Page 22 of Azyr: Drifiting for Her

I looked at her, the woman I had just been inside, the woman who was already moving toward battle, and I felt the thing I had spent eight years running from. The love that was also fear. The belonging that meant loss was possible.

“I will find them,” I said. “I will map every route, every edit, every hand that touched these logs. And I will stay. I am not leaving you to face this alone.”

She looked at me, and I saw her hear it, the promise I was making, the unpacking I was committing to in words because I had not yet found the courage to do it with my case.

“You lied to your service,” she said. “The extensions. The anomalies.”

“Yes.”

“For me.”

“For you… for this. For…” I stopped, because the translator was still off, and I had no machine to hide behind, and the words were coming out wrong, coming out true. “The chance to be someone who stays.”

She was quiet for a long moment. The radiator gurgulated, decided again not to speak. Outside, Portland woke to another grey morning, and we stood in the office where she had built her terrarium, where I had learned to want permanence, and we looked at the evidence of a crime that had used her own care against her.

“Then stay,” she said finally. “Help me fix what I made. And when it’s done…” She stopped, and I saw her choose the risk, the leap she had spent four years refusing to counsel for herself. “When it’s done, we’ll see what we built instead.”

I reached for her hand. She let me take it. The blue rose in my fingers where they touched hers, visible, undeniable, and she saw it and did not look away.

“Eleven systems,” I said. “And I never found anything worth returning to. Until you.”

“That’s almost a feeling,” she said, the way she had in the dark, on the floor, when we were first learning each other.

“I will deny it under oath,” I said. “Unless the translator testifies.”

She laughed, cracked and exhausted and real, and I memorized the sound, laid it down in order with everything else I would carry, everything I would not forget. Then we turned back to the screen, and we began to work, and I felt the first true hope in eight years that I might finally have found a reason to stop moving.

CHAPTER 14

Astoria

The weight of expectation pressed on my chest as I stood in the austere Council chamber, staring at the men and women who would determine the fate of so many. They seemed just as impenetrable as the granite walls surrounding us, their expressions hardened into the routine indifference that defined bureaucracies. I fought to remain steady, to keep the courage boiling just beneath the surface as I prepared to unravel the lies woven deep into the fabric of my agency.

Beside me, Azyr remained a silent anchor, his presence grounding me in a storm of doubt and responsibility. I could feel the way his skin shifted in response to the energy in the room, pale blue at the edges, brightening the more focused I became on the task ahead. There was an unspoken bond between us, a shared commitment to confronting the darkness threatening to swallow our work whole. He did not need to speak; I felt his resolve.

As we moved deeper into the chamber, I caught sight of the rows of faces seated before us, each one a cog in the machinery that governed lives like Renata’s. My heart raced. Here, I had to speak truth to power, face those who had the authority to pull strings in the shadows. I breathed through the tension coiling in my gut and took my place at the podium, glancing down at the carefully prepared documents that outlined everything Azyr and I had uncovered the truth about the missing women, the trafficking corridors, the modified transit logs.

“We are here today to address a significant breach in the integrity of the Interstellar Departure Agency’s transit protocols,” I began, my voice steady yet tinged with urgency. “Recent findings have uncovered a pattern of irregularities that compromise our very mandate to protect those who are vulnerable. As you know, Renata should be on her way to a new life.“

But before I could finish, the chairman of the committee interjected. “And what of these irregularities, Officer Wellington? We must approach such accusations with the utmost care. Are we to take your word for it based on anecdotal evidence?”

The smirk on his face stung like an electric shock, but I pushed forward. “A pattern has emerged. Six women who should have traveled freely have instead faced unexplained transit delays. I urge you to consider this evidence.“ I laid out the facts before them, my hands trembling with a mix of fear and resolve. “It is not mere coincidence.”

With every piece of data, I could feel their eyes sharpen, some skeptical, others intrigued. I maintained the steady cadence of my voice, driven by an unseen force to expose the truths buried in bureaucracy. “In each case, there are missing waypoints,” I continued, gesturing to the illuminated display behind me that projected the grim data. “Every one of these anomalies leads back to one transit corridor, a place that connects directly to Ossari space.”

The murmurs of doubt morphed into whispers of concern, the seriousness of my claims settling in. Just as I thought I might break through their complacency, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure lingering near the back, a ghost from my past. My mentor, the architect of my own career, remained present, her expression unreadable.

Before I could address the sudden pit of dread clawing at my insides, she stepped forward, her voice soft yet sharp like a blade, “Astoria, you should tread carefully. I’ve seen firsthand how easily accusations can unravel if not fully substantiated.”

I faltered momentarily, her familiar authority flooding my thoughts, but I held my ground. “You taught me to value the truth above all, and this is the truth.” I pointed to the projections and back to the evidence Azyr and I had gathered, drawing their attention. “These women are my responsibility, and yours too. Are you truly willing to let another system fragment because of a single false report?”

She hesitated, the faintest flicker of conflict crossing her features, but the moment passed. “You cannot expect them to take your emotional concerns at face value.”

That flicker of doubt crystallized into something more sinister. This wasn’t about bureaucracy; it was personal. Each barrier she presented felt like a betrayal of the ideals she once stood for. “These women are not merely statistics in a file, they are lives! By failing to act, we relinquish our moral compass. We cannot let fear and complacency dictate our actions!”

With each line I threw into the churning mix of the room, I saw the eyes of the committee slowly awaken to the possibility of accountability. Yet just when hope began to bloom, I felt a shudder ripple through my spirit, my mentor, the one person who had always stood behind me, seemed to be hiding something. The shadows of doubt clouded my thoughts, whispering insidiously that this might be a greater fight than I’d ever anticipated.

As I took a breath to press on, a figure in the corner caught my attention, the name began to surface in my mind, something I knew, but it slipped away. I clenched my jaw against the tension rising in my throat.