Red emergency strips wash the service bay in pulses. Nahuli’s ship hums alive behind the barricade, engines warm, exit route still sealed. On the far side of the junction lock, corporate boots echo closer, measured and patient.
The Station Clerk
They’ve got audit authority on paper and teeth in person. If you stay, they pin this on everyone in the bay.
The Mechanic
Power’s stable. I can keep her breathing, but not forever.
The Mechanic slaps the last panel shut and backs clear of the ramp. The clerk hovers near the service token reader, eyes flicking between the locked junction and the ship’s open throat. Outside, a loudspeaker starts to crackle with a corporate command to power down and submit.
Zoya
If they breach this bay, we make them pay for every step.
Serafina
Or we break orbit while they’re still arranging themselves.
Lahani is at the helm, ready. Ranuko has the diagnostics flickering across a side display, tracking lock status and clearance drift. The ship is moments from a clean launch or a very short, ugly arrest.
The path forward is open for one choice, thrust hard into the dark, or turn this standoff into a fight for the bay.