“Elliot, what did Officer Rook just do?”

  “Security update is classified.”

  “Even to the captain?”

  “Affirmative. Restricted INA security directive invoked.”

  He rounded on Rook. “If you have done anything to endanger this ship or the crew, I swear—”

  “I have not,” Rook said. His tone was level. “I have mitigated an external threat to increase the chance of mission success.”

  “You and your secret missions. You’re going to get us all killed,” Carrick said.

  “He said his mission is now to protect the ship and the crew,” Mavik said, turning to face Rook. “It is, isn’t it?”

  “Affirmative,” Rook replied.

  Roarke held his gaze a moment longer, measuring him. “I'll trust you, Rook. Don’t make me regret it. Any more unauthorised commands and I’ll have you thrown in the brig.”

  “How?” Carrick said. “He’s the one with the gun.”

  “I’m still the captain of this ship,” Roarke muttered under his breath. Then he turned back to the main display.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Captain,” Hale said, her voice breaking. “It’s moved again.”

  “Visuals,” Roarke ordered, straightening in his chair.

  The Rift bloomed across the main screen, an immense fractal wound torn in impossible spectra across the stars.

  Cassandra turned away with a sharp breath.

  “I’m OK,” she said as Hale stood.

  The deck shifted.

  Hale’s balance went light. Carrick grabbed the console. Roarke braced on the armrest.

  “Report,” Roarke said.

  “Gravity fluctuation,” ELIOT replied.

  Weight vanished.

  For half a second the bridge loosened. Hale felt her stomach lift. A stylus rose from the console and turned slowly in the air.

  Gravity returned with a dull, solid thump.

  Silence followed.

  Cassandra drew in a sharp breath.

  “It’s different,” she said.

  On the main screen, the Rift had changed.

  Fracture-lines drew inward. Colours sharpened and concentrated. The dark spine at its centre flexed into a new alignment.

  “Position unchanged,” Hale said.

  “Explain,” Roarke replied.

  The stars around the Rift shimmered and resolved again.

  Cassandra lowered her hand from the bulkhead.

  “It’s responding,” she said.

  “To what?” Carrick asked.

  She met his gaze.

  “To us.”

  Another tremor ran through the deck. It settled into a steady vibration.

  “They’ve seen us,” Cassandra said.

  on my Substack

  The Chronicles of Heraldria, is available on Amazon