Krell dabbed the corner of his mouth with a silk napkin, folding it meticulously before setting it down on the crystalline table. His movements were deliberate, almost ceremonial, as if he savored the weight of his words as much as the meal itself. The dimmed glow of the overhead lights gleamed against the glass, casting subtle reflections of the cityscape below, where reconstruction efforts churned on tirelessly.
"I'll have Ashen Prime's top engineers dispatched to your ship within the hour," Krell said, his voice smooth as polished metal. "Expect full repairs, enhancements, and a few surprises... free of charge, of course." His eyes gleamed with restrained satisfaction, watching Ethan like a gambler holding a winning hand.
Ethan leaned back in his floating chair, fingers tapping absently against the armrest. He gave a small nod, barely acknowledging the offer. He had no doubt the upgrades would be top-tier, Ashen Prime's engineers were practically the best in the sector, known for turning battered freighters into war-ready juggernauts. But Ethan also knew better than to believe in free gifts. Nothing in this galaxy came without strings. He had paid a price for all of this.
"What kind of surprises?" Ethan asked, his voice low, testing the waters.
Krell chuckled softly, swirling the remnants of his Kynaran liquor. The aroma lingered, rich and fragrant, blending with the faint hum of the room's environmental systems. "Let's call it... adaptive enhancements. Integrated shield modulation, perhaps. Or upgraded stealth plating. Things that might give you an edge if you run into trouble out there." He paused, the cup resting against his lip. "Trouble seems to have a way of finding you, after all."
Ethan's jaw tightened, but he let the comment slide. He couldn't argue the truth of it.
"Additionally," Krell continued, setting his empty glass down with a faint clink, "you're welcome to visit Ashen Prime station before you leave the sector. It's a hub of innovation and quality in the Ashen sector, a floating fortress where the best manufacturers in the Orion Federation showcase some of their products in these forgotten parts of our nation." He spread his hands, palms up, like he was offering a treasure chest. "Cutting-edge weaponry, state-of-the-art tactical gear, experimental gadgets... all available to you at a discounted rate."
Ethan tilted his head, a sardonic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Generous."
"Practical," Krell corrected, the knowing smile never leaving his face. "You're a valuable asset, Ethan. Keeping you alive and well-equipped serves both our interests. The stronger you are, the stronger the symbol we've built together becomes."
Ethan studied Krell, searching for any flicker of insincerity beyond the obvious political maneuvering. But the governor's composure was airtight, every word measured, every expression calibrated. Ethan had to admit, the man was good at his job.
And maybe Ethan could use that to his advantage.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing his thumb along the scar on his knuckle. If they wanted to hand him better gear on a silver platter, he wasn't going to turn it down. But he'd keep his distance. Take what he needed, stay sharp, and keep one hand on the exit hatch.
The conversation tapered off as the final course arrived, the sharp edges of negotiation dulled by the promise of indulgence. The doors to the suite slid open soundlessly, and two hotel attendants stepped inside with the grace of dancers, their uniforms pristine, faces carefully neutral. They carried sleek silver trays that hovered just above their hands, the scent of roasted spices and caramelized fruit wafting through the room as they moved.
They placed the desserts on the table with delicate precision, intricate confections crafted like miniature sculptures. There were spiced honey cakes, their edges crisp and golden, topped with slivers of crystallized starfruit. Beside them, small bowls of lavender-glazed mousse shimmered under the dim light, garnished with violet petals that pulsed faintly with bioluminescence. Thin strands of spun sugar arched like fragile bridges across the plates, and a dark, viscous syrup native to Kynara's highlands pooled at the bottom, glinting like liquid obsidian.
The coffee came next, served in narrow cups with flared rims. The brew was nearly black, its surface swirling with faint trails of bronze and copper as the attendants poured with practiced ease. The aroma was intense, a blend of smoky earth and something subtly floral, with an underlying bite that lingered in the air. It was the kind of coffee that demanded attention, potent enough to banish exhaustion with a single sip.
Ethan stirred his cup with the tip of his spoon, watching the metallic ripples shift and settle. The bitterness burned across his tongue when he finally drank, a reminder that even pleasure carried its own kind of weight.
The hotel staff bowed slightly and departed without a word, the suite's doors sealing shut behind them with a faint hiss.
The meal ended in a surprisingly cordial atmosphere, the earlier tension ebbing into something that resembled mutual understanding. Not trust, but perhaps a grudging respect. They'd made their deal. Now they had to live with it.
Krell, ever the polished politician, stood first. He adjusted the cuff of his immaculate uniform, smoothing invisible creases with the care of a man who understood the power of appearance. "Well, Mr. Walker," he said, voice honeyed but laced with finality, "this has been... enlightening."
Ethan remained seated, fingers curled loosely around his half-empty cup. He watched as Krell's posture remained effortlessly composed, like a stage actor who never forgot he was performing. Captain Rhaegis Voelker, who had remained a quiet sentinel throughout the meeting, stood as well, sharp and ever-watchful. Outside the suite, Krell's aides waited with quiet efficiency, their muted chatter barely perceptible through the soundproofed glass. They'd been invisible for the duration of the meeting, leaving their datapads and comm devices untouched, ready to whisk Krell back to his waiting transport the moment he emerged.
Krell extended a hand across the crystalline table. His fingers were long, the nails neatly trimmed, skin soft in a way that spoke of a life removed from hardship. "Until next time," he said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, like he already knew there would be a next time.
Ethan hesitated, only for a fraction of a second, before clasping the governor's hand. His grip was firm, but brief. A handshake that neither invited nor lingered. "Yeah," he muttered, releasing Krell's hand like he couldn't stand the contact for longer than necessary. "We'll see."
Krell inclined his head, unbothered by the dismissal. He turned smoothly, striding toward the exit with Voelker falling into step beside him. The doors slid open, and his aides straightened instinctively, falling into formation without needing to be told.
Ethan leaned back in his floating chair as the shimmering doors sealed shut once more, the soft glow of the city sprawling out below like a broken constellation. He traced the rim of his cup with his thumb, the lingering bitterness of the coffee still biting at the back of his throat.
The deal was made. The lines were drawn.
Now all that was left was to hope none would cross them.