We drifted in low orbit above Kelthar-3, nestled in the shadow of a half-shattered asteroid belt. From up here, the planet looked cold, blue and distant, like a frozen rock left to rot at the edge of the galaxy. But that was the atmosphere lying to you. Standard optical refraction.

  Below? Swamps. Jungle. Rivers thick as veins. A wet, rotting mess tangled in green and mud.

  The plan was… unconventional, to say the least.

  Originally, it was a simple data grab. Sneak in, pull the files, ghost out.

  But now? Now I was going to kidnap the guy. Or… what’s the word for kidnapping an adult? Adultnapping? Abducting? Whatever. I was going to nab him, take his place, and pray no one noticed the difference.

  Cleaner. Quieter. And if I moved fast enough, maybe even survivable.

  “Ares, what’s the transit window?”

  “Shuttle M-17,” Ares replied. “Leaving Varos Relay in twenty-seven minutes. Single passenger. Officer Nellan. Logistics. Low-clearance. No escort.”

  “Destination?”

  “Civilian drop at Kallis Mining Outpost. Eight clicks east of the blacksite. Standard protocol. They don’t want the locals knowing what’s out there.”

  “Smart,” I muttered. “Sneak ‘em in through the back door.”

  Zara turned from the console. “So we hit the shuttle?”

  “We hit the shuttle.”

  “Mid-flight?”

  I nodded.

  She didn’t argue.

  “Ares, give me control window.”

  “You’ll have a ten-minute intercept window just before it hits atmo. Directional EMP will disable guidance without cooking the onboard AI. I’ll handle the docking.”

  “Good. We board, sedate him, lock him up.”

  “His credentials?” Zara asked.

  Ares chimed back in. “Already pulled. I’ll spoof the biometrics. Face, gait, vitals, all matched to your profile.”

  “Anything genetic?”

  “Not at entry level. No blood, no DNA checks. It’s just a door they don’t want anyone knowing exists.”

  “Queue the message. But don’t send it until we’ve got him off that shuttle and his systems are dead.”

  Ares responded, “Understood. Message will be held until intercept confirmed and identity spoof is active.”

  “Good. One voice. No echoes.”

  Zara leaned back in the chair, arms crossed. “What do we do with him after?”

  “Throw him in the brig,” I said. “Keep him comfortable.”

  “Comfortable?”

  I shrugged. “He’s not our problem unless he becomes one.”

  Ares spoke again. “Shuttle’s in pre-launch. We move in forty.”

  Nothing left to do but wait and waiting never sat right with me.

  I made my way down to engineering.

  Nyx was there, crouched by an open panel, elbow-deep in wiring, cursing softly in French. Her jacket was half-off, tank top clinging to skin slick with sweat and grease.

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  “You always fix things like you're disarming a bomb?”

  She didn’t look up. “You always flirt like you're already dead, mon chéri?”

  I leaned against the bulkhead. “That obvious?”

  Nyx wiped her hands on a rag, then stood and walked right up into my space. Too close. Her fingers brushed the front of my shirt like she was checking if I was real. Or maybe just reminding herself.

  “You do not plan to die, yes?”

  I held her gaze. “Not today.”

  She pressed her forehead to mine for a beat. No kiss. Just contact. Heat and static and everything unspoken.

  “Commander,” Ares chirped through the overhead. “Shuttle M-17 entering intercept range.”

  I pulled back. “Time to go.”

  In the armory, I slipped into the breach suit, matte black, zero-profile, lined with lightweight ceramic plating. Breathable, flexible, and sealed for vacuum.

  Zara handed me the tranq rifle. Sleek, compact. Fires a condensed neuro-stun charge. Drops a man in seconds, no permanent damage… unless you overcook it.

  “Single shot should do it,” she said. “Unless he’s hopped up on stims.”

  “Then I hit him twice.”

  “Clean. No blood. We don’t want his DNA anywhere.”

  “Noted.”

  Nyx leaned in from the corner, eyeing me as I stripped out of my shirt.

  “Oh là là,” she murmured, voice thick with that lazy, teasing drawl. “Turn around, mon Capitaine. Let me see all ze angles…”

  I sighed. “Do you ever stop?”

  I sealed the suit, ran a quick systems check, and headed down the access corridor. Ares lit my path with soft-blue overheads, pulsing toward the breach port like a countdown.

  Nyx followed, trailing behind like a cat with too much curiosity.

  “Shuttle is maintaining course,” Ares said in my ear. “Adjusting vector for intercept. I’ll ride just beneath their sensor ceiling, minimal profile, zero emissions.”

  “Only if they're awake and paranoid,” I muttered. “Let’s hope they’re neither.”

  By the time I reached the hatch, I was locked in, helmet ready, rifle magnetized to my back, nerves steady.

  The lights shifted to amber as the chamber pressurized with a low drone, suit HUD syncing to the ship’s external feed.

  Ares’ voice came cool and clear through my comm.

  “EMP primed. Directional burst in three… two… one.”

  The ship shuddered. Lights flickered. Ares handled the rest.

  “Guidance disabled,” he said. “Initiating forced dock. I have control of the shuttle's onboard AI. Hatch override in progress… now.”

  The corridor lights shifted green with a soft chime. The inner airlock cycled open, and I stepped into the breach tunnel, narrow, dim, the walls lined with reinforced mag-locks. I could feel the subtle vibration of the docking clamps latching onto the shuttle’s hull like a predator sinking its claws into prey.

  The outer hatch hissed.

  Beyond it, the shuttle’s interior lit up in sterile white. Compact, maybe fifteen meters nose to tail. Standard courier class, just enough room for four passengers and a pilot AI, though this run was solo. No frills. No comfort. Just rows of padded seats, a sealed cockpit door, and a faint hum from the gravity stabilizers.

  Officer Nellan was standing near the forward compartment, mid-stride, adjusting the strap on his utility bag. Late thirties, maybe early forties. Tired eyes, receding hairline, too clean to be field-experienced but too slouched to be fresh. Logistics grunt, through and through. He looked up at me in confusion, mouth parting like he might ask a question.

  I shot him mid-sentence.

  Fzzap.

  The stun charge hit center mass. His body spasmed once, then crumpled sideways between two seats, limbs tangled, bag slipping from his shoulder.

  “Target sedated,” I said, stepping inside fully.

  I nudged Nellan with a boot to be sure. Yep, he was out cold.

  “Confirmed,” Ares replied. “You've got nine minutes until scheduled entry window. If you miss it, they’ll flag the delay. Options get messy after that.”

  “Understood.” I slung the rifle and crouched.

  Nellan was heavier than he looked, dead weight in every sense of the phrase. I hoisted him under the arms, dragging him backward through the breach tunnel, feet scraping the deck. No time for grace.

  Back on the Valkyrion, I dumped him in the med bay’s stasis chamber, slapped a sedative patch on his neck for good measure, and stripped him down. His uniform came off easily. Modular layers, magnetic seals, encrypted access band built into the wrist cuff.

  I kept the ID badge, boots, wristband. Everything else went in a containment bag. No evidence left behind.

  “Vitals stable,” Ares said. “Sleep mode engaged. He’ll wake up confused, not dead. You’re welcome.”

  I stripped off my breach suit, still sweating from the exertion, and pulled on the Republic officer gear. It felt thin. Exposed. Like dressing up in someone else’s skin.

  Nyx appeared at the doorway, arms crossed. She tossed me a duffel. “Backup loadout. I packed your armor, short rifle, and three toys. Just in case.”

  Zara followed behind, helmet clipped to her hip. “You don’t need to go in alone.”

  I zipped the duffel and slung it over my shoulder. “I do.”

  Nyx stepped forward, eyes sharp now. “You might need support—“

  “I said no.” Sharper than I meant it. The words snapped off like a knife.

  They both froze.

  I took a breath. Regret already creeping in around the edges. “Look… this isn’t a two-gun op. It’s infiltration. Clean. Quiet. If I get burned, I need you both out here to cover exfil. Understood?”

  Zara gave a tight nod, though her jaw clenched. Nyx looked like she wanted to argue, then didn’t. She just stepped aside, lips pressed into a line.

  I moved fast, back through the corridor and into the shuttle again, duffel dropped behind the pilot console.

  “Ares?” I asked, strapping in.

  “AI override is locked. Flight path transmitted. You’re on rails now, Officer Nellan.”

  I exhaled. My hands were steady, but only just.

  “Then let’s do this.”