TSD: 3049-10-04 — Local: 08:17
Galatea, Galatea System — Continental Route 7 (Rest Point 1 / Roadside Cut Command Van)
The roadside cut looked peaceful from a distance.
Up close, it was a mess of exhaust haze, stressed voices, and the quiet fear that came after bullets—when everyone started replaying what almost happened.
Kel stood at the edge of the convoy's improvised perimeter, hands loose at his sides, eyes moving with slow purpose. The Zeus loomed behind him like a wall that had learned to walk. Heat vented from its housings in soft breaths, fogging the cold morning air.
He didn't look like the kind of man who'd just anchored an ambush response. He looked… calm. Collected. Unhurried.
That was the point.
Panic was contagious. So was control.
Mara climbed into the command van first, tablet under her arm, posture neat even in a cramped vehicle that smelled like cheap coffee and overheated electronics. A Vantrell security chief sat inside—broad-shouldered, older, with a jaw like a lock and the kind of tired eyes that meant he'd seen too many "routine" routes turn into funerals.
His name patch read HESS.
He looked at Kel with the guarded appraisal of a man deciding whether a nineteen-year-old merc was a liability or a miracle.
Kel stepped into the van without asking permission, ducking under the frame with effortless economy. He didn't loom. He didn't swagger.
He simply took up space like someone who was used to being obeyed.
"Chief Hess," Kel said.
Hess's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Harrow."
Kel nodded once. "Your people said this route was low-risk."
Hess's mouth tightened. "It was."
Kel's voice stayed even. "Then someone changed the risk."
Mara slid into a seat by the comm console, stylus poised, eyes already scanning data. She didn't look at Hess like he was a person. She looked at him like he was a system that could be mapped.
Hess leaned back, arms folding. "You think it was us."
"I think someone knew our window," Kel replied. Calm. Not accusing. Just stating the fact that mattered. "That chip said package window confirmed."
Hess's eyes flicked once—barely. A microreaction.
Mara caught it.
Kel caught it too.
Kel continued, "I want a list. Everyone who had our departure time before wheels rolled. Every driver, every security lead, every dispatcher."
Hess let out a breath through his nose. "That's internal."
Kel's gaze didn't change. "We're your escort. We got shot at. It's not internal anymore."
The silence held for a beat.
Hess studied Kel's face like he was searching for arrogance and coming up empty. Kel's calm wasn't a performance. It wasn't a challenge. It was a fact.
Hess finally nodded once. "Fine. Dispatch, security wing, route controller. That's it."
Mara's stylus tapped once. "Names."
Hess glanced at her like he didn't enjoy being commanded by a young woman in rolled sleeves. Mara didn't care whether he enjoyed it.
He rattled off names. Mara wrote them down without missing a syllable.
Kel asked, "Any one of them new? Any one of them in debt? Any one of them with a gambling habit you pretend not to see?"
Hess's jaw tightened again. "You're asking me if my people are corrupt."
"I'm asking you if they're human," Kel said.
That landed differently. Not cruel. Not soft. Real.
Hess looked away for half a second. "Route controller's new," he admitted. "Transferred in last month."
Mara's eyes narrowed. "Name."
"Dallon Frey."
Mara repeated it quietly, like she was filing it into a blade.
Kel nodded once. "Good. We start there."
Hess frowned. "Start?"
Kel's voice stayed level. "We're finishing the contract. If you want your cargo and your people alive, you let us investigate while we move."
Mara finally looked up, eyes sharp. "And you stop broadcasting timings like it's a public service."
Hess bristled. "We need coordination."
Mara didn't raise her voice. She didn't smile either. "You can coordinate without handing a raider band a watch and a map."
Kel held Hess's gaze. "We do this my way for the next two rest points."
Hess exhaled slowly. Then nodded—one professional to another, no matter the age difference. "Fine," he said. "Your way."
Kel didn't celebrate. He simply moved on.
"Give me Frey's last thirty days of route adjustments," Kel said. "And a copy of the convoy manifest."
Hess frowned deeper. "That's—"
Kel's tone remained polite. "Required."
Hess stared at him, then shook his head once, almost amused. "You're not rude," he said. "You're just… inevitable."
Kel didn't respond to that. He turned slightly toward Mara.
"Mara," he said.
She straightened as if her name had weight. "Yes."
"Build me a trap," Kel said. "Something clean."
Mara's throat moved. She nodded once. "I already am."
---
TSD: 3049-10-04 — Local: 08:42
Galatea, Galatea System — Continental Route 7 (Rest Point 1 / Perimeter)
Outside the van, the convoy lived in controlled motion.
Tessa was under the Zeus again, hair changed—this time in a tight low ponytail with a bandana wrapped over the top, keeping sweat and strands from her eyes. She'd pulled her coveralls down to her waist again, upper half knotted, tank clinging to her from the effort. She didn't look up when Kel approached; she felt him.
"You're walking on my actuator," she said without looking. "Not your best habit."
Kel stopped just outside her working radius. "Status."
Tessa rolled out on her creeper board, sat up, and wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist, leaving a faint gray smear. "It'll hold," she said. Then added, softer and more professional, "As long as you keep doing what you did. Smooth. Controlled."
Kel nodded once. "Good work."
Tessa opened her mouth like she didn't know what to do with that sentence, then closed it again and ducked back under the Zeus's leg like it was safer than conversation.
Kel let her have the safety.
Elin moved along the vehicles checking on the wounded driver and two security men with minor burns. Her motions were steady, efficient. Today she'd braided her hair again—tight and practical—because she'd decided she didn't like loose ends during a bad day. She didn't flirt. She didn't soften. She did her job like a promise.
Sienna was on the ridgeline with her Valkyrie, scanning the terrain. She'd swapped her ponytail into a messy half-bun, hair escaping because she kept running her hands through it when she was thinking. She looked restless, but she was holding her flank discipline like Kel had ordered.
Kel watched them all for a moment, then returned to the only thing that mattered more than comfort.
The problem.
---
TSD: 3049-10-04 — Local: 09:09
Galatea, Galatea System — Continental Route 7 (Command Van / Comms Console)
Mara had taken over half the comm console like it was her natural habitat.
She'd stripped it down to essentials: route logs, security net, convoy internal channels, and a tight record of who touched what and when. Her sleeves were still rolled. Her braid had loosened slightly—one small strand escaping near her cheek. She kept tucking it behind her ear without seeming to notice.
Kel stood behind her, angled so she had space and he had visibility.
Mara spoke without looking up. "Frey adjusted our 'package window' thirty minutes before departure," she said. "Claimed it was to avoid a 'maintenance zone.' There is no maintenance zone."
Kel's voice stayed calm. "He lied."
Mara nodded once. "Or he was told to lie."
Hess leaned over the console, frowning at the screen. "That route controller doesn't have the authority to change timing without—"
Mara cut him off, still polite. "Without someone higher approving it. Yes. That's what makes it interesting."
Kel watched the logs. He didn't need Mara to explain the shape of the trap forming in her mind—he could see it in the way she started categorizing information into clean blocks.
"Here's the trap," Mara said quietly. "We create two false windows. Two different 'updated' schedules. We give one to Frey. One to someone else on your list. If raiders hit one of those windows, we know which mouth spoke."
Hess frowned. "That's dangerous."
Kel answered, even and firm. "It's controlled."
Mara looked up at Kel for a second—just a second—and her expression shifted like she'd been about to say something else and swallowed it.
Then she returned to the console. "I can do it," she said. "But I need you to commit to it."
Kel didn't hesitate. "Do it."
Hess stared between them. "You're really going to—"
Kel's gaze settled on him, calm enough to make arguing feel childish. "Chief Hess. You can either lose cargo slowly over the next month, or you can catch the leak today."
Hess's shoulders sank. "Fine," he muttered. "Catch it."
Mara started typing.
Kel watched her hands.
Not in the way that made it obvious. Not like a boy gawking. More like he respected the precision—how her fingers moved with the same discipline he used in the cockpit. There was something intimate about competence when you lived in danger.
Mara felt his attention anyway. Her fingers stuttered for a fraction of a second.
She recovered instantly.
But the faint color that rose in her cheeks didn't belong to the screens.
Kel didn't press it. He didn't smirk. He didn't make it a thing.
Dominance wasn't taking what wasn't offered.
It was giving space while holding the line.
Mara cleared her throat quietly. "Okay," she said. "False schedule A goes to Frey. False schedule B goes to dispatch. Only their terminals get the update. If it leaks, it leaks from them."
Kel nodded once. "Good."
Hess glanced at Mara, then at Kel. "You two always work like this?"
Mara answered before Kel could. "No," she said. Then, after a beat, "We're learning."
Her voice was steady, but the words hung in the air in a way that made Kel's attention sharpen.
Kel looked at her. "We'll keep learning," he said simply.
Mara's eyes flicked to his, then away quickly—like she'd forgotten how eye contact worked outside negotiations.
She returned to her screen and said briskly, "We roll again in twenty minutes. I'll monitor for any outgoing bursts. If Frey transmits to anyone… I'll see it."
Kel's voice stayed low and calm. "You tell me the moment you do."
Mara nodded, and her hand tightened slightly on the stylus as if the responsibility was heavier than she expected.
---
TSD: 3049-10-04 — Local: 11:36
Galatea, Galatea System — Continental Route 7 (Rolling / Mid-Convoy Comms Net)
They rolled.
The convoy moved like a disciplined animal now—tighter spacing, better overwatch, fewer open channels. Kel kept the Zeus in a steady anchor position, steps controlled to spare the actuator. Sienna held the left flank exactly as ordered. Elin stayed with the med vehicle, quiet and ready. Tessa monitored the Zeus's readings like she was listening to a heartbeat.
Mara's voice stayed calm over comms. "No leaks yet."
Kel replied with minimal words. "Good."
Minutes passed.
Then Mara spoke again, tone unchanged—but something in it tightened. "Kel."
He answered instantly, still calm. "Speak."
"I have a burst," Mara said. "Short-range directional. Origin: route controller terminal. Frey."
Kel's eyes narrowed slightly inside the cockpit. "Destination?"
Mara hesitated—just a fraction. "Not on Vantrell net."
Hess's voice came in, suddenly sharp. "Who is it?"
Mara's answer was quiet, controlled. "Unknown. Unregistered relay receiver. But I got the waveform signature."
Kel didn't shout. He didn't curse.
He simply said, "Copy. We don't stop the convoy. Mara—save it. Hess—quietly pull Frey at rest point two. No alarms. No drama."
Hess sounded tense. "And if he runs?"
Kel's reply was flat, confident. "He won't."
He didn't explain how he knew.
Because dominance was sometimes just certainty made real.
---
TSD: 3049-10-04 — Local: 13:08
Galatea, Galatea System — Continental Route 7 (Rest Point 2 / Service Yard Annex)
Rest point two was larger—a service yard with fuel pumps, repair rigs, and prefab offices. Convoy vehicles filed in, tight and orderly.
Hess's security team moved like they were just doing routine checks. No raised voices. No guns drawn. No public humiliation.
Kel stayed with the Zeus, watching lanes and shadows.
Mara walked up beside him, tablet hugged close to her chest. She'd added a light jacket against the wind, but it was unzipped—like she'd forgotten to close it. Her braid had come looser again, a few strands framing her face. She looked… focused. And under that, a little shaken.
"Hess has Frey," she said quietly. "In an office. He didn't fight."
Kel's voice stayed calm. "Good. You have the signature?"
Mara nodded. "Saved. Backed up twice."
Kel's gaze settled on her. "You did well."
Mara's breath caught—the smallest inhale, like her body didn't know where to put the compliment. Her eyes flicked down, then back up, then away again. The awkwardness wasn't cute on purpose. It was real.
"I… thanks," she said, too quick. Then added, trying to return to safe territory, "We can trace the receiver if we get a second burst."
Kel didn't let her hide completely, but he didn't push too hard either.
He said, evenly, "You don't have to be perfect. Just honest."
Mara's fingers tightened on her tablet case. She stared at the yard for a second as if the machinery would give her the right words.
Then she said, very quietly, "I'm not used to… this."
Kel kept his posture relaxed, voice low. "What part."
Mara's cheeks warmed. She looked at him for half a heartbeat—then looked away again, like eye contact was suddenly dangerous.
"The part where someone notices me," she admitted. "Outside of work." A pause. "I've never—" She stopped. Swallowed. "I've never been in a relationship."
Kel didn't react with surprise. He didn't tease. He didn't let the moment become a spectacle.
He simply said, calm and steady, "That's fine."
Mara's shoulders loosened slightly, like she'd been bracing for judgment.
Kel continued, voice quiet enough that it felt private even in the open air. "We go slow. If anything ever feels unclear, you tell me. I won't guess."
Mara blinked, throat moving. The relief on her face was subtle but real—like someone had finally given her a rule set she could follow.
"Okay," she whispered.
Kel nodded once. "Okay."
A beat passed—long enough to feel the wind.
Then Mara stepped back a fraction, clutching her tablet like armor again, and her professional voice returned. "I should—check on the interrogation."
Kel didn't stop her. "Do it."
Mara turned and walked toward the prefab office with controlled steps that were just slightly too fast—like she was escaping the feeling of being seen.
Kel watched her go, face unreadable.
Then he turned his attention back to the convoy.
Because the universe didn't pause for tender moments.
And someone out there had called his convoy a package.
They'd just found the first mouth that spoke.
Now they had to find the hand that paid.