“How long are you leaving for?” Victoria’s voice was warm, but a scratch of anxiety clawed beneath it, unhidden and raw.

  They still lay tangled in the dim bedroom, limbs lazily interwoven. The air was thick with the scent of wine, warm metal, and the faint trace of Darina’s skin. On the wall, a projection of the station’s schematics spun slowly, forgotten in their tipsy carelessness. Darina pressed her cheek to Victoria’s shoulder, her fingers tracing the line of her collarbone as if mapping a route—a lifeline or a parting.

  “You know I can’t spill the details,” she sighed, nestling closer, as if that could delay the inevitable.

  “I’ve got clearance,” Victoria purred, lifting her head with a sly smile.

  “Oh, I know all about your clearance,” Darina raised a skeptical brow but mirrored the grin. “Fine, since you’re so insistent—we’re heading to Jupiter’s orbit.”

  Victoria tensed. Her fingers stilled on Darina’s skin, her eyes narrowing.

  “Jupiter? Seriously?” Her tone held a lightness, but Darina caught the click of something shifting inside her, no bravado could mask it. “That’s been carved up for ages, hasn’t it? The Trojan clusters are practically a fortress for the Belt’s organized crime. Their own little empire. You’re going after them?”

  Darina snorted, yanking Victoria closer and brushing her lips against her shoulder.

  “Who said it’s about them?” She stretched exaggeratedly, feigning calm. “It’s just a route. Routine cleanup. Standard convoy escort.”

  “Oh, really?” Victoria propped herself on an elbow, her hair spilling across the sheet, her eyes igniting with that “engineer mode” glare. It was the look Holland used to scan a ship down to its bolts and pinpoint every flaw. “I saw your loadout before takeoff. Cutting-edge camo kits, autonomous AI cover drones, heavy support. All that for a convoy?”

  Darina huffed, flicking a finger at the empty wine glass still perched on the bedside panel.

  “You’re too smart for your own good, Holland.”

  “And you’re naive if you think you can just talk your way out of this,” Victoria grinned, but her fingers tightened on Darina’s shoulder.

  Darina paused, then covered Victoria’s hand with her own, tracing each knuckle as if committing it to memory.

  “Vic, the Trojans are just another arena. Miners, traders, politicians leaking data, corps who don’t give a damn about laws. And yeah, some folks who’d rather not be found. But it’s all just work. We’ll do what’s needed and come back.”

  “All under control?” Victoria bit her lip, holding her gaze.

  “Of course. Like always.”

  She smiled, leaning in, but Victoria didn’t let the conversation slip away so easily.

  “Darin…” She met her eyes dead-on. “I don’t want to hear about you from reports again. I don’t want to guess if you made it or not.”

  Darina sighed, cupping her cheek.

  “Listen, my sunshine. I’m not here by accident. They didn’t train us to die pretty. We’re going to work, not to perish. And I always come back. To you. Got it?”

  Victoria nodded, but the worry lingered in her eyes—no words could erase it.

  Darina saw it. And so she kissed her—slow, deep, as if imprinting the taste for when time might tear them apart again.

  “Still,” Victoria murmured as the air between them cooled, “it’s not just a convoy, is it?”

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  Darina didn’t answer right away.

  “When has it ever been ‘just’ anything?” She smirked faintly. “But we’ll handle it. We always do.”

  Victoria didn’t break her stare, her eyes catching the faint glow of dormant instruments in the dark. Darina sighed, her lips curling into a tired, honest half-smile.

  “At least we’ve got solid command. Major Harrison won’t let us fade out. She’s…” Darina chuckled, recalling details. “Like an ice blade. Dangerous, calculated, precise to a millimeter. Harsh—maybe too much. But if she’s tasked with something, it’s done. Period.”

  Victoria raised a brow, her fingers nervously tugging at a fold in the sheet.

  “Should I be jealous?” she asked innocently, tilting her head so dark strands fell over her shoulder.

  “Nah,” Darina snorted, though her eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of memory passing through. “Pretty sure they yanked all her emotions out during training. Like a machine. But she knows her shit perfectly. If she were different, she wouldn’t have survived.”

  She lazily traced a hand over her thigh, where faint scars—mementos of assaults, explosions, and breaches through zones no sane person would touch—glowed faintly in the dimness. Victoria tracked the motion, squeezing her hand tighter but saying nothing.

  “Sounds like quite a character,” she mused.

  “Oh, you have no idea,” Darina huffed, her tone losing its lightness. Her gaze held a mix of respect and wariness reserved for someone who’d pulled you from hell. “She’s not the type to hide behind anyone. If shit hits, she’s out front.”

  “Who’s got your back up top?” Victoria knew every strike team had someone shielding them politically.

  “Commander Reynolds,” Darina shrugged slightly. “One of the few who can rein Harrison in if needed. They’ve worked together forever. He dragged her out of a mess once that could’ve been her last op.”

  “Colonel Reynolds? The one overseeing your whole strike group?”

  “Yep, that’s him.” Darina reached for a water glass. “If Harrison’s the blade, Reynolds is the hand holding it.”

  Her fingers slid back to Victoria’s shoulder, savoring the familiar warmth. That touch carried everything—fear, love, and the unspoken promise to return, renewed time and again.

  Darina fell silent for a stretch, her finger sketching invisible patterns on Victoria’s skin, like a map of her thoughts. The quiet was too heavy, and Victoria caught it.

  “Come on, spit it out,” she said, rolling onto her side, propping her chin on her hand and peering up at her lover. “Why’d you clam up?”

  “Just…” Darina shrugged faintly. “I was thinking—you were obsessed with that expedition. Went nuts when they announced the call. I even heard you muttering about Erebus in your sleep. Now you’re quiet. Made up your mind?”

  Victoria looked away, studying the sheet as if it held an escape hatch. Then she inhaled deeply and gave a weak smile.

  “You know… it used to feel like the dream of my life. But things change.”

  “Change?” Darina frowned. “Vic, it’s Erebus. The first manned jump beyond the system. Everyone’s clawing for it. It’s history, damn it!”

  “History, yeah,” Victoria nodded, not arguing. “I just don’t want to be part of it. Not like that.”

  “Not like that?” Darina propped herself on an elbow, alarm flashing in her eyes. “What’s that mean? You’re giving up? You’re not the type to quit.”

  “I chose you,” Victoria said simply. “If they call me, I’ll say no.”

  Darina felt something inside her clench, like the air had been sucked out. For a second, she forgot how to breathe.

  “You’re insane,” she whispered. “This is everything you’ve dreamed of. Your damn Erebus. You’d really ditch it for me?”

  “For what else?” Victoria’s smile held more pain than joy. “I’ve chased stars my whole life, but I never thought I’d meet someone I’d stay on the ground for. Then I did.”

  Darina opened her mouth to argue, but the words stuck. Deep down, she’d feared this—that Victoria might choose her, and that choice might be wrong.

  “But you’ll regret it…” Her voice cracked.

  “Maybe,” Victoria nodded. “But I’ll never regret us.”

  Darina stared, unable to look away. Her eyes swirled with fear, love, confusion, gratitude—and the weight of a cost too high.

  “Idiot,” she muttered, pulling her into a fierce hug, holding her as if Victoria might vanish. “The stubbornest, most impossible idiot I’ve got.”

  “Your idiot,” Victoria whispered back, fingers burrowing into her hair. “Not going anywhere.”

  They lingered in that warmth, that silence where words weren’t needed—where every touch said more than the sharpest equations.

  But neither knew the truth.

  Victoria had already been selected. Her candidacy was locked in last week when Dr. Braun personally submitted the recommendation. She didn’t know yet. Her choice to stay with Darina felt like her own—but reality had already played its hand.

  That would come later. For now, just silence, their breaths in sync, skin against skin. Just this moment. And the stars outside, indifferent to the tiny cabin on a speck of a station at the Solar System’s edge.

  The stars could wait. Victoria would stay.

  Or so it seemed.