The safehouse light was low, shades drawn. A quiet hum from the filtration unit mixed with the faint pulse of the holo-table.
Sebastian stood over the display, arms folded, gaze steady.
The last node correction had gone clean. No bleed. No obvious tail.
But the trend was clear now — the tempo was rising. The fractures were accelerating. And so far, he was running it alone.
SAS-C's voice stayed level in his thoughts. "Risk factor increasing. Projection: node emergence curve steepening."
He exhaled through his nose. "Meaning I cannot keep pace solo."
"Confirmed."
He glanced over the gear laid out across the side table — a modest spread, bare-bones at best. The omni-tool was upgraded, shielding patched. A basic sidearm, unregistered. No armor to speak of beyond a reinforced jacket.
Not enough.
Even the flawed echoes had shown dangerous variance. And if he crossed paths with more than unstable fragments — if the real players started moving — this loadout would fold fast.
He keyed the console. Citadel arms inventory, grey-market taps, armor mods flagged from previous sweeps. Nothing high-profile — the idea was to stay quiet, not draw attention. But quality mattered now.
"SAS-C — crossmatch listings with performance reliability and concealability."
"Running." A pause, then: "Recommended priority — medium-impact kinetic sidearm. Flexible light armor with kinetic dampening. Reserve option: compact SMG for suppression if extraction required."
He nodded. "And shield upgrades?"
"Limited availability — patch level only. Stronger results would require field-salvage or custom commission."
Figures.
He shifted focus to the funding side — the credits from his last contract had padded his reserves, but not by much. Enough to cover essentials. Nothing extravagant.
Still — a baseline was better than scraping.
Decision made.
He started flagging selections — mid-tier armor with clean movement lines, no overt insignia. A solid sidearm with adaptable ammo port. A backup SMG stripped of serials, tight spread.
He confirmed the order for pickup through a blind courier node. Two cycles for delivery.
The start of a proper kit.
SAS-C added, "Recommend scheduling field validation once new gear is integrated. Combat readiness remains suboptimal."
A dry breath. "I am aware."
Movement training, biotic drills, live scenario runs — all overdue. He'd built the foundation — early hours in low-traffic concourses, sparring with drone routines. But it wasn't enough. Not for what was coming.
And not for whoever was watching the weave now.
He closed the display, stepping back.
The Citadel wasn't a clean board anymore. Too many pieces shifting. The fractured echoes were one problem — the larger force behind them, something else entirely.
He needed to be ready for both.
The first move was made.
More would follow.
---
The promenade levels carried their usual rhythms — merchants haggling, transit drones buzzing past, voices in a dozen languages weaving through the air. But beneath the noise, Serena moved with purpose.
She had waited long enough.
The last encounter had settled her doubts. She had seen him work — not reckless, not driven by impulse. The resonance was controlled, shaped. And it drew her curiosity deeper.
Now was the time to act.
She paced the upper concourse at a steady walk, her presence casual. No obvious tells. But every sense was tuned for the familiar thread of his presence.
It did not take long.
Across the open span, near the edge of a minor transport hub, she spotted him — standing at a quiet terminal, reviewing data. Alone, as before. No entourage, no visible guards.
That in itself spoke volumes.
She angled her approach with care, letting the flow of foot traffic mask her path. No sudden movement, no force. A hunter's patience — even here.
At the edge of the terminal, she slowed.
"Dalton."
The name landed light — not loud, but clear enough to cut through the background noise.
He turned, gaze meeting hers without surprise.
"Serena," he replied evenly.
The tone matched what she had sensed — composed, steady. No false posturing.
She allowed a faint tilt of her head. "I watched your work in the lower sectors."
No denial from him. No bluff. He simply waited.
Good.
She stepped in closer, voice low. "The fractures are spreading. Too fast for one to hold alone."
A simple truth. No agenda in the words.
He nodded once. "I know."
Silence hung for a breath. The space between them unhurried, measured.
Then she spoke again. "I'm not here to test you. Not here to claim you."
A faint glimmer of something — respect, perhaps — touched her tone.
"I am here because I see what is coming."
His gaze sharpened, but remained level. "And what do you see?"
She let the words land without haste. "A tide that will break the unprepared. A force that will twist or consume those without balance."
A pause. Then, plainly: "You move like one who knows this."
Another pause. "And I would not see you fall."
Simple as that.
No forced allegiance. No demand.
An offering.
He studied her in return, silent for a long moment.
Then — a nod. "It will take more than one."
The words were plain, honest.
An agreement — the first line of trust drawn.
Serena eased a breath. No need for grand declarations. The path ahead would test them soon enough.
For now, it was enough to have started.
---
The safehouse lights were dim when Serena stepped inside, closing the door with a quiet click. Sebastian stood at the holo-table, new equipment cases stacked beside him.
He glanced up as she entered — not surprised. He had left the access unlocked.
Without preamble, she moved closer, eyes passing over the gear.
"Better," she said simply. "But not enough."
He allowed a faint breath. "A start."
She nodded once, then looked him over — the lines of his stance, the set of his shoulders. Tension, controlled but present.
"How long since your last real fight?"
He met her gaze. "Too long."
No excuse, no bluff. The truth.
She stepped to the center of the space and dropped her satchel. With practiced motion, she unfastened her outer coat, revealing the light armor beneath — flexible, worn, but serviceable.
"If you mean to face what's coming," she said, voice even, "you will need more than a weapon."
A slow breath passed between them.
Then she tilted her head, a faint edge in her tone. "Show me what you have."
A simple challenge. Not posturing — an offer.
Sebastian didn't hesitate. He shed his jacket, adjusted his stance. No formal technique, but a clear awareness of balance. Movement grounded, not wild.
Serena circled slowly, measuring.
"Not raw," she observed. "But not trained."
He flexed his hands. "Building foundation. Gaps remain."
She stepped in. "Then let us begin."
The first exchange was light — testing ranges, gauging rhythm. Serena moved with controlled flow, her strikes precise, each motion teaching as much as challenging.
Sebastian adapted quickly — not flawless, but learning.
As the pace quickened, old reflexes surfaced — instinctive, but raw at the edges. He absorbed the corrections, breath steady, eyes sharp.
She caught the shifts — the way he read her angles, the way he adjusted to close vulnerabilities. It was not the learning of a novice. He moved like someone who had trained to learn — the kind of discipline few carried.
After a series of rapid passes, she stepped back, nodding.
"Not hopeless," she said, a faint curve to her lips. "You will learn."
He exhaled once, a small flicker of humor in return. "That is the goal."
She retrieved a small vial from her belt — pale biotic accelerants, low-dose.
"Tune your resonance next," she said. "Your body will follow."
He took it, considering — then nodded.
Across the next cycle, the room filled with low hums and focused breath — Sebastian tuning, pushing the faint blue flickers of biotic force into clearer shape. Control still uneven, but strengthening.
Serena watched with a hunter's eye. The flow around him was... unique. Not raw like a recruit, not patterned like a school-taught adept.
It was shaped — by something older. Something deeper.
She let the thought pass for now.
As the training slowed, Sebastian keyed the holo again — the node map expanding, fractures multiplying.
The scale was clear now — more echoes rising, more instability spreading.
He glanced to Serena. "This pace… we will be behind soon."
She answered without hesitation. "Then we move faster."
No false comfort. No denial.
The galaxy would not wait.
They would be ready.
---
The city lights burned low through the Citadel's outer ward canopy — streaks of cold white against deep metal shadows.
From a high ledge, a figure watched the lower transit sectors — lenses tracking patterns across foot traffic and drone paths.
No movement wasted. No signal random.
A thin pulse flickered through a concealed relay, far below primary networks.
The node it reached was buried deep, behind layers of old channels — a relic network only a few still touched.
In a silent chamber far from the wards, the relay's signal met cold eyes.
The Yahg watched.
The patterns across his intelligence web were shifting. Small at first — stray fluctuations, minor disruptions.
But the curve was rising.
An unseen actor.
Not yet a threat — but no longer invisible.
A low breath rumbled from deep in his throat.
It would be found.
And when the time came — crushed.
---
The courier alert came in mid-cycle.
A low-band ping, routed through blind nodes — the kind that did not leave a clear trail. Simple code, simple message:
Package ready. Sector B-57. Pickup window: three hours.
Sebastian stood over the holo-table, the message scrolling across the display. The timing was good — the earlier order had processed faster than expected.
But the window was narrow.
He keyed a quiet tone across the room. Serena looked up from where she was tuning her sidearm.
"Courier drop is in," he said. "Off-ward sector."
She rose with a nod, already pulling her coat into place.
"Then we move."
No hesitation. No second-guessing.
Good.
---
The B-57 exchange point sat beneath one of the older transit hubs — a place where the Citadel's gleam faded into hard-used metal and long-forgotten maintenance halls.
The right kind of place for a blind drop — and the right kind of place for trouble, if one was not careful.
Sebastian and Serena moved through the corridors at an unhurried pace. No fast steps, no nervous turns. Blending with the flow.
His senses stayed tuned — a quiet hum at the edge of perception.
SAS-C whispered in his thoughts. "Anomalous observation patterns: one, possibly two. No confirmed tail."
He let the data settle. No sharp response. Not yet.
Serena's eyes flicked across the crowd, sharp and steady.
"Someone's watching," she murmured. "Not close. But present."
He nodded once.
Expected. The more they moved in the open, the more likely they would be noticed — especially now.
But the pickup still mattered. Gear first. Then reassess.
They reached the sector's inner access ramp — a side stair down toward an old freight concourse. The crowds thinned here. Fewer workers, fewer watchers.
At the far end, a service locker stood flush against the wall — keyed with a disposable encrypt code.
Sebastian approached, one slow breath.
No alarms. No tripwire signals.
He keyed the code. The panel slid aside with a faint click.
Inside — the gear, neatly packed. Armor plates folded, sealed cases for the weapons, a tight-wrapped bandolier with the shield patches.
Clean work.
He retrieved the cases, handing one across to Serena without a word.
She took it easily, gaze scanning the shadows.
A low voice: "We should move."
He agreed. The less time spent here, the better.
---
The return route kept them off main levels — old freight corridors, transit bypasses. No signs of a tail, but the tension remained.
SAS-C confirmed: "Passive surveillance nodes elevated. Observation probability: increased."
Meaning — no active pursuit, but eyes were turning their way.
By the time they reached the safehouse, both moved with clear intent.
Sebastian keyed the inner lock, stepping inside. Serena followed, setting the gear case on the side table.
A moment of quiet passed.
Then she spoke — voice low, even. "They will move soon."
He nodded. "Yes."
No denial. No false comfort.
The fractures were spreading. The attention rising.
And the next steps would demand more.
They would be ready.