The ship never fully settled after the jump.
The lights stayed steady. The engines held their tone. But something underneath it all felt wrong, like a vibration you only noticed when you stopped paying attention to everything else.
Aludin noticed it almost immediately.
He sat on a storage crate near the wall, feet planted, palms resting on his knees. The hum pressed against his ears in a way that didn't hurt, exactly it just wouldn't let him forget it was there.
He shifted slightly.
The floor answered with a faint tremor.
Damon, crouched nearby pretending to check a panel, glanced over. "Still feeling sick?"
Aludin shook his head. "No."
He hesitated, then added, "The ship feels… tilted."
Damon frowned, listening. He pressed his palm flat against the wall.
"It's straight," he said after a moment. "Might just be your balance catching up."
Aludin nodded, but the feeling didn't go away.
Minutes passed in a quiet that felt stretched thin.
Mikael broke it.
"Passive ping," he said.
Pethia lifted her head from where she was braced near the bulkhead. "From where."
"Behind us," Mikael replied. "Long range. Low power."
Jerad stepped closer to the cockpit. "Active?"
"No," Mikael said. "Someone's trying not to be seen."
Aludin's stomach tightened.
The pressure behind his eyes stirred, not sharp, not painful, just present. He curled his fingers into the fabric of his pants and focused on breathing slow.
Pethia crossed the room and leaned over Mikael's shoulder. "Can you get a shape?"
"Working on it."
The display flickered.
A faint outline resolved on the screen.
Angular. Narrow. Too clean.
Aludin's chest dropped before anyone spoke.
"That's not a trader," Damon said quietly.
"No," Pethia replied. "It isn't."
Jerad didn't swear. He didn't raise his voice.
"Shields," he said.
Mikael's fingers moved.
The pressure in Aludin's head deepened, like something pressing outward from the inside. He shifted on the crate, feet sliding slightly across the floor.
Damon noticed.
"You good?" he asked under his breath.
Aludin swallowed. "I think so."
The ship behind them surged forward on the display.
"Closing fast," Mikael said.
The first shot hit before the shields finished charging.
The impact tore through the hull like a blunt punch. Aludin was thrown sideways. The crate tipped. He hit the floor hard, the breath driven out of him in a sharp, helpless gasp.
Metal groaned overhead.
"Shields at sixty!" Thessa called from the rear, already strapped in.
Jerad didn't hesitate. "Return fire."
The ship bucked as Thessa fired. Aludin curled instinctively, arms over his head, heart hammering.
The pressure spiked.
Not pain. Pressure. Thick and heavy, like his head was full of water.
"Multiple contacts," Mikael said. "Two escorts breaking formation."
Pethia swore under her breath.
Aludin squeezed his eyes shut.
Another shot came.
It missed.
Not grazed. Not deflected.
Missed.
Mikael frowned. "That"
A second shot missed. Wide.
Thessa fired again. One of the escorts took the hit and spun away, shedding debris.
"That's not right," Damon said.
The pressure in Aludin's head surged harder. His hands dug into the floor without him realizing it. His teeth clenched. The hum filled his ears, louder than the engines.
The Empire ship adjusted its angle.
It overcorrected.
The pressure peaked.
Aludin gasped.
The ship lurched, not from a hit, but like the space around it had shifted. The Empire vessel scraped against debris that hadn't been there a moment before, sparks flaring along its hull.
"I didn't fire," Thessa said.
"No one did," Pethia replied.
The damaged escort broke apart completely.
The remaining Empire ship hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then it fired again.
The shot skimmed past Glaive's hull, close enough to rattle the plating, but still missed.
Jerad turned.
His eyes locked on Aludin.
The boy was curled on the floor, shaking, breath coming in short, uneven pulls. His hands were splayed against the metal like he was holding himself in place.
"Aludin," Jerad said.
No response.
Damon was already moving, kneeling beside him. "Hey. Look at me."
Aludin's eyes were open, unfocused.
"I don't want this," he said, voice strained. "I just want it to stop."
The hum rose higher, almost whining now.
The Empire ship veered hard, engines flaring as it tried to pull away.
It didn't make it.
Thessa fired once more.
The shot hit clean.
The Empire ship went dark, not exploding, just losing power, and began to drift.
Silence fell hard.
The hum dropped back to normal.
Aludin collapsed onto his side, gasping, the pressure draining away and leaving him hollow and numb.
"They're pulling back," Mikael said after a moment. "Last contact disengaged."
No one celebrated.
Pethia lowered her weapon slowly. "That wasn't skill."
"No," Jerad agreed.
Mikael tapped at the console. "I caught part of a transmission before they cut out."
He replayed it.
Static. Then a clipped, strained voice:
"…shots missing… target evading… confirm Glaive class vessel… repeat, Gla"
The audio cut.
The word hung there.
Aludin pushed himself up on one elbow. His head throbbed. "What's Glaive."
Pethia exhaled sharply. "Us."
Jerad's jaw tightened.
"They know who we are," Mikael said. "They just don't know what happened."
Jerad looked down at Aludin.
The boy looked back, eyes wide, scared, searching.
Neither of them spoke.
"Get us moving," Jerad said finally. "Quiet. No straight lines."
Mikael complied.
The ship turned slowly, slipping back into the dark, this time not drifting, but fleeing, leaving wreckage and unanswered questions behind.
And this time, no one pretended it was over.