TSD: 3049-10-04 — Local: 13:44
Galatea, Galatea System — Continental Route 7 (Service Yard East Fuel Pumps / Maintenance Shed Row)
The "worker" truck came in too fast, too heavy, and too clean.
Its suspension barely bounced over the yard's uneven concrete—like it was built for hard starts and hard stops, not hauling fuel filters and bored laborers. The cab windows were tinted darker than regulation. The driver didn't look at the pumps, didn't look at the shed numbers, didn't look at anything except the lane—like a man whose world had narrowed to one line of instruction.
Kel watched it without moving.
Hess's security APC rolled out as ordered, broad and squat, its tires turning slow to make it look routine. It cut the lane at an angle that forced the truck to decide: stop, or commit to a collision.
The truck committed.
It swerved hard, tires screaming, nose cutting toward the shed line—toward the conduit box, toward the receiver, toward Mara and Kel.
Kel didn't flinch. He didn't step back. He didn't reach for his pistol.
He simply raised his comm mic and spoke, calm as if calling range brackets.
"Hess. Disable the truck."
The APC's turret snapped down and fired a short burst into the truck's front wheel assembly—controlled, not panicked. Rubber exploded. The truck's nose dipped and slewed sideways, momentum shoving it into the shed's corner with a metallic shriek. The impact rattled the conduit box on the wall and made the fuel pump lines shudder.
Mara's tablet chirped again—another outgoing burst, fast and encrypted.
"Second transmission," she said tightly, crouched by the open conduit box, fingers flying over her module. "Same waveform family. Mobile relay is close—very close."
Kel's gaze flicked once to the man in the dark coat.
"Mr. Coda" stood five meters away, perfectly still, watching the chaos like it was expected. Like it was his plan playing out, just not perfectly.
He smiled—small, controlled—and stepped back again, sliding behind the shed line as if he'd never been there.
Kel keyed comms. "Sienna. He's moving."
Sienna's voice came back instantly, breath audible. "Tracking. Visual on dark coat—west shed line. He's calm. Too calm."
"Don't engage," Kel said. "Stay with him. Tell me where he goes."
"Copy."
Kel took two steps toward the disabled truck. Hess's men were already moving—professional, quick, weapons up but not sprayed. The passenger door of the truck swung open and a man in work coveralls spilled out like he'd been thrown, not like he'd chosen to exit. He rolled, came up with a pistol, tried to aim—
Hess's security tackled him into the concrete.
The second man tried to climb out the driver's side window.
Kel's voice didn't rise. "Don't kill him."
Hess grunted, almost annoyed by the restraint, but his men obeyed. A stun baton cracked. The driver stiffened and went down hard, face scraping across concrete.
Mara stood, shoulders tense, holding her tablet tight to her chest. The wind tugged at the loose strand of hair near her cheek, and she tucked it behind her ear automatically, eyes never leaving the conduit box and the truck.
"I have it," she said. "The relay is in that cab. That's the only way the burst is this clean without yard infrastructure."
Kel nodded once. "Pull it."
Hess glared. "You want to—"
Kel looked at him, calm enough to make the argument feel wasteful. "Now."
Hess spat a curse and waved his men off the driver's door. "Pop it."
A security tech pried open the cab compartment.
Inside was not a toolbox.
It was equipment.
A compact transmitter with a directional antenna folded flat against the interior wall. A power cell pack strapped in with quick-release clips. Two more encrypted chips in a foam-lined case. And a set of plastic ID badges that looked like Vantrell—almost perfect, except the edges were too new, the laminate too clean.
Mara leaned in, eyes narrowing. "That's not raider gear."
Kel's voice stayed even. "No."
Hess's jaw worked. "That's a grab team."
Kel nodded once. "And Coda was their handler."
Mara's module chirped as she connected to the transmitter, fingers steady now that she had something physical to dominate. "I can ride this," she murmured. "If Coda pings again, I can trace his mobile receiver. He's using this as a node."
Kel watched the shed line where the dark coat had vanished. "He wanted you to see the receiver," he said quietly. "He expected you to react. He wanted this lane busy."
Hess frowned. "Why?"
Kel didn't answer immediately. He didn't guess out loud. He waited for the next piece.
Sienna's voice cut in, low and fast. "Kel. Dark coat is moving toward the north service road. There's a second vehicle waiting. Unmarked. He's getting in."
Kel's gaze sharpened. "Plate?"
"Covered," Sienna replied. "But I got the silhouette and heat signature. It's not a yard truck. It's… executive transport. Smooth ride. Quiet."
Kel's voice remained steady. "Stay with it as long as you can. Don't overextend."
There was a pause, then Sienna, softer: "Copy."
Kel heard the change. The way she said it like she was trying to sound professional—and failing, because she wanted to impress him and didn't know how to do that without slipping into teasing.
He filed it away and focused on the immediate.
Kel turned to Hess. "Where's Frey."
"In custody," Hess said. "Back in the office."
"Good." Kel looked at the stunned driver on the ground. "Bring him too. Alive."
Hess's eyes narrowed. "You planning an interrogation like you're some House intel?"
Kel's answer was calm, almost gentle. "I'm planning to understand what's hunting us."
---
TSD: 3049-10-04 — Local: 14:06
Galatea, Galatea System — Continental Route 7 (Service Yard Prefab Office / Internal Security Room)
They used a different prefab—one with no windows and thicker walls. Less comfort, more truth.
The grab team driver sat in a metal chair with his hands bound. His coveralls were clean in the wrong places—no oil in the seams, no long-term grime in the knees. His boots had the wrong tread for yard work. His face was blank with training, but his eyes kept flicking toward Mara's tablet like he was afraid of the data more than the people.
Frey sat in the corner, shaking, looking like he'd aged a decade since morning.
Hess stood by the door, arms crossed. Two guards watched the grab team man without blinking.
Mara set her tablet on a table and connected the recovered transmitter node with a cable. Her jacket was unzipped again, braid loosened, a few strands fallen free—she didn't notice. Her focus made her look dangerous in a quiet way.
Kel stood across from the grab team man, posture relaxed. Coat still plain. Face still average. Presence still heavy.
"What's your name," Kel asked.
Silence.
Kel didn't threaten. Didn't raise his voice. He just waited.
The man's jaw flexed. "I'm not authorized—"
Kel interrupted softly. "You don't have authorization anymore."
A beat of silence.
The man's eyes narrowed. "You're a merc."
"Yes," Kel said. "And you're not a raider."
Another beat.
Kel continued, calm. "You came for something. It's not the receiver. That was a tool. What's the package."
The man didn't answer.
Mara tapped her screen once. "Your transmitter has a label," she said. "Not a name. A job tag."
She turned the tablet slightly so he could see.
NODE: KJ-118 / PACKAGE MONITOR
The man's eyelid flickered.
Kel saw it.
"Package monitor," Kel repeated. "Not convoy monitor. Not cargo monitor."
Hess's voice came rough. "So it's one item."
Mara's eyes stayed on her screen. "Or one person."
Frey made a small sound—half sob, half inhale.
Kel looked at Frey. "They didn't come for you," he said, calm certainty. "You're a loose end. Not a prize."
Frey's shoulders sagged with relief that looked like shame.
Kel returned his attention to the grab team man. "Tell me what it is," Kel said. "And you walk out with your teeth."
Hess scoffed. "Mercenary mercy."
Kel didn't look away from the captive. "It's not mercy. It's a transaction."
The man swallowed. His trained blankness cracked by a hairline.
He finally spoke. "It's a crate," he said.
Mara's stylus paused.
Kel's voice stayed level. "Which crate."
The man exhaled through his nose, like he hated himself for answering. "Trailer twelve. Midline. The one that got disabled in the first ambush."
Everything snapped into place cleanly in Kel's mind.
The midline truck had been hit first—precision. Disable it. Stop it. Expose it. The raiders hadn't tried to slaughter the convoy. They'd tried to create a window.
A package window.
Kel's voice was calm. "What's in the crate."
The man's jaw tightened. "Don't know. Sealed. Priority tag. Not ours to open."
Mara's fingers moved again. "Priority tag from who."
The man hesitated, then said quietly, "The handler."
"Mr. Coda," Mara murmured.
The man didn't deny it.
Hess's face darkened. "That crate isn't on my standard manifest."
Kel turned his head slightly toward Hess. "Then it's a blind cargo insertion."
Hess cursed, finally loud. "Vantrell doesn't—"
Mara cut in without looking up. "Vantrell absolutely does. Companies hide high-value cargo all the time. They just don't expect it to turn into gunfire."
Kel looked back at the captive. "Why not steal the whole trailer."
The man's mouth tightened. "Too visible. Too slow. They wanted the crate transferred at a controlled point. They needed the convoy stopped."
Kel nodded once. "So your job is to make the convoy stop."
"Or make it… separate," the man said.
Kel's eyes narrowed. "Separate where."
The man looked at Kel for the first time with something like respect—or fear that smelled like respect. "Route 7 has a narrow cut eight klicks ahead," he said. "Old rock face. One-lane choke if something blocks it."
Kel didn't react with surprise.
He simply asked, "Time."
The man hesitated. Then: "Before dusk."
Mara's tablet chimed softly—an incoming ping on the recovered node.
Mara's head lifted. "Kel. I have a query."
Kel's gaze didn't move. "From who."
Mara swallowed. "The node is being checked. Someone is seeing if it's still alive."
Kel's voice stayed calm. "Trace it."
Mara's fingers flew. "It's not stationary," she said. "Mobile receiver. Moving north—same direction Sienna reported."
Kel nodded once. "Coda."
Mara's breath came shallow. "Yes."
Kel turned to Hess. "We finish the contract," he said. "But we change the rules."
Hess stared. "You're going to put my convoy into another ambush?"
Kel's tone remained polite. "I'm going to put your convoy into a trap."
Mara's eyes flicked to Kel. "We can do it," she said. Then, after a beat, more quietly, "If you control the message."
Kel nodded once. "I will."
He looked at the captive. "You're going to help," Kel said.
The man stiffened. "I—"
Kel's voice didn't rise. "You can help or you can sit in a cell while we still win. The difference is whether you walk out later."
A long silence.
Then the man said, bitterly, "What do you need."
Kel's answer was simple. "Tell Coda what he expects to hear."
---
TSD: 3049-10-04 — Local: 14:38
Galatea, Galatea System — Continental Route 7 (Convoy Perimeter / Zeus Position)
Kel returned to the Zeus like a man returning to a blade he trusted.
Tessa met him at the leg plating with a sensor patch and a wrench tucked into her belt. She'd changed again—coveralls zipped higher this time, collar open just enough to show the edge of her tank, sleeves rolled. Her hair was in a tight bun again, practical and severe, like she was trying to put a lid on her own exhaustion.
She looked up at Kel, eyes searching his face for news.
Kel didn't give her chaos. He gave her structure.
"Tessa," he said. "We have a priority crate in trailer twelve. Someone wants it. They'll try to separate it at a choke point before dusk."
Tessa's expression tightened. "So the convoy's the bait."
Kel nodded once. "Only if we let it be."
He watched her swallow. Watched the way she tried to be brave in the face of new danger.
Then he said, calm: "I need you to help me move the package."
Tessa blinked. "Move it?"
"Yes."
She hesitated. "Kel, we're under salvage limitations—"
"We're not stealing," Kel said evenly. "We're protecting. We reposition inside the convoy so the ambush hits where we want it."
Tessa exhaled hard, then nodded. "Okay," she said. "Okay. Tell me what you need."
Kel's voice stayed calm. "Can you swap trailer tags and transponder signatures."
Tessa's mouth parted. "That's… illegal."
Kel held her gaze. "It's controlled."
Tessa stared at him for a long beat, then gave a small, sharp nod that looked like surrender to a commander she trusted.
"I can do it," she said. "If Mara gives me the data."
Kel nodded once. "She will."
Tessa's cheeks were flushed—part bay heat, part nerves. She rubbed the back of her neck, then looked away too quickly, like she'd realized she was reacting to him too much.
Kel didn't press. He didn't tease.
He simply said, "Good work. And thank you."
Tessa froze for half a second—like those words hit harder than danger.
Then she ducked under the Zeus's leg with her wrench like it was safer than being seen.
Kel turned, calm, and keyed comms.
"Mara. I need a transponder swap plan. Two trailers. Trailer twelve becomes decoy. Real package moves."
Mara answered instantly, professional. "Copy. I'll generate a mirrored signature. Clean enough to fool anyone who isn't Coda."
Kel said, "That's the point. I want Coda to commit."
He keyed again. "Sienna. Report."
Sienna's voice came back, and there was a breath in it—like she'd been holding tension in her chest and didn't know how to release it. "He's moving with the mobile receiver vehicle. North service road. He's not going far. He's… circling."
Kel's tone stayed steady. "You did well."
There was a pause.
Then Sienna's voice, smaller than usual: "Thanks."
Kel could almost picture her—long limbs in a light cockpit, hair half-tamed, fingers hovering over controls, heart beating too fast. She'd flirted like it was armor, but under it she was nineteen, alone in a machine, trying to matter.
Kel didn't let the moment become romance. He made it leadership.
"Stay disciplined," he said. "If you lose him, you fall back. You don't chase."
Sienna hesitated, then: "Copy."
Another pause, then she added—too quickly—"Also, uh… I'm not used to people saying that."
Kel's voice remained calm. "Saying what."
"…That I did well," she admitted.
Kel didn't smile into the mic. He didn't embarrass her. He just said, steady and simple, "Get used to it."
Silence.
Then a soft, almost startled laugh from Sienna. "Copy," she said again—quieter, warmer, awkward in a way she didn't know how to hide.
Kel cut comms and looked toward the road.
The trap was moving now. The convoy would roll, the decoy would be visible, and the real package would be buried where the ambush couldn't easily reach it.
Mara would ride the recovered node and trace Coda's receiver the moment he committed.
Sienna would screen the flanks and keep eyes on the handler.
Hess's men would do what they were told and try not to ruin it with panic.
Kel would anchor the kill zone—not with bravado, not with heroics, but with the simple certainty of an assault 'Mech placed correctly.
He climbed into the Zeus.
Neurohelmet on. Straps tightened. The cockpit sealed around him like a vow.
"Convoy," Mara's voice came over the net, crisp again. "We're rolling in five."
Kel's reply was calm. "Roll."
---
TSD: 3049-10-04 — Local: 15:12
Galatea, Galatea System — Continental Route 7 (Rolling Toward Choke Cut / 8 km Out)
The convoy moved again—tighter, quieter, more dangerous.
Trailer twelve rode where it had always ridden—midline, visible, exactly where an attacker would expect it.
Except it wasn't trailer twelve anymore.
Not really.
Kel watched the road ahead through sensor overlays. The choke cut waited out there like a mouth in rock. One lane. High walls. A perfect place for a "routine breakdown" that forced a convoy to stop and a package to become reachable.
Kel's calm didn't crack.
He didn't need luck.
He needed timing.
And somewhere ahead, Mr. Coda was going to learn what happened when you tried to hunt a wolf… and the wolf decided to set the trap.
---