Granted, he was almost certainly about to die under the Colossus’s fist, but compared to the crucibles of past chrono-cycles, which had felt like walking through the Cradle’s furnace, it still counted as progress.
Lily was alive, without serious external injuries. She wasn’t safe yet, but he knew his brothers would do everything to protect her and care for her if he fell. If he’d been given a choice, he would have spared her from watching his skull crushed in the Colossus’s grip. Life, however, had taught him long ago that it was cruel, brief, and could end without warning, which meant you clung to every small joy that gave meaning to this cracked shard of creation.
His joy, his reason for being, was Lily. Perhaps it was selfish, but he was grateful he’d been allowed one last glimpse of her before the end.
Khar and the Colossus seemed locked eye to eye. There was no escaping the machine, and no chance that an intelligence guided by strict logic would show mercy. The Colossus drew back the mechanical joint that served as its elbow, gathering force for the blow that would shatter Khar’s skull.
Khar no longer saw it.
He exhaled once, slowly, emptying the tension that had cinched his chest since Lily was taken.
The moment he noticed the Vitro was gone from its berth.
The shock of speaking with Vegrun and understanding that Horos was behind the abduction.
The realization that whatever he did might not be enough.
The Vitromium was too fast. Its stealth too refined for ordinary enforcement to corner it in time.
Every breath could put light-years between him and the only being who gave his life meaning. He did not even know if she was alive.
How could he trust a slow, bureaucratic safety net where you needed clearance just to undock a ship?
Khar did not give up. Ever.
Even now, he was building a plan. Vegrun could do as he pleased. Khar would not let this go.
He still had contacts in the Legion. More importantly, he had left himself a few practical back doors into systems normally locked to civilians.
With some luck, IMPERIUM probes might catch the Vitro’s trace the moment Horos made an error and miscalibrated the shield.
Khar was certain Horos had jammed all outbound signals, forcing the ship to fly manual. At some point he would tire. Lily would not help him; Khar would bet his horns on that. And the exhausted made mistakes.
All he needed now was a ship almost as fast as the Vitro. The station’s military recon skiff might stand a chance, though he was not sure. Worth trying. He could probably crack its systems.
Khar unfolded from his crouch and headed for the dock exit when Helios’s panel lights flickered.
“What in the void?” he muttered. “Did Lily leave me a trail?”
He sprinted to the ship. The hatch irised open and the standard greeting began, the one that welcomed any new administrator on their first step aboard after registration.
“Brilliant female,” Khar barked, elated.
Helios might be small, but it shared the Vitro’s core parameters. In this situation, Lily had given him the finest gift possible.
Hope.
Khar dashed back out and pried up one of the dock’s floor plates, revealing the small survival kit he had stashed there, weapons included. No time to run home for the rest; this would have to do. Paranoia versus reality, one to zero.
Back aboard Helios, the ship dumped its typical welcome cascade on him. He killed notifications one after another and sprinted to the main console. He did not yet know the vector, but he began undocking. Alerts kept stacking. He waved them away with growing impatience.
“Speak when you have an actual idea where to go. Until then, be quiet.”
Helios did not reply aloud, but a seemingly minor note appeared on the display.
Notice: a registered ship-linked device is out of range.
Missing device: VoidBrace wristband with command or senior access. Initiate locator?
