Commander Meus paced the Grokkies command center, checking the chronometer for the third time in ten minutes. Six hours since Raven's last check-in. Not technically overdue, but close enough to make her uneasy.
The screens showed nothing but empty space where his ships should be. HD207 was too far for real-time monitoring, and the mineral content in the planet's crust interfered with long-range scans.
"Anything?" she asked the Grokkies communications officer.
"Nothing, Commander." The reptilian's scales shifted to apologetic blue. "The interference is—"
"I know." She cut him off, more sharply than intended. "Keep trying."
This was exactly why she'd argued against splitting up. Raven might be a tactical genius, but he had a talent for finding trouble. Or maybe trouble had a talent for finding him.
"Worried about your captain?"
Meus didn't turn. She'd recognize that slightly mocking voice anywhere. "Princess. What can I do for you?"
Lyra glided into view, wearing something that definitely wasn't military regulation—flowing silks in Zephyrian royal colors that somehow managed to be both modest and provocative.
"Baby girl," Lyra purred, "hope you're good."
Meus paused, bristling at the familiarity. "Princess, what do you want?"
"I came here to talk," Lyra said, perching on the edge of a console. "I'm bored, and without Raven here, it's dreadfully dull."
"Play some games or make a video call with your friends," Meus suggested, turning back to the monitors.
"I'd rather discuss something serious." Lyra's tone shifted, the playfulness dropping away. "Raven is strange recently. I mean, why did he leave Rodriguez with him?"
Meus's instincts sharpened. The princess rarely asked direct questions without purpose.
"I bet he has plans," she replied carefully. "He's worried about his uncle."
"Marcus?" Lyra laughed, "Oh, that's precious."
"What?" Meus turned fully now, studying the princess's face.
"Sorry, girl, but Raven doesn't give a shit about him." Lyra's smile was sharp. "Besides, Marcus wasn't kidnapped. Don't tell him I said that."
The revelation hit like a physical blow. "You know too much," Meus said slowly. "And I haven't seen you wrong with your predictions."
"It's not a prediction." Lyra's eyes glittered. "I know."
"There you go." Meus crossed her arms. "What game are you playing, Princess?"
"The same one you are." Lyra stood, moving closer. "I know you love Raven."
The statement hung in the air between them, dangerous and exposed. Meus kept her expression neutral through years of training.
"Apart from him being my boss, he's the only person I can call family."
"Bullshit." Lyra's smile widened. "Well, let me be your family also. Maybe your mom."
The absurdity of it—this woman who couldn't be more than a few days older than her, offering maternal guidance—almost made Meus laugh.
"I appreciate it, but no."
Something in Lyra's eyes shifted, a calculation being made. "You don't trust me."
"Should I?"
"Probably not." At least she was honest. "But we both want what's best for him."
"And what's that?"
"To survive what's coming." Lyra's expression turned serious. "Because something is coming.
Before Meus could respond, the command center's alert system chimed. A Grokkies communications officer approached.
"Commander Meus," he reported, "there's a ship approaching. Not Imperial. Different faction entirely."
"Identification?" Meus was already moving toward the tactical display.
"Zephyrian Royal Vessel," the officer replied. "They're requesting immediate docking clearance."
"That's my brother," Lyra said, moving toward the exit. "This should be interesting."
Meus followed, hand resting on her sidearm. "You didn't mention expecting family."
"I wasn't." For the first time since Meus had met her, the princess looked genuinely surprised. "This is... unexpected."
They reached the observation deck in time to see the Zephyrian vessel settling into the docking bay—sleek, elegant, and unmistakably royal.
The boarding ramp extended, and a young man descended—tall, with the same regal bearing and features as Lyra. Behind him came a contingent of guards in ceremonial armor that Meus knew from experience was anything but decorative.
"Prince Arren," Lyra said, her voice suddenly formal. "My brother."
Meus studied the man. He carried himself like someone trained in combat but refined by politics—dangerous in multiple arenas.
"Lyra," he called, spotting them. "Dad wants you back home. Now."
Lyra's posture shifted subtly—from royal princess to rebellious sister in an instant. "Make me."
The prince sighed with the weariness of someone who'd had this conversation many times before. "Come on, Lyra. Dad wants to see you, and I feel this thing between you and Raven isn't working."
"Not your business."
"Mom said you should come," he added, playing his trump card. "Her birthday is next week."
Meus watched the internal struggle play across Lyra's face—the first genuine emotion she'd seen from the princess. Family ties pulling against whatever game she was playing with Raven.
Lyra hesitated, then turned to Meus. "Tell Raven to come to my homeworld."
Before Meus could respond, Lyra stepped closer, her voice dropping. "And I love you, Meus. Know that."
The unexpected declaration left Meus speechless. Before she could recover, Lyra was moving toward the ship, her royal bearing returning with each step.
"Princess," Meus called after her. "What about Marcus?"
Lyra paused at the foot of the ramp. "Ask Raven about his mother," she said without turning. "That's where all of this started."
Then she was gone, ascending into the Zephyrian vessel with her brother and his guards.
Meus stood watching as the ship detached and moved away from the station, wondering if she'd just witnessed a strategic retreat or something else entirely.
Either way, Raven needed to know. As soon as he made contact again.
If he made contact again.
With Lyra gone, Meus returned to her quarters, mind racing. The princess's parting words echoed: Ask Raven about his mother.
Raven rarely spoke of his mother. In fact, in all the years Meus had served him, she could count on one hand the number of times he'd mentioned her. Always in passing, always with a strange distance.
She accessed her secure terminal, entering her Imperial Guard clearance codes. If anyone had information on Lady Vex'thara, it would be in the classified archives.
The screen flashed: ACCESS DENIED.
She tried again, using her secondary codes. The same result.
"Computer, reason for access denial?"
"Information classified beyond current authorization level."
Interesting. What could be so sensitive about the Emperor's deceased wife that even the Crown Prince's personal guard couldn't access it?
She tried a different approach, searching for public records instead. The results were sparse—official portraits, ceremonial appearances, the announcement of her death fifteen years ago. Cause: classified.
One image caught her attention—Lady Vex'thara standing beside a research team. The caption listed only "Imperial Science Division," but Meus recognized one of the faces in the background.
Victor Kronos. Younger, less distinguished, but unmistakable.
"Computer, cross-reference Lady Vex'thara with Victor Kronos."
"No results found."
But the image was right there. Which meant someone had scrubbed the connection from official records.
Meus downloaded the image to her personal device. Raven needed to see this—assuming he returned from HD207.
The thought sent her back to the command center. Still no contact from the planet. Seven hours now.
"Commander," a Grokkies officer approached. "We've detected unusual energy readings from HD207."
"What kind of readings?"
"Unknown, but powerful. And growing."
Meus made her decision. "Prepare my ship. I'm going after them."
"But Captain Vex'thara ordered—"
"I know what he ordered." She was already moving toward the hangar. "And I'm choosing to ignore it."
Some orders were meant to be broken. Especially when they came from someone who might not understand the game he was playing.
In the Imperial Palace, the Emperor stood before a wall of monitors, each showing different aspects of the same situation. HD207's surface. The Grokkies Station. The Zephyrian royal vessel departing.
"The princess has left," Admiral Korrath reported from the doorway.
"As expected." The Emperor didn't turn. "And my son?"
"Still on the planet. The energy readings are... concerning."
"They should be." A rare smile crossed the Emperor's face. "He's found Gateway One."
"Should we proceed with the bombardment?"
"No." The Emperor finally turned. "Not yet. Let's see what he does with it first."
"And if he activates it?"
"Then we'll know if he's truly my son." The Emperor's red eyes gleamed. "Or something else entirely."
Korrath hesitated. "The Zephyrians are moving faster than anticipated. If they secure his genetic material—"
"They won't." The confidence was absolute. "Because they don't understand what they're truly dealing with."
On the central monitor, a surge of energy erupted from HD207's surface—a pillar of light visible even from orbit.
"It begins," the Emperor said softly. "Inform Victor. Tell him it's time for the next phase."
As Korrath left to carry out his orders, the Emperor returned his gaze to the monitors. To the son who might not be his son anymore. To the game that had been playing out for generations.
"Show me who you really are, Raven," he whispered. "Show me what you've become."