Seolin 2 shudders hard enough to rattle the rack room walls. The threshold still glows white, pinning the dark seam shut, while the vault door behind it gives a single wet, patient knock.
At the doorway, The Weapons Master hauls a vault component free, feeds it into the side housing, and twists it out of line. The seal stutters. Cold breath leaks through the crack.
On the operations deck feed, the tactical display blooms with a jagged predator ship. Above it, the Priest stays fused to the console, her eyes lit like pale coals, and the whole ship feels one blink away from striking.
Sabien steps in, forcing his bulk between the opening and the spill of dark. He clamps the threshold with one hand and drives the edge of the seal back into place.
The Weapons Master
Hold it there. If the vault line fails, the whole bay opens with it.
The white binding flares, then steadies. Far away, the ship's batteries begin to whine up to firing charge, aimed at the predator shape hanging on the tactical display.
The dark beyond the vault door presses once more, as if something inside has felt the ship taking aim. The threshold holds, but barely.