Rjmar straightened. “What kind of problem?”
“Grorn. A whole squad of them, just docked at the main port. They’re conducting searches.”
His claws sprang free before he could stop them.
“How long ago?” he demanded.
“Twenty minutes, maybe thirty. They’re moving fast, hitting all the private bays first.” The Tethrani wrung her hands, her tail lashing with anxiety. “They’re looking for something specific.”
He was already moving toward the door.
“Wait a minute.” Rjmar’s voice cut through his panic.
“I have to go. Emma’s alone on that ship?—”
“And she’ll stay alone if you get yourself killed trying to reach her.” The Hothian huge hand clamped down on his arm. “Think, Doren. Use that brain I know you have. What’s the fastest route to your docking bay that avoids the main corridors?”
He forced himself to stop and think. The panic was still there, clawing at his chest, but he shoved it down.
“The maintenance tunnels,” he said slowly. “They run parallel to the main corridors. I can cut through sector seven and come in from the rear.”
“Good. Take these.” Rjmar added a portable biometric scanner and a handful of identity chips to the satchel. “It’s not everything, but it’s enough to get you started. I’ll have the rest ready when you can safely return.”
“If I can safely return.”
“You will.” The Hothian’s voice held absolute certainty. “You’re too stubborn to let the Grorn take you.”
He managed a weak smile. “Your faith in me is touching.”
“It’s not faith. It’s experience.” Rjmar turned back to his workbench and pulled open a concealed drawer. “One more thing.”
He withdrew a small object wrapped in faded cloth and unwrapped it to reveal a metallic disc about the size of his palm, covered in intricate engravings that seemed to shift and move in the light.
“What is that?”
“I found it on Hothrest, several years ago.” Rjmar held it out, his expression unreadable. “Based on my research it’s old—perhaps even older than the Hothian civilization. And the symbols on its surface...”
He took the disc, turning it over in his hands. The engravings were unlike anything he’d ever seen—geometric patterns that seemed to pulse with their own inner light, forming shapes that hurt his eyes if he stared at them too long.
“The symbols match descriptions I’ve read of precursor technology,” Rjmar added quietly.
“Associated with the Vault?”
“Perhaps. I don’t know what it does or how it works. But if you’re tangled up with the Grorn and their crusade...” The Hothian shrugged his massive shoulders. “It seemed like the right time to pass it along.”
He stared at the disc, his mind racing. The Vault. The Keys. The silver-skinned baby sleeping peacefully in Emma’s arms. And now this—an artifact that might be connected to all of it.
“Why give this to me?”
“Because you’re the only person I trust to use it wisely,” Rjmar said gruffly. “And because whatever’s coming, whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, you’re going to need every advantage you can get.”
The Tethrani assistant shifted nervously. “Boss, the Grorn?—”
“I know.” Doren wrapped the disc in its cloth and tucked it into an inner pocket of his cloak. “Rjmar, I?—”
“Go.” The Hothian waved him off. “Save the sentimentality for when you’re not running for your life. And Doren—” He paused, something soft flickering across his weathered features. “Be careful with that human of yours. The galaxy has a way of taking the things we care about.”
He gave a quick nod, and then he was gone.
