Chapter 102: The Rift
The council murmured in agreement, and the room stirred as aides hurried to relay Cassian's orders. Alaric rose from his seat, maintaining an air of focused urgency, though his thoughts were elsewhere.
As the others busied themselves with their tasks, he slipped into a quiet alcove. Activating his quantum link, he ensured the line was secure before speaking.
"The outpost is falling. Their defenses are collapsing faster than anticipated."
"Good," Alaric replied, his voice low. "Make sure it looks like the Dominion's work. Burn their insignia into the wreckage, leave traces of their tech—anything to point the blame their way."
There was a pause, the faint hum of static filling the silence. Then the voice returned. "Understood. But there's something else. The Thalassia Rift... it's unstable. Ships are vanishing. No debris, no signals."
Alaric's brow furrowed, his mind racing. "Vanishing? How many?"
"Enough to raise alarms. Our contacts say the Erythian Division has been sniffing around the area too. If they find what we're looking for before we do..."
Alaric cut him off, his tone sharp. "Then make sure they don't. Send a team—quietly. If there's something out there worth exploiting, I want to know about it."
The voice hesitated, then replied, "It's risky. The rift's unpredictable. If we lose another ship—"
"We don't have a choice," Alaric snapped, his patience thinning. "If the rift holds what we think it does, it could change everything."
As he ended the call, Alaric returned to the council chamber, where Cassian was outlining a strategy to secure the outpost.