“The Axis set a deadline.” Darven looked up at him blandly. “And Axis deadlines are met. Period. Even if it means a rushed build.”

Stavian eyed him, trying not to hate him. “You’ve been here since the DeLink Mine’s construction. Why wasn’t I informed of structural deficiencies?”

“It wasn’t relevant to crystal extraction,” Darven replied, sounding exasperated. “Controller, our biggest problem is that when Axis Central reviews this incident, they’ll want names. Someone to blame.”

Stavian’s gaze sharpened. “If Central set an unrealistic deadline that resulted in the construction of an unstable mine, they should look at themselves.”

“You aren’t thinking clearly.” Darven exhaled. “Do you want to survive this or not?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Stavian crossed his arms.

Darven swore under his breath. “It doesn’t matter how the mine was built. Central will blame us.” His gaze turned considering. “You, specifically, as the controller in charge of the mine.”

“Fine.” Stavian was so done, he had to fight to keep his expression neutral and his raging feelings to himself. Darven would be the first to blame him, but Stavian didn’t care. Not anymore. “Then they can blame me. In the meantime, production is on hold until this mine is made safe.”

“You’re not serious.” Darven let out a disbelieving laugh. “Mechs can clear the debris and shore up tunnel E. Send word to Central that we need a new shipment of miners. We take the current group we have offline, and with fresh bodies, we’ll be back in those tunnels within two cycles.”

Every word Darven uttered made Stavian want to punch him in the face. “No.”

Darven stared at him like he couldn’t believe what he just heard. “You’re walking toward a full tribunal.”

“Then I’ll walk fast,” Stavian said, and he turned to leave before he sent Darven to the med lab himself. He didn’t stop. Didn’t explain. He left Darven standing on the command deck with a vein pulsing at his temple and a list of excuses trying to sputter out of his mouth.

Stavian made his way to the upper hangar. His boots struck the steel floor harder than normal—he didn’t bother hiding the weight of his thoughts. Above him, the emergency lights flicked every few seconds, trying to resume normal function. The mine was so quiet, as if it was holding its breath.

He bypassed the docking bay entrance and keyed into the access corridor that led to the transport inventory. The door scanned his wrist, ran three clearance checks, and opened with a hiss.

The manifest pulled up on the wall screen. He tapped fast, pulling rows of ship specs and cargo loads. Four Axis-class transports were docked. Two were heavy haulers—no good for people, slow and completely exposed. The third was decommissioned for repairs and still missing a functional nav core.

But the fourth…

Stavian’s pulse ticked.

ESS Mirka. Mid-range transport. It was technically rated for ore transfer, but the galley system and recycled air system marked it as multipurpose. Passenger-grade. It was outdated and a couple tons heavy, but the layout had everything he needed. It could fly. It had shields and defensive weaponry. And it could carry them all if he moved fast enough.

He activated his interface and opened a systems map of the ship.

Power core level: 82%.

Navigation systems: fully functional but outdated.

Dock locks: secured.

Override access: Limited to clearance B5-level and above.

Stavian stared at the screen a long moment. His clearance was A7, which meant he had full override access to this ship. It would take several cycles to manually input flight routes without going through the central system, which was monitored. He rubbed his chin, considering his options. If he overrode the system completely and forced a blind jump, it would be a big risk. That would mean rerouting. Forging destination codes. Jamming the comm feeds long enough to move without alerting Central.

The first option was safer. The injured miners needed time to recover, and during that time, he could sneak in and quietly override the ship’s systems so that when they left, they’d be cut off from the Axis network and harder to trace. He could do it. It was still atrociously risky, but once they were spaceborne, it wouldn’t matter.

This was the ship. This was the way out.

He examined the schematics, zooming into the sub-hold beneath the main loading deck. There was enough space for every miner. There were forty-nine of them, currently. He checked the numbers. There were twelve staterooms, but the cargo bay was big enough to hold fifty standard freight stacks. With some reorganization, they’d have more than enough room for every living miner. Each one.

Stavian’s heart settled into a pace he recognized—stable working rhythm. This was no longer about surviving the Axis. It was about running from them.

He turned from the console and keyed into encrypted comms. “Elite mech unit S-three-N—activate and report to dock 4B. Prepare for maintenance inspection.”

The response came fast. “Confirmed. Standing by.”