Page 30 of Koha'vek
“And now?”
Koha’vek glanced at me, his golden eyes softer than usual. “Now I think he saw the truth before I was ready to.”
I nodded slowly, letting that settle.
I didn’t know what it felt like to walk away from everything you were trained to believe. But I knew what it felt like to question the world that built you, and wonder if something better could ever take its place.
“Did it help?” I asked.
“The call?”
“Talking to someone else who made the same choice.”
He exhaled. “Yes. It helped.”
He didn’t need to say more.
I leaned my head gently against his shoulder. His skin was warm, the scent of pine resin still lingering faintly on him from earlier that day.
“I’m glad you have someone out there who understands,” I murmured. “Even if he used to be a stranger.”
Koha’vek turned his head slightly, brushing his temple against mine in a gesture I’d come to understand as affection. “So are you,” he said. “Someone who understands.”
And even though the council hadn’t made its decision yet—even though everything was still uncertain—I felt it again, deep in my chest.
Thatwehe spoke of.
That future we hadn’t asked for, but were slowly building anyway.
Together.
Chapter Eighteen
General Vyken Dark
The High Council chamber flickered into focus around me, though I wasn’t physically there. My holographic projection stood alone at the center of that massive hall, facing eight councilors whose expressions were as carved and polished as the stone walls behind them.
I’d seen more honest faces on the battlefield.
Councilor Lin-Har gave a nod. “General Dark. The Council has reviewed your evidence, the reports from Cyborg Protector Blackwood, and the supporting records from your internal systems. Your recommendation has been considered.”
She didn’t look pleased.
None of them did.
I waited.
Councilor Gavarn was the one who finally said it. “We recognize the presence of the Mesaarkan deserter colony in the Colorado wilderness. We are aware of their associationswith Earth citizens and the risk posed should that knowledge become widely known.”
There it was: the thing they wouldn’t say out loud.
Not the ethics.
Not the lives.
Just the risk.
Councilor Na’shuri folded her hands. “The Mesaarkan Empire remains… sensitive. Under the terms of our peace agreement, we are obligated to return escaped combatants upon request. To grant public asylum to known deserters could violate the treaty and reignite hostilities.”
