Page 20

H e paced the maintenance corridor, boot heels tapping a frustrated rhythm against metal grating, and checked his chronometer for the third time. Jesh was late, and the crew meeting would start soon. He needed answers before facing Rann.

He flexed his hands, watching tendons shift beneath his skin. Last night in the observation lounge flashed through his mind. The memory of Mira beneath him, her soft gasps as his fingers and mouth... He shook his head. Not now. That particular memory wasn't helping his focus or his physical state.

Five minutes until the crew briefing. Time was running out.

His head snapped up at the approaching footsteps. They were too measured for most of the crew and too steady for Mira's quicker stride. Jesh.

She rounded the corner with the precise grace of cybernetic enhancement, nodding as she saw him.

He nodded, not bothering with pleasantries. "Find anything?"

"You've changed since earlier," she said instead, her gaze sweeping him from head to toe. "Height increased by one point six centimeters."

"That's not what I asked," he said, impatience edging his voice.

Her lips quirked slightly. "Irritability is also elevated. Interesting."

"Jesh," he ground out her name like a warning.

She made a small gesture of surrender and reached for the datapad tucked into her utility belt. "I analyzed the combat footage. I think you may be right."

His heart rate spiked. "Show me."

She activated the pad, blue holographic light spilling across the narrow space. "I cross-referenced Rann's combat techniques against known fighting styles. The results are somewhat concerning."

She expanded a section of footage, zeroing in on Rann during the firefight. Frame by frame, she broke down his movements. Everything from Rann's stance to the wrist angle as he handled the captured M'Suun weapon, and even his counterattacks.

"This technique," she said, freezing on Rann's spinning kick followed by an upward strike, "is exclusive to M'Suun elite forces. This isn't improvised. This is trained muscle memory."

She swiped to another clip. "Note his finger positioning on the weapon's secondary regulator. I checked. That's a location specific to M'Suun clan weapons. No outsider would instinctively know this."

Davis felt vindicated. His gut hadn't been wrong after all.

"There's more." She played another clip, enhanced and slowed. As the M'Suun attackers first emerged, Rann's posture shifted. It was subtle but unmistakable. Recognition.

"He knew exactly who they were," Davis said, jaw tightening. "Not just Imperial. He knew they were M'Suun."

"Correct. The correlation with M'Suun combat techniques is ninety-three percent."

His fingers curled into fists. "Son of a bitch."

"His familiarity does suggest direct training," Jesh confirmed. "He is either M'Suun or they trained him. A DNA test would determine which."

The confirmation sent fresh heat through his veins. Rann had been hiding something all along, potentially putting everyone at risk.

Putting Mira at risk.

Shit. She'd already survived Rettnor. The idea of Rann's deception endangering her made something primal stir beneath his ribs.

"Davis." Jesh's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. "What's your plan?"

He looked up, already mapping confrontation scenarios in his head. "I'm going to make him talk."

"Consider a tactical approach," she cautioned. "Questions before accusations will yield more information."

"For hiding M'Suun training? For recognizing our attackers and saying nothing?" He gave a sharp, humorless laugh.

"I'm suggesting restraint." She tilted her head and looked directly at him. "Ryke trusts him completely."

The corridor alarm chimed. Two minutes to the crew meeting.

Davis felt a flicker of doubt. Would confronting Rann fracture the crew beyond repair? His tactical mind weighed crew cohesion against the risk of Rann's hidden agenda.

But the image of Mira in danger bulldozed all hesitation.

"Let's go," he said, already moving. "Time to crash this little party."

The crew meeting room buzzed with activity as Davis strode in, Jesh a step behind. His gaze swept the space automatically, cataloging positions and threats.

Anson hunched over his datapad. Covak sprawled in a reinforced chair, looking like a mountain trying to get comfortable on a molehill. Ryke stood at the head of the table, expression shifting from neutral to suspicious as he tracked Davis's entrance.

There. Rann. Looking calm and collected by the tactical display.

Davis's focus immediately shifted to Mira without conscious effort.

She sat near the far wall, Spot curled at her feet like a little mechanical guard dog.

Her hair was pulled back in that messy bun that exposed the curve of her neck.

His fist curled at his side as he remembered tracing the line of her neck with his lips last night.

Their eyes met across the room. Something electric passed between them, but then her gaze dropped to his clenched fists, then back to his face, wariness entering her expression.

He positioned himself between her and Rann without thinking about it. It felt right, putting himself as a barrier between her and the pilot.

"Now that we're all here," Ryke began, his deep voice commanding immediate attention, "let's start with ship status. Anson reports the secondary shield generators at ninety-three percent after repairs. Jex has plotted our course to the Leranian sector. Estimated arrival in thirty-six hours."

Davis barely heard him, his focus locked on Rann. Now that he was watching the guy, he caught details he'd missed before. The Imperial military posture, the combat-ready stance that never fully relaxed. All hiding in plain sight.

"Fuel reserves at seventy-eight percent," Ryke continued. "Ammunition stocks -"

"He's lying to us," Davis said, his words slicing through the briefing.

The room went silent as everyone turned toward him.

Ryke's eyes narrowed. "Explain yourself, Tell."

Davis kept his gaze on Rann. "Ask him about the M'Suun. Ask him why he fights exactly like they do. Why does he handle their weapons like he was born with one in his hand?"

Rann frowned, and his posture shifted, weight transferring to the balls of his feet. "What are you talking about?"

"Davis," Ryke warned, "if you have concerns, there are protocols -"

"No more protocols," Davis said, taking a step forward. "We've been shot at twice in as many weeks, and you expect us to believe it's random? That bounty hunters just happened to use specialized M'Suun techniques that Rann here mirrors perfectly?"

Rann's expression hardened, but something flickered behind his eyes.

"The male's compromised," Rann said to Ryke, gesturing toward Davis. "We all saw what happened in the galley. Whatever that weapon did to him is affecting his judgment."

Davis felt his temperature spike, blood roaring in his ears. "Jesh, show them."

Jesh stepped forward, calm amid the rising tension. "I've analyzed the combat footage from both encounters," she said, activating her datapad.

The holographic display expanded above the table, showing split-screen comparisons of Rann's movements against the M'Suun attackers. "The correlation between Rann's techniques and M'Suun elite training is ninety-three percent. That's not a coincidence."

The crew watched in silence as the evidence played out the hand positions, the footwork, the weapon familiarity.

"Also," she concluded, "Rann's reaction upon first visual contact with the M'Suun indicates prior recognition."

All eyes turned to Rann.

"You knew exactly who they were," Davis pressed, moving closer.

Heat surged through his body, muscles burning with something that felt like power injected straight into his veins.

"You knew, and you said nothing. Every time they've attacked us, you've known their moves before they made them.

That's not adaptation. That's insider knowledge. "

His voice dropped. "What are you hiding, Rann?"

The room seemed to shrink around them.

"You're putting everyone at risk," Davis continued, closing in. "Putting Mira at risk."

Her name triggered something inside him like a detonator. Fire raced along his nerves, his vision sharpening until he could count the pores on Rann's face. His muscles burned, strength surging in waves.

"Davis."

Mira's voice cut through the haze. From the corner of his eye, he saw her half-rise, one hand reaching toward him. Concern mixed with something deeper in her expression.

But it wasn't enough to ground him. Not when Rann still stood there, hiding shit.

The pilot's gaze flicked around the room before settling on Ryke, and something passed between them. Rann's shoulders slumped.

"Tell is right," he said finally. "I do know more about the M'Suun than I've shared."

Vindication surged through Davis, feeding the fire beneath his skin.

"Years ago," Rann continued, "I discovered something disturbing. My clan, a branch of the M'Suun, was conducting unauthorized experiments."

Davis's pulse hammered in his ears like a countdown to detonation.

"They claimed to have discovered a lost group of stunted Latharians in deep space," Rann said. "Genetic anomalies that needed studying. But that wasn't the truth." His expression darkened. "At the time I didn't know, but now I realize they weren't Latharian at all."

"What were they?" Mira asked, creeping forward.

Rann's gaze shifted to her, then back to Ryke. "I think they were humans. Probably deep space explorers. My clan saw an opportunity. A genetically compatible species with lower physical capabilities made the perfect test subjects."

The revelation hit him. His control started slipping, rage building with each word.

"You knew," he snarled, taking another step forward, sweat beading on his forehead. "You knew they were experimenting on humans, and you didn't think that was relevant when they were hunting us down?"