The station looked ordinary in a way that felt deliberate.
Its docking ring was clean, its traffic orderly, its approach lanes spaced with the kind of precision that suggested careful maintenance rather than neglect. Civilian vessels moved in wide, patient arcs as they queued for berths, cargo haulers drifting with the unhurried confidence of crews who expected no trouble and found none. Dock lights blinked in steady sequence, guiding ships in without interruption. No alarms sounded. No patrols tightened formation. Nothing about the scene announced danger.
That was the problem.
Glaive slid in on low thrust, matching the lazy curve of civilian traffic as if it had done this a hundred times before. Mikael's hands rested lightly on the controls, his movements smooth and unforced as he guided the ship into alignment with the assigned berth. The clamps engaged with a dull, heavy thud that reverberated through the hull, and the ship settled into place as power levels equalized across the docking interface. Everything about the process was correct.
Too correct.
"No lock delay," Mikael said quietly.
"That means they want us in," Thessa replied.
Jerad stood behind the pilot's seat, his posture relaxed, his attention fixed on the approach vector as it faded from the display. "Or they don't care," he said.
"Which is worse," Pethia muttered.
Damon was already checking the external feeds, his eyes tracking the station perimeter as the hatch began its pressure cycle. "Empire ships holding distance," he said. "Three of them. No movement."
"Not hiding either," Mikael added.
Jerad nodded once. "Observation posture."
The hatch hissed as pressure equalized, and station air filtered into the ship, dry and metallic, carrying the faint scent of recycled ozone and industrial lubricant. Jerad turned as the inner seal disengaged.
"Standard refuel," he said. "No deviations. No defensive posture."
"And if they board," Thessa asked.
"Then we let them," Jerad replied without hesitation.
Damon frowned. "That's not—"
"I know," Jerad said calmly. "But it's correct."
They moved through the station like people who belonged there, not hurried, not cautious, not scanning corners like prey. That was the point. The concourse beyond the dock was busy in the way mid-tier stations always were, full of transient crews and permanent vendors who pretended not to notice anyone they didn't have to. Merchants argued quietly over prices that would never change. Security walked visible routes at an unhurried pace meant to reassure rather than intimidate.
Empire insignia were present, but understated. A badge on a shoulder. A crest etched into a bulkhead. Authority implied rather than enforced.
Pethia handled the fuel contract with clipped efficiency while Mikael stayed with the ship. Damon drifted a few steps behind Jerad, his presence casual enough to seem unremarkable to anyone who didn't know what to look for. Thessa stayed close, her gaze sharp despite the effort she made to appear relaxed.
"I don't like this," Thessa said under her breath.
"You're not supposed to," Jerad replied.
The fuel tech worked quickly and without comment, running standard diagnostics and logging the transfer without asking a single unnecessary question. He didn't linger. He didn't probe. He didn't try to be helpful.
Which meant someone else already had the answers.
Jerad felt the change before he saw it, the subtle shift in motion that didn't belong. Security personnel adjusted their routes, not toward Glaive, but around it, forming loose arcs that redirected foot traffic without drawing attention. Civilian movement thinned just enough to create space.
A bubble.
Damon's hand flexed near his side. "Jerad."
"I know," Jerad said.
A man stepped out from behind a structural column.
He wasn't wearing a uniform, and that made him more dangerous than anyone who was. No insignia marked him. No visible weapon disrupted the clean lines of his dark clothing. His boots were polished, his hair cut short in a style that belonged nowhere and everywhere at once. He looked like someone who did not need to announce who he worked for.
Empire, without the flag.
He smiled politely as he approached.
"Captain," the man said. "May we speak."
Jerad met his eyes without slowing. "About what."
"Your ship," the man replied. "And why it's interesting."
Jerad stopped walking. "It isn't."
The man nodded, as if that were an expected answer. "That's what caught our attention."
Thessa shifted her weight. Damon stepped half a pace closer.
The man raised one hand, palm out, a gesture meant to project calm. "No need."
Two more figures appeared behind him, station security rather than Empire, but their posture was wrong. Too still. Too attentive.
"We're not here to detain you," the man said. "This is a conversation."
Jerad studied him, his expression unreadable. "Conversations usually involve choice."
"They do," the man said, his smile thinning slightly. "But not always equal ones."
Pethia snorted softly, the sound sharp in the controlled quiet of the concourse.
"We won't board your vessel," the man continued, "unless you give us a reason."
"And what reason would that be," Jerad asked.
"Dishonesty."
Jerad inclined his head a fraction. "Ask."
The man tilted his head, studying Jerad as if reassessing the balance he thought he held. "Your recent movements."
Jerad didn't answer.
"Erratic," the man went on. "Unnecessary. Yet carefully timed."
"Travel isn't illegal," Jerad said.
"No," the man agreed. "But patterns are informative."
That was when Pethia lost patience.
She stepped forward abruptly, her movement sharp enough to draw every eye in the immediate vicinity, and brought her pistol up in one smooth motion, leveling it directly at the man's face. The weapon hummed softly as it powered up, its muzzle steady despite the tension thrumming through the air.
"Drop the tone," she snapped. "Right now."
Station security froze.
The man's smile vanished.
Jerad didn't turn. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't reach for Pethia's weapon. "Easy," he said calmly. "She's making a point."
The man held very still, his gaze flicking briefly to the pistol before returning to Jerad. "This isn't necessary."
"Neither is your smugness," Pethia said. "But here we are."
Damon watched the perimeter. Thessa's breath was shallow, controlled.
Jerad spoke again, his voice even and unhurried. "You're not asking about cargo."
"No," the man said carefully. "We don't care about cargo."
"Then you're asking about people," Jerad said.
The hesitation was brief, but real.
"Yes," the man admitted.
"Be specific," Jerad said.
The man's jaw tightened. "A young male. Recently injured. Transported without record."
Silence settled heavily around them, the ambient noise of the station dulling as if the space itself had drawn inward to listen.
"He's a passenger," Jerad said.
"Passengers have names," the man replied.
"So do officers," Jerad said evenly.
The man's eyes hardened. "You're careful."
"I'm thorough," Jerad corrected.
A soft chime echoed through the concourse, not an alarm but something more subtle, a priority signal that carried authority without spectacle. The man's comm vibrated once at his wrist.
He glanced down.
Jerad watched the shift in his expression, not surprise, but confirmation.
The man looked back up. "It seems our timing is fortunate."
"For you," Jerad said.
"For everyone," the man replied. "Your associate just crossed a line."
"What line," Jerad asked.
The man didn't answer. He stepped back instead and gestured toward Glaive.
"We're going to ask you to remain docked," he said. "Temporarily."
"And if we refuse," Jerad asked.
The man's face went flat. "Then this stops being polite."
Outside the station, Empire ships adjusted position, not fast, not aggressively, just enough to change the geometry of the space around the dock.
Jerad turned his head slightly, meeting Damon's eyes.
Damon understood.
The man followed the look, and for the first time, uncertainty flickered across his face.
Deep inside Glaive, a system cycled.
Quiet.
Active.
Not meant to be used here.
Jerad faced the man again.
"No," he said.
The station lights dimmed, just enough to be noticeable.
And somewhere else in the system, something answered.