal to answer after the first few hours. The long night. The fear that words might eventually turn into something worse.

  Attorney Mensah took extensive notes, sometimes stopping me to ask for details or clarifications. Always in a calm and friendly voice, never truly intruding or making me lose the thread.

  That guy is good. The Empire really sent us their best.

  The others just listened, each processing in their own way. Rosalia seemed to want to memorize everything for later analysis. Cornelius just listened. He looked troubled but felt like a reassuring presence. Seraphine was... guarded. She had regained her composure and was doing her best not to let any of her real emotions show.

  When I finished, Attorney Mensah closed his notes and nodded.

  "This is consistent with what Lady Rainmaker described to me, and with the procedural violations Captain Ventari documented during the intervention." He rose, gathering his materials. "I have everything I need for the formal complaint. This will not affect the timeline of your citizenship appeal; that process is already on an expedited track. But the complaint itself will be filed separately, and it will carry weight. You can expect a hefty compensation."

  He was gathering his materials when Seraphine put down her mug and straightened her shoulders.

  "I owe you an explanation." Her voice was clipped, precise. "The site of the pirate attack and the surrounding systems warranted a more thorough examination than I had initially planned. Sensor sweeps, debris analysis, patrol route mapping. I wanted to be certain we had not missed secondary installations or escape routes. The investigation required my direct oversight." Another pause. "By the time I completed that work and made transit to Varkesh Prime, you had already been in custody for almost two days."

  "It's not your fault," I said. I looked at her directly. "You were doing your job. The investigation mattered. Nobody could have predicted that station security would pull something like this the day after we docked."

  She held my gaze for a moment. Something shifted behind her eyes. Her posture softened.

  "Perhaps not," she said. "But it reflects poorly on the Empire that a person under imperial protection was subjected to unlawful detention on an imperial station. And it reflects on me personally." Her voice hardened. "I was assigned to ensure your safety during the transition to civilian status. That is my duty. I failed to execute it in a timely manner, and you suffered for it."

  So this wasn't just Seraphine taking a personal interest in the weird guy with the impossible ship. This was on her record. On her honor. When I vanished into a basement cell, it hadn't just been terrifying for me. It had made her look like she'd failed at the one clear job she'd been officially given.

  None of this had been her fault, but she'd still have to explain it to admirals and to her father and to whoever in the Empire thought "imperial protection" was a promise that couldn't be broken.

  "I know this puts you in a bad spot," I said. "But you got me out. That's what matters to me."

  "It is not sufficient." Her voice carried an edge that brooked no argument. "Before I came to retrieve you, I contacted my father. Baron Ventari has informed the relevant authorities at fleet command. People in high places are aware of what happened here, and they are not pleased."

  She let that settle.

  "The Empire will compensate you for what you have endured. Formally. That process is already in motion." Her gaze held mine. "And I personally owe you a debt. You were placed under my protection, and you came to harm. That is not something I take lightly, and it is not something I intend to leave unbalanced."

  A debt.

  The kind that, in a society built on noble obligations and hierarchical honor, actually meant something. She was putting herself on the record.

  I wasn't sure what to do with that. Part of me wanted to tell her she didn't owe me anything. But the look in her eyes told me that particular argument would go nowhere.

  "I appreciate that," I said instead. "All of it."

  Something shifted in her expression. Not softer, exactly. But the rigid tension eased, just slightly. As if my acceptance had released a pressure valve she'd been holding closed.

  She gave a short nod. The conversation was over.

  Attorney Mensah had stayed silent during the exchange. He now came to me and shook my hand, then Rosalia's. "I will be in touch within a day or two. Rest, Mr. Beaumont."

  Seraphine stepped closer and turned to us.

  "I will take my leave as well. I have duties to attend to, and you need to rest." She wasn't just looking at me; her gaze swept over all of us as she added, in a softer voice, "All of you."

  She and Mensah left together. Mensah with a polite nod, Seraphine with a curt one. She walked out without looking back.

  After their departure, silence fell and we quietly emptied our mugs.

  Cornelius set down his tea with deliberate care, and something in the gesture made me look at him more carefully.

  He hadn't spoken much during my account. Had barely touched his cup. His expression was the carefully composed mask of someone thinking hard about something they didn't want to share.

  "I also need to explain things to you. When I went to the local Ecclesiarch branch, I encountered obstacles."

  Rosalia and I exchanged a glance.

  "I assumed it was normal bureaucratic delay," he continued. "No church likes having a direct agent of the Ecclesiarch suddenly visiting. But more forms that needed processing. Key officials were unavailable. Systems were temporarily down for maintenance." He shook his head. "I expected to be done in a few hours. But everything took longer than it should have. Every step required waiting, insistence, arguing."

  "You stayed at the temple overnight," I said. I remembered the message. Meeting running long. Nothing to worry about.

  "By evening, I still hadn't completed my reports. The temple administrators told me the systems would be back online first thing in the morning. They offered me a guest cell for the night; standard hospitality for official visitors." He spread his hands. "It seemed practical. No point traveling back to the hotel only to return at dawn."

  He paused. When he continued, his voice had hardened almost imperceptibly.

  "They kept me there. Comfortable, unworried, and separated from both of you for the entire night. By the time morning came..."

  "The trap was already set," Rosalia said. Her voice was flat. "The day Nicolas was taken."

  "Yes." Cornelius met my eyes. "I returned to the temple systems that morning, intending to finish quickly. And that is when I realized what was actually happening."

  Another pause. Longer this time.

  "The Church of Enlightened Knowledge controls the local Ecclesiarch office. Not just influence. They hold the key administrative positions. They manage the communication systems." He let that settle. "And they were not simply being slow with me. They were actively blocking my access."

  His voice remained calm. Patient. But I could hear the frustration underneath.

  "It took me the entire day to find a workaround. An old contact from my Navy days worked in the station communications, outside the Ecclesiarch's systems entirely. He owed me a favor." He spread his hands again. "I managed to send a secured report to the Ecclesiarch council late that night. By which point you had already been in custody for hours, and I had no idea where you were."

  Silence settled over the table.

  "You think they are connected," Rosalia said. Not a question. "The Church of Enlightened Knowledge and Nicolas's detention."

  "Your detention was not a random bureaucratic overreach," Cornelius said, looking at me. "Someone may have wanted you held in place. Isolated. Unable to communicate. Unable to leave. And me kept comfortable and separated at the temple, unable to intervene."

  "Held until what?"

  "Until someone could arrive to deal with you. Someone with higher authority. Or an extraction team."

  The room went very quiet.

  "The faction has resources," he continued. "Contacts throughout the Empire. We couldn't stay in your ship. Someone may have sensed you in transit. Or sensed the aura of the Mahkkra. Or the details of your deal with the Empire leaked and someone tipped off the Adepts. How they found out doesn't really matter. What matters is that they know who you are and where you are."

  "Then we need to leave," Rosalia said immediately.

  "We can't." I heard my own voice, flat with realization. "Our citizenship appeals are in process. The ships are impounded as part of the legal proceedings. Until the situation is resolved..."

  "We are stuck," Rosalia finished.

  Cornelius nodded. "For now, we stay together. We stay alert. And we hope that Captain Ventari's intervention disrupted whatever was planned."

  I looked out the window. The station sprawled beneath us. The Adepts of Absolute Truth or their agents were there. Hiding, preparing to come for me.

  Through the window, beyond the towers and domes and transit lines, beyond the blinking navigation lights of a thousand ships, I could see the stars.

  They were beautiful. They always were. Every time I looked up and remembered that this was real.

  This galaxy was full of wonders I hadn't seen yet. And I wasn't about to let a bunch of fanatical researchers in a hidden laboratory take that away from me.