Chapter 6: What Comes First

Darius did not sleep after the briefing.

He stood at the view port long after Amina had stepped away, watching the stars hold their places as if nothing had changed—because for them, nothing had.

For him, everything had.

Power had a shape now. Not abstract. Not theoretical.

It had mass.

And mass attracted force.

He didn’t need the Royal AI to explain what would happen once Earth learned the truth. He had lived long enough inside systems of authority to know the pattern.

Governments did not react with panic.

Panic was inefficient.

They reacted with analysis.

With questions. With containment. With leverage.

And leverage always began with proximity.

Family.

The thought settled without drama, without fear.

Just recognition.

He exhaled slowly, grounding himself the way he always had; feet planted, shoulders square, breath measured. The same posture he’d used before patrols, before briefings, before moments that changed the direction of lives.

Amina approached quietly and stopped beside him, her presence gentle but precise.

“You’re thinking about home,” she said.

“Yes.”

She didn’t ask him to elaborate. She already understood the logic of it. Pacifist societies learned early that danger rarely announced itself loudly.

“When this becomes visible,” he said, “every power structure on Earth will justify doing whatever it thinks it needs to do. Not because they’re evil. Because they’ll be afraid of being irrelevant.”

Amina nodded once. “Fear turns institutions inward.”

“And inward pressure looks for weak points,” he continued. “Not to destroy. To control.”

She rested her hand lightly against his forearm—not restraining, just anchoring.

“My parents are old school,” he said. “They respect authority. They trust process. If someone official calls, they answer.”