Page 81 of Claimed By the Wraiths

“I’m not going back.”

Ressh leaned back in his chair. Bronze moved slowly through his traceries. “Last time they owned my orders, Vain was on the other end of them. No.”

Thoryn put his hand flat on the table.

Palm down.

“No,” he said.

Deyric hadn’t looked up from his console. “They would put me in a fleet engineering bay.”

Serak waited.

“Twelve technicians. Standardized systems. Maintenance protocols written by committee.” Deyric tapped the console. “I rebuilt this ship’s sensor array with parts from three species and integrated the stealth systems myself. Nobody in a fleet bay would let me do that.”

“So that’s a no.”

“That’s a no to reinstatement and an insult to the Raptor.”

Solren folded his arms. “I’ve spent five weeks treating conditions their medical manuals don’t admit exist. I’m staying where the patients are.”

Zevik finished his protein bar.

Five sets of eyes turned toward him.

“What?”

“Your answer,” Solren said.

Zevik looked offended. “Have you seen what fleet governors do to an engine?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

The six original Rift Wraiths had answered the reinstatement question.

Alix, sitting beside Ressh, reached for the datapad and turned it so she could read the offer.

“That’s one decision,” she said. “The Raptor is another.”

Serak nodded.

“The Consortium can restore six old records,” she continued. “It doesn’t get to decide what this crew is now.”

Maris leaned back. “Good. Because I have supply routes, contacts, and three separate people who owe me favors after Nexus. I’m not handing any of that to a procurement office.”

Zevik wadded his wrapper and tossed it at the recycler.

Missed.

Solren looked at the wrapper.

Zevik looked at the wrapper.

“I’ll get it later.”

“You won’t.”