The silence in the command center was not peaceful. It was the kind of silence that usually precedes a hull breach or a very awkward conversation.
Ragia sat in his chair, trying to look like a Captain who had everything under control, but he was failing miserably.
He could feel the weight of the pen in his pocket, the one that could rewrite reality, burning a hole through the fabric of his jacket.
But right now.
Not even a magic pen could rewrite the tension radiating from the woman standing in front of him.
Raya… was holding something.
It was not a weapon. It was not a datapad. It was a small, black sphere, no larger than a tennis ball. It hovered above her palm, suspended by a localized gravity field she had likely whipped up in her lab five minutes ago.
"Explain," Ragia said, leaning forward.
"The object was retrieved from the wreckage of the Gyra," Raya stated. Her voice was clinical, devoid of the emotional baggage that everyone else seemed to be carrying.
"I extracted it from the central neural cluster of the ship. Initially, I assumed it was a biological component. A control node for the hive mind."
"But it is not," Ragia guessed.
"Incorrect," Raya corrected him, adjusting her glasses. "It is entirely synthetic. And the craftsmanship is distinctly human."
She tapped the side of the sphere. The black surface shimmered, catching the artificial light of the bridge.
"I ran a spectrographic analysis," Raya continued. "The material is carbon-based. Specifically, it is a high-density carbon lattice formed under extreme pressure and heat. It is a diamond, Capt. A black diamond."
Ragia frowned. He looked at the sphere, then he looked at his own left hand. He looked at the ring on his finger.
It was a black band. Simple, elegant, and made of the exact same material.
"Mars," Ragia whispered.
"Precisely," Raya nodded. "The isotopic signature matches the geological profile of the Pompeii mines on Mars. It is the same material used in your wedding band."
Ragia felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine. He reached out and took the sphere from the air. It felt heavy.
Cold.
It didn't feel like a piece of alien technology. It felt like a piece of home, and not the good kind of home.
"You have seen this before," Raya said. It was not a question.
"I have," Ragia admitted. He turned the sphere over in his hands. "But not on a Krall ship. I saw it on a desk. A very expensive mahogany desk."
"Look closer, Capt," Raya instructed. "There is an inscription. Micro-etched into the surface."
Ragia squinted. He didn't need to look closely. He knew what was there. He ran his thumb over the smooth surface until he felt the slight indentation.
A symbol.
A crescent moon with jagged, stylized wings, forming the shape of the letter G.
"Ganaché," Ragia breathed.
Let me clarify something for you.
You might think you know about Mars. You think of red dust, domes, and military bases.
But…
You do not know about the money. You do not know about the Ganaché family.
They are the aristocracy of the Red Planet. They own the mines in Pompeii. They own the orbital shipyards. They own the air filtration systems that keep half the colonies breathing. If Reagalus is the sword that protects humanity, the Ganaché family is the wallet that buys the whetstone.
They are the single largest donor to the High Council.
"A noble crest," Raya observed. "Inside a Krall warship. The implications are statistically concerning."
"It means they are involved," Ragia said, his voice hardening. "It means someone paid for that Gyra."
"Someone human."
He looked at Iya.
She was standing by the tactical station, her arms crossed, her face a mask of stone.
She knew.
Of course she knew. She was the only one who knew everything.
"I need to tell you something," Ragia said, addressing the room but looking only at her. "Something I have kept buried since the day I walked out of the Tartarus Block."
"We are listening, Capt," Tonix said from the helm.
She had turned her chair around, her eyes wide. She was still reeling from the revelation about the pen, and now she was getting a dose of political intrigue.
Ragia placed the black sphere on the console. It sat there like a dark accusation.
"Two years ago," Ragia began, his voice low. "When I was arrested. When Vexal threw me in that hole and threw away the key."
"And my father... Liquida Quarso... he pulled strings. He threatened people. He used his rank. That is the official story. That is what Reagalus wants you to believe. That the Supreme Commander saved his wayward son."
He paused, looking at the symbol on the sphere.
"But that is not the whole truth. My father is powerful, but even he cannot override a Council decree fueled by fear. I didn't get out just because of nepotism. I got out because someone paid a bribe."
"A bribe?" Raya asked, her eyebrow arching. "To the High Council?"
"To the judges," Ragia corrected. "To Vexal. To the wardens. It was a massive sum. Enough credits to terraform a moon.
"And it came from a private account."
He took a deep breath.
"The money came from the Ganaché family," Ragia confessed. "Specifically, from the matriarch. She paid for my freedom. She bought my life when the Council wanted to dissect me."
"Vallendina," Iya said.
The name hung in the air like smoke.
Vallendina Ganaché.
Ragia nodded. "Yes. Vallendina."
Iya let out a laugh.
It was a sharp, bitter sound that had no humor in it. She walked over to the console, picking up the sphere and examining the crest with disdain.
"Of course," Iya sneered. "It always comes back to her, doesn't it?
"The great Vallendina. The benefactor."
She looked at Ragia, her eyes flashing with a sudden, intense anger.
"She paid for your freedom," Iya spat. "She bribed the guards to get you out of prison. She saved your life."
"She did," Ragia said quietly.
"But she wouldn't come to your wedding," Iya countered, her voice rising. "When we got married on the Moon... when we invited the entire galaxy to see that we survived... she didn't show up. She sent a gift. She sent a card."
"But… she didn't come."
Iya threw the sphere back onto the console. It spun wildly, the G blurring into a grey circle.
"Why, Ragia?" Iya demanded. "Was it because of me? Was it because the great Ganaché family couldn't bear to see their investment marry a Melito?"
"A former Ronin? Am I too dirty for her? Is my blood not blue enough?"
"It is not about you, Iya," Ragia said, standing up. He reached out to her, but she stepped back.
"It feels like it is about me," Iya hissed. "She saves you when you are a victim. But when you are happy? When you choose a life she didn't pick for you? She vanishes."
"She sends black diamonds and excuses."
"She is busy," Ragia argued, though his defense sounded weak even to his own ears. "She runs half the economy of Mars. She is... complicated. She is cold. You know that. They call her the Ice Queen of Mars for a reason."
"I am the Ice Queen," Iya snapped. "She is just a snob."
"She bought the rings!" Ragia shouted, pointing at the black band on Iya's finger. "She sent the diamonds from her own private mine!"
"Does that sound like someone who hates you? She gave us the symbol of our marriage!"
"She gave us rocks!" Iya yelled back. "I wanted her presence! I wanted respect! If she cares about you so much, why does she treat us like a secret shame?"
"Because she has to!" Ragia roared.
He slammed his hand on the console. The sphere jumped.
"Do you think it is easy for her?" Ragia asked, his chest heaving. "Do you think she can just walk into a room with me and pretend everything is normal?"
"Do you think the Council would let her?"
He looked at Tonix.
He looked at Raya.
Then he looked up, directly at the ceiling, as if he could see through the hull of the ship and stare into the face of… me.
"You want to know why she bribed them?" Ragia asked. "You want to know why she cares? You want to know why the head of the Ganaché family risked treason to get a biological weapon out of jail?"
He looked back at Iya. His eyes were pleading.
"It is not because I am an investment, Iya. It is not because she is a philanthropist."
"Then what is it?" Iya whispered. "Tell them, Ragia. Tell the crew. Tell them who she really is."
Ragia sighed.
He slumped back into his chair. He looked tired. The weight of the secret he had been carrying for years seemed to crush him.
"Vallendina Ganaché," Ragia said softly. "The woman who bribed the Council. The woman who owns the mines in Pompeii.
"The woman who bought our wedding rings."
He looked at Tonix.
"She is my mother."
The silence on the bridge was absolute.
Tonix dropped her stylus. It clattered on the floor, the sound echoing like a gunshot.
"What?" Tonix whispered.
I stared at him.
His mother?
Vallendina Ganaché is his mother?
That implies...
Wait.
Liquida Quarso and Vallendina Ganaché? The Supreme Commander of Earth Defense and the Matriarch of Martian Nobility?
"Your mother?" Tonix stammered, standing up. She looked at the empty air beside Ragia, looking directly at me.
Even though she still can't see me.
"Did you hear that? Did you know that?"
No!
I did not know that.
I knew Liquida was his father. Everyone knew that.
But…
His mother was always a mystery. A footnote. 'A tragic figure who died young' or 'a colony worker'.
But a Ganaché?
"She is not dead," Ragia muttered, rubbing his face. "She is just... divorced."
"They split when I was seven. It was a political marriage arranged by Reagalus. Fire and Ice. It didn't work. Obviously."
"So..." Tonix pointed a shaking finger at the black sphere. "Your mother... the richest woman on Mars... is possibly funding the Krall?"
Ragia looked at the sphere. The symbol of his mother's house stared back at him.
"That," Ragia said grimly. "Is what we are going to find out."