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The lights pulsed again and Dreven took one step toward Kesta. She raised two fingers—the signal for hold—and he stopped before concern could become intervention. His entire body fought the decision. Muscles locked along his shoulders. His claws extended. The empire had designed command-class conditioning to turn protection into reflex and reflex into control. Kesta walked to him rather than calling him closer.

“Look at my hands.”

He did.

“Are they restrained?”

“No.”

“Am I asking for rescue?”

“No.”

“What am I asking?”

“To continue.”

The blue light died. They continued. At the junction below, the first Hallow prisoners waited with weapons made from medical braces and broken conduit. They were gaunt, implanted, and terrified of every uniformed silhouette. One of them saw Dreven’s horns and lunged. Keth moved to intercept.

“Stop,” Kesta ordered.

The prisoner’s sharpened brace pressed against Dreven’s throat. Dreven did not raise a hand.

“I am not your keeper,” he said.

The prisoner shook so violently the metal clicked against his scales. Nara stepped into view. “Hess.” His face broke.

“Nara?”

She crossed the distance slowly. “The children?”

“Lower ward. Three alive. Maybe more.”

“Elara?” Kesta asked.

Hess looked at her wrist, then at Dreven. “She said the anchor would come with the command beast.” Dreven absorbed the insult without reacting.

“She also said,” Hess continued, “that if you opened the shuttle cradle before disabling the pair chamber, the station would seal every lower ward and vent them.”

Kesta’s stomach tightened as the pattern resolved. The shuttle was not merely an exit route; it was bait placed where hope itself would draw the right subjects into reach. Tavi unfolded the station map. “Pair chamber here. Children here. Records core here. Shuttle cradle here.” Four objectives. Three teams. One route that would remain open for less than ninety minutes.

Rath joined them at the junction, dust on his armor and blood along one cheek. “My scouts found an imperial receiver waking above the cradle. We have less time than that.” Kesta looked at the map. Nara’s three children came first. That promise was not negotiable. The forty-three prisoners could not all move quickly. The records could prove what the empire had done. The shuttle could carry twenty-eight at most without repairs, perhaps thirty-four if Tavi stripped life-support reserves. Elara was somewhere between all of them.

Dreven waited for Kesta to speak. He had a plan, but she commanded medical and conditioning response, and shared command meant allowing her priorities to alter his own.

“Children first,” Kesta said. “Sera and Nara take the lower ward. Keth secures prisoners and creates movement groups. Rath blocks the cradle approach. Tavi goes for the shuttle only after the pair chamber is disabled.”

“And the records?” Lina asked.

Kesta looked toward the core corridor. The proof that had destroyed her old life waited behind one door. Living people waited behind another.

“People before evidence.”

Lina’s disappointment was visible but controlled. “Then I will salvage what I can while escorting the ambulatory group.” Dreven touched the map but not Kesta. “The pair chamber requires us.”

“Yes.”

“Then we go there together.”