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Copyright© 2026 by Sci-FiTy1972
Chapter 14: The Weight of Standing
The first warning did not come as an alarm. It came as absence.
Maya felt it before any system dared flag it—a thinning where noise should have been. Space was never truly quiet. Even vacuum carried interference: radiation hiss, particle drift, the constant static of reality brushing against itself.
This was different.
This was wrong.
“Something just disappeared,” she said quietly.
Darius turned from the display. “Disappeared how?”
“Not cloaked,” Maya replied. “Not hidden. Just ... misclassified. Like the universe decided it didn’t need to account for it.”
The Continuance adjusted orientation, its mass rolling slightly as passive sensors widened their aperture. No fleet signatures bloomed into view. No weapons spike. No recognizable transponder.
Just a single mass resolving out of background clutter where nothing had been moments before.
The vessel was dense. Asymmetrical. Built for brutality, not elegance. Its hull was scarred with reinforced protrusions and segmented apertures that suggested one purpose above all others.
Boarding.
The Royal AI completed its analysis, voice level and precise.
Classification: Unknown Raider Configuration Behavioral Match: Khar’eth Slaving Vessel (92.3%) Threat Profile: Extreme — Close-Quarters Engagement Intent Projection: Intercept / Capture
“They think we’re unprotected,” Jamal said.
Darius’s expression hardened. “Then we disabuse them of that notion.”
The Continuance did not break concealment.
It did not flare shields or announce itself.
It simply remained where it was—a fact the Khar’eth ship had not anticipated.
The raider accelerated hard, weapons cycling not toward annihilation but suppression. They wanted the hull intact. They always did. Ships like this were prizes—mysteries to be cracked open and sold piece by piece.
“Boarding vectors forming,” Aisha reported. “They’re confident.”
“Let them be,” Darius said. “All teams—gear up.”
Armor sealed around the crew in adaptive layers—close-fitting, responsive, alive with subtle reinforcement fields. It narrowed the strength gap.
It did not erase it.
Behind each ear, a faint warmth as the comm nodes bonded directly to skin and bone—silent, invisible, persistent. No startup tones. No test chatter.
Just presence.
Amina entered the armory last.
She did not wear a crown.
She did not need one.
The device she placed along her dominant brow settled seamlessly, almost decorative. Her vision shifted as overlays came online—heat, depth, motion, friendly signatures blooming at the edge of awareness.
She drew a slow breath.
“Now,” she said, calm as gravity, “we see.”
The impact came like a grab.
Magnetic clamps bit into the Continuance’s hull as the Khar’eth forced docking without invitation. The deck shuddered. Gravity dipped, then stabilized under automated correction.
“Boarding confirmed,” Marcus said. “Multiple breaches. They’re fast.”
“Contain and compartmentalize,” Darius ordered. “We hold ground. No pursuit.”
This was not a battle of ships.
It was a battle of corridors.
The first Khar’eth through the breach was massive—nearly eight feet of dense muscle and fur, eyes reflecting heat like an apex predator bred for dominance. It charged, expecting panic.
It met discipline.
Marcus absorbed the initial impact—armor screaming under the force that would have shattered an unprotected human frame. He staggered but stayed upright, returning fire point-blank and forcing the creature back just long enough for Elena to flank and Jamal to drop it with controlled precision.
“Down,” Marcus grunted. “Still alive.”
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