I woke up feeling surprisingly relaxed, the low hum of the Revenge slicing through the empty dark seas vibrating gently through the hull. Then came three soft knocks. The door slid open.

  It was Gina.

  “Get up, soldier. Jerry’s summoning us to the bridge.”

  I flashed her a lazy smile and nodded. “Just five more minutes.” I rolled onto my side, curling away from her.

  Big mistake.

  She launched herself onto the bed, tackling me in a playful wrestle. I fought back, laughing, but she was faster. In seconds she had me pinned, straddling my chest, both my wrists trapped above my head. Her face hovered inches from mine, eyes sparkling with mischief.

  Then she leaned down and kissed me—quick, firm, unexpected.

  I froze.

  She pulled back, grinning. “Fun time’s over. Put your trousers on and let’s go.” With that, she hopped off and sauntered out, leaving the door half-open.

  I lay there blinking at the ceiling. What the hell was that kiss about?

  After a moment I shook it off, dressed quickly, and headed to the bridge.

  Jerry stood at the holographic table. Gina was already there, smirking like she knew something I didn’t. Faye stood beside her—wait, Faye?

  Jerry cleared his throat. “Alright, ladies… and one very rugged gentleman.” He glanced at me with faint amusement. “Unfortunately, Prince Marcus can’t join us in person. The Empire’s invasion of the Union has him tied up.” Faye gave a small, worried bow at the mention of the war. “So as admiral of this ship, I’m delivering the briefing.”

  Gina raised an eyebrow. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “There is no everyone else,” Jerry said. “Just you three.”

  “Three?” I echoed. “Who’s the third?”

  Faye half-raised her hand. “Me.”

  I stared at her. “What?”

  “I’m part of the Foundation right?” she said calmly. “I’m coming. And I insist.”

  I opened my mouth, closed it again. No point arguing with Faye when she used that tone.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Jerry tapped the holo-table, bringing up a rotating schematic. “Operation Black Seed. Objective: locate the supercomputer, extract Data Core Number 5, and exfiltrate. No shooting. No explosions. In and out clean.”

  I snorted. “That’s… boring.”

  Gina laughed outright.

  “Yes, it is,” Jerry agreed. “But those are Prince Marcus’s direct orders.”

  “Where’s the target?” Gina asked.

  “Sector 1. Imperial Capital. Sapphire Palace—dead center of the Black Fields, heart of Imperial operations.” Jerry zoomed the map in. “Beneath the palace basement is a compact analysis unit, roughly the size of a small suitcase. It monitors the main veins of black christanium running under the surface. The data core is already prepared and waiting. You just have to retrieve it.”

  I blinked. “The Sapphire Palace? How the hell are we supposed to get inside? That place is a fortress.”

  “Disguise,” Jerry said with a smug little smile. “And timing. With the invasion fleet launching, most of the palace guard has been redeployed. Emperor Arthur I is aboard his flagship overseeing the assault. Only a skeleton crew of officers remains within Sector 1.”

  “Easy,” Gina muttered, smirking.

  “Even with disguises,” I said, “we’ll be recognized. Thick beards or not.”

  Jerry’s grin widened. “That’s why Prince Marcus sent Harvey the schematics and materials weeks ago.”

  Right on cue, Harvey strode onto the bridge carrying three matte-black masks, practically vibrating with excitement.

  “Freshly cooked from the Revenge’s engineering kitchen,” he announced. “The Impostor's Masks. Slip one on—voilà—new face.”

  He handed them over. The material was impossibly thin, soft, rubbery, almost weightless. It wiggled like jelly when I waved it.

  Harvey produced three sleek wristwatches next. “Controllers. Prototype rush job, so there’s a catch: two-hour battery life, max. After that the mask deactivates and your real face comes back. So, move fast.”

  Jerry clapped once. “Uniforms are ready, imperial blue. The Dragonfly’s been repainted—blue and platinum silver, full Imperial markings and transponder codes. She’s registered as one of their own now.”

  I stared at the crisp uniforms laid out. Imperial blue. The same color I’d burned my old set of after I deserted. Putting it on again felt like slipping into a dead man’s skin.

  We changed quickly. Gina looked sharp—straight trousers, jacket fitted perfectly, emblems gleaming. Every inch the disciplined soldier she is. Respectable. Dangerous.

  Then there was Faye.

  I’d only ever seen her in flowing royal gowns, elegant and untouchable. Now she stood in the same blue uniform, but with a tailored skirt instead of trousers. The contrast was striking—military precision wrapped around her natural grace. She looked… regal and lethal. The woman I’d once loved stared back at me, calm and composed.

  I swallowed and looked away.

  We marched to the hangar in silence. The Dragonfly waited, no longer in Dead Men's matte black but gleaming in Imperial colors. The logo stared down at us: a blue Earth encircled by platinum olive leaves, a crystal below, a cross above. Arthur’s personal seal. A devout Christian emperor who murdered millions in the name of power and “divine right.” One more reason I’d walked away.

  We boarded.

  No guns hot this time. No breaching charges. No explosions lighting up the night.

  Just three impostors in stolen uniforms, six hours of borrowed faces, and a silent prayer that we could walk into the most heavily defended palace in the galaxy… and walk back out again.

  I strapped in, stomach tight with unfamiliar nerves.

  Silent infiltration with disguises. My very first time.

  I’d never done quiet before.

  And that scared me more than any firefight ever had.