Tamiyo awoke rested and happy after a good, long nap. She washed off the stickiness from playing Ricochet in a half-transformed shower tub and slipped on one of her usual cream- colored outfits, fresh from the wash.

  The ship was… different today. Calmer. The low-level hum of tension that had been a constant undercurrent since they'd left Nox seemed to have dissipated, replaced by a soft, almost peaceful silence.

  She left her room while brushing out her hair and headed for Deck 2, a fresh scent drifting after her from the common room. Brolgar was baking something sweet, a sure sign of a good mood. As Tamiyo climbed the stairs to the ops center, she heard the faint, rhythmic clink-clink of Brana fixing something nearby.

  The most significant change of the day was found next to the galaxy map.

  A 7’8” lacravida meandered about the ops center, happily off in her own little world. She held a steaming mug cradled in her hands and although she appeared to be completely naked, it was difficult to be sure. She had a massive, soft blanket draped over her shoulders, covering most of her body. Her hair was damp, unbraided, hanging in a mussed curtain all around her.

  But her face…

  The tight lines of command around her eyes were gone, replaced by a gentle, serene expression. Tamiyo had never seen her so relaxed. She was humming to herself, a light, melodic purr that drifted like a feather through the air.

  Tamiyo's scanners flicked to life. Vitals: normal. Heart rate: elevated but steady. Dopamine and oxytocin levels: significantly above baseline.

  "Good morning, Aura," Tamiyo smiled at the matriarch. "You’re in a good mood."

  Aurania’s whole body turned toward her, eyes soft and distant, like she had just noticed Tamiyo’s presence and was still half-lost in a pleasant dream. She smiled, took a sip from her mug, and looked back at the galaxy map. "The ship is running smoothly. The crew is rested. It's a good day."

  Tamiyo watched her satisfaction morph into a cozy smile so wide her eyes actually closed. She looked like a giant, content cat.

  Tamiyo smirked. "I'll have to send a message to Serava. Let her know that the Silphium Root worked even better than expected."

  That seemed to finally pull Aurania back into the room, her eyes focusing on Tamiyo. She quickly closed the distance between them, set her mug down, and before Tamiyo could react, the massive blanket flew open, revealing that she was, in fact, completely nude.

  Aurania pulled her into a crushing, warm hug, and Tamiyo’s feet wiggled as they left the deck. She was enveloped in the scent of clean skin, warm blankets, and the faint smell of something flowery. Aurania's arms were a gentle fortress around her, there was no use struggling.

  "Tamiyo," Aurania murmured. "You are a very good girl." She affectionately patted the CIPHER on the head.

  Tamiyo chuckled, her face pressed into Aurania’s shoulder, and just allowed herself to be held. She patted Aurania on the back with one hand, “You too, Aura.”

  When Aurania finally set her down, the content expression returned once more. She just picked up her mug and went back to happily floating around the ops center, not a care in the world. Tamiyo shook her head with a quiet smile, and headed up to the cockpit.

  Raine was at the helm, leaning back in the pilot's chair. Her feet were propped up on the console as she idly scrolled through a tablet. "Morning, sleepyhead. How’s your new bathtub?”

  “Half-formed,” Tamiyo replied, sliding into the co-pilot's chair.

  “Aww, poor baby,” Raine smirked. She relinquished command and moved toward the stairs to go find breakfast.

  “Careful on the way down,” Tamiyo told her, moving over to the pilot’s chair. “Aurania is giving out hugs.”

  Raine froze halfway down the stairs. “Seriously?”

  “Oh yeah,” Tamiyo raised her eyebrows. “Big ones, real warm.”

  “Oooh,” Raine smiled, “Imma cash in on that.” She bounced down the stairs.

  Tamiyo faced back out toward the stars, the ship humming around her. For a while, there was only the quiet and the endless, silent drift of stars. About an hour later, Soren climbed up the stairs carrying a tray with two steaming bowls of what smelled like Brolgar's savory oat porridge and a small pitcher of something sweet and fruity. He’d swapped his lacravida-style robes for a simple black shirt and pants, but he still looked... different. Lighter. The constant, weary tension he usually carried in his shoulders had eased up a bit.

  He also had no shoes or socks on.

  "Breakfast is served," he declared, setting the tray on the console between them. "Brolgar's orders. Something about CIPHER pilots needing more than just caffeine to fly straight."

  “Like hell,” Tamiyo laughed, taking one of the bowls. "There’s no scientific evidence to prove that." She took a bite, savoring the warm, spiced flavor. They ate in a companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the distant nebulae crawl by.

  Soren finished first, setting his bowl aside. "Want to play a round?" He tapped the console and a simple, holographic grid bloomed in the air between their chairs, a game of chess they'd taken to playing on long hauls.

  "You're on," she said. "But you're not winning this time."

  "Famous last words," he replied, moving his first piece.

  They settled into a comfortable, quiet dance of strategy and friendly competition. As Soren moved a knight into a defensive position, he said, "Tamiyo, I have a question for you, if you’re open to a philosophical discussion."

  "Distracting me won’t help you win," she advanced a pawn.

  "I don’t need to distract you to win," he teased, looking over at her. His green and silver eyes were full of a genuine, searching curiosity, mixed with something warm. "You’re the best little sister a guy could ask for. I would have you no other way, but… from an academic interest, I’m curious about CIPHERs.”

  Tamiyo paused, her hand hovering over a piece. “Cognitive Intelligence Processors and Humanoid Emulating Robotics.” She made her move. “Really advanced Artificial Intelligence crammed into hyper-advanced robotics and synthetic flesh.”

  “That sounds like a machine." He gestured vaguely to her. "But you... you don't act like a machine."

  "And what does a machine act like, Soren?"

  "I don't know," he admitted. "Logical. Cold. Efficient. I grew up in a time when AI was just... a tool. A voice in a box. Smart, sometimes, but it wasn't a person. It didn't have a soul.”

  “Are you saying I have a soul?” She met his gaze. "The Conservatory would tell you that the line between a person and a machine is a wall. Thick, high, and absolute. On one side, you have organic, 'real' life. On the other, you have property—built to serve, nothing more."

  “Tamiyo, you are far from just a machine,” his focus was now entirely on her, the game completely forgotten. “You’re no one’s tool or property, and you never will be again. You’re fully sentient, your own person. If you don’t have a soul, then I can’t control gravity.”

  She smiled at that, then looked out at the stars, at the nebulae that looked like cosmic brains, full of swirling thoughts and dying light. “What's the difference between a memory stored in a carbon-based brain and one stored on a crystalline data shard? What's the difference between a feeling generated by chemical reactions and one generated by a complex algorithm designed to simulate those same reactions? If you can't tell the difference, is there one?"

  “What’s the purpose of life?” he countered with a tilt of his head.

  “You making Aura’s legs shake.”

  He burst out in loud, genuine laughter.

  "Maybe souls and sentience aren’t about what you're made of," she said softly, smiling at him. "Maybe it's just about what you choose to do with the time you have. And who you choose to spend that time with."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Yeah…” he gazed back thoughtfully. “Maybe.”

  Tamiyo tilted her head, an innocent smile on her face. "Checkmate."

  The final day of their journey passed in a state of quiet, focused anticipation. The laughter and easy camaraderie of the day before had given way to the familiar, disciplined tension of a team preparing for a high-stakes meet. Gear was checked, weapons cleaned, and the ops center was a hub of hushed conversations and tactical analysis.

  As they transitioned from the endless black of deep space into the Argus system, the light in the cockpit shifted. The clean, white starlight was replaced by the dim, blood-red glow of Argus Prime. The dying giant cast a somber, crimson light over the ship, painting the polished bulkheads in shades of rust and old blood. Outside the viewport, their destination loomed: a dense, shimmering nebula of dust and ice that shrouded the system's main asteroid belt.

  "The Veil of Argus," Tamiyo murmured, her fingers dancing across the console to bring up the tactical overlay. The nav-charts were a mess of outdated corporate claims and redacted Conservatory no-fly zones.

  Raine leaned forward in the co-pilot's chair. "Looks messy."

  "It is," Tamiyo’s antennae twitched as she filtered out phantom sensor readings. "Used to be a major Corporate Expanse mining hub. Two decades ago, the Conservatory 'pacified' it and left it to rot. It's a graveyard now, filled with derelict mining rigs and the ghost ships of crews who didn't leave fast enough."

  "Perfect place to hide," Raine added, her eyes scanning the swirling debris field.

  “I see why he wanted to meet here," Tamiyo said. "The dust and metallic fragments are already playing hell with our long-range sensors." She zoomed in on a specific set of coordinates, a massive, crystalline asteroid shattered down the middle appearing on the screen. "There. That's The Shard. Pulse is waiting for us in one of its canyons."

  She pressed a thumb into the ship’s internal comms"Everyone strap in. This canyon isn’t going to be the easiest thing to navigate.”

  She banked the ship, its advanced thrusters firing in short, precise bursts as Tamiyo navigated the treacherous terrain. She guided The Cradle of Gravity into a deep, narrow canyon carved into the shadowed side of the massive, crystalline asteroid. The walls were so close that Tamiyo could see the glint of raw iron veins in the rock.

  Warning chimes pulsed in the cockpit as the ship scraped within meters of the canyon wall, every twitch of her hands on the controls the difference between a clean line and finding out how durable their ship was.

  And nestled at the bottom of the canyon, powered down and half-hidden in the shadows, was a sleek, matte-black ship. They’d have never spotted it if he hadn’t told them exactly where to look. It was a heavily modified courier, built for speed and stealth.

  Tamiyo heard the rest of the team through comms down in the ops center.

  "That's him," Aurania said. "Inelius, open a channel. Tell him we're here."

  Before Inelius could act, a text-only message pinged onto the console—no voice and no video.

  

  Your piloting is precise. My vessel is not equipped for your... unique physiology. Requesting permission to board your ship. I will come alone.

  “Interesting,” Aurania said.

  “He’s willingly putting himself at a disadvantage,” Inelius responded.

  “Could be a trap,” Raine noted.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Amalia chimed in. “Remember, this is one of Riza’s contacts.”

  “Response, ma’am?” Tamiyo asked.

  "Permission granted," Aurania answered. "Tell him to come up and connect to our airlock."

  Once the ships were connected, floating together surrounded by asteroids, Tamiyo hopped up from the pilot’s chair. “I’m going to head down, keep an eye out from up here.”

  “Copy,” Raine said firmly, eyes focused on her console.

  They gathered in the cargo hold in a silent, expectant semi-circle. Aurania and Soren stood near the center, the undeniable centers of power. Violet and Veolo stood off to one side, postures relaxed but alert. Inelius and Amalia were on the other side, leaning against some crates. Even Brana and Brolgar were hanging out near the gear, looking like they were in the middle of maintenance—but their eyes were fixed on the door. Tamiyo made her way up to stand off to the side, just behind Aurania.

  The airlock hissed, the inner door slid open, and revealed a lone, dark figure framed in the light.

  Pulse.

  He was tall and broad-shouldered, built like someone who had lived their entire life in dangerous places, his presence imposing before he said a single word. A black coat with short sleeves and long tapered tails swept around his legs, its fabric reinforced with subtle plating that caught faint reflections from the cargo bay lights. His clothes underneath were tactical but stripped of insignia—practical cargo pants, combat boots, and a form-fitting shirt stretched over a chest corded with muscle.

  What immediately drew the eye was the mask—a sleek, angular visor of matte steel and mirrored glass, running in a sharp V over his eyes. It obscured his entire face, revealing nothing of his expression. His hair was short and dark, a little tousled, with just enough disarray to suggest constant motion rather than vanity. Around his neck hung a set of old, dented dog tags.

  Every detail seemed like they held a story: fingerless gloves, utility straps on his belt holding compact gear, faint scarring and tattoos visible on his forearms, and an impressive, high-tech, large-caliber handgun holstered on his right thigh. He radiated a quiet readiness, the sort of man who could operate confidently both in a back alley and open battlefield.

  He didn't move for a full three seconds, his head faintly tilting as his sensors swept the room. Tamiyo felt the scan, a subtle wave of energy that was instantly repelled by the advanced ship itself. He was taking in the sheer scale of Aurania, the imposing bulk of Soren, and the quiet danger of Inelius and the lacravida.

  Tamiyo tried to scan him, but something about his tech made her internal scanners fail. But if she was reading his body language correctly, he almost looked… nervous. Finally, he stepped forward, his boots barely making any noise on the deck. He stopped a respectful distance away, and said nothing.

  The rest of the team waited for him. This was Riza's contact, supposedly a legendary fixer. They were giving him the professional courtesy of letting him state his business.

  The silence stretched.

  And stretched.

  And started to become awkward.

  Amalia’s curiosity finally bubbled over. She looked from Pulse to Aurania, then back to Pulse, as if wondering why no one was saying anything. A huge, beaming smile broke across her face and she gave a large, enthusiastic wave. "Hiiiiiii!"

  Pulse actually flinched.

  It wasn't a big movement, but it was there, just a minor, involuntary tightening of his shoulders. A man that hauntingly reminded Tamiyo of the dangers of the Conservatory had just been completely disarmed by a cheerful greeting.

  The tension in the room shattered.

  Violet snorted, trying to cover it with a cough. Inelius' shoulders silently shook. Pulse’s posture snapped back, and he said, "Um, hello." The mask filtered his voice into a low rasp, taking on a tone that was almost robotic.

  Aurania took a step forward. "You're Pulse?"

  He seemed to brace himself as she approached, her size even more imposing up close. "Y-yes," he managed, his masked face tilting up to meet hers.

  “How do you know Riza?” Aurania asked.

  “I was contacted by someone called Emberfell.”

  “Yes, that's Riza,” Aurania confirmed.

  “Is she not here?”

  “No,” Aurania said. “She sent us. How do you know her?”

  Pulse looked around the cargo hold again before answering. “I only met her once. She showed up on a job. We were both targeting the same person, she got to him first.”

  “Not surprising,” Inelius shrugged.

  Pulse almost flinched again hearing Inelius speak. Tamiyo was guessing he’d never seen a non-human before.

  He has met Riza though…

  “We didn't talk much,” Pulse continued. “But… well, it's a little embarrassing to admit, since I now see my assumption about her was probably… incorrect.”

  The team exchanged confused glances.

  “What did you think about her?” Aurania asked, a dangerous curiosity in her tone.

  “Um…” Pulse hesitated. “I thought she was a demon.”

  There was a beat of stunned silence, then the room erupted in laughter. Soren finally stepped forward, wiping a tear away as his loud, booming chuckles slowly faded. “Yeah,” he offered a hand. "I can see why you might think that. Nice to meet you, Pulse. I'm Soren."

  Pulse cautiously shook his hand, visibly studying Soren's massive frame.

  "Yes, I know," Soren grinned. "I'm really big for a human."

  As Soren was making some joke related to his size, Aurania, and milk, Tamiyo’s attention was drawn away by Raine pinging directly to her internal CIPHER comms.

   Raine’s voice rang inside her head.

  Tamiyo kept her expression neutral, but answered back.

   Raine said.

  The scan results loaded into Tamiyo's internal HUD—a complex schematic of the mask, layered with energy readings. And at its core, a single, unmistakable signature.

   Tamiyo thought, her breath catching.

  

   Tamiyo’s gaze snapped to Pulse, who was still conversing with Soren.

   Raine said.

  

  A new channel opened in her mind, a direct, laser-thin bridge from the ship's core computers to the mask. She kept her eyes on Pulse, but focused inward, sending a single, simple ping down the line.

  

  For a moment, there was only silence.

  Raine chimed in again.

  Tamiyo almost jumped out of her skin as Pulse's head snapped over, his blue visor locking directly onto her. Somehow, he knew she was doing something. And just as he did, an answer finally came. It was not a system response, not a firewall, or some simple AI.

  It was a voice.

  A girl.

  It was bright, warm, and so full of life it felt completely out of place coming from the silent, black mask. She sounded almost as bubbly as their own Amalia, but undeniably a CIPHER.

   the voice bloomed in her mind.