He Threw Himself Before a 9-Ton Ship to Save an Alien Child—Then Woke Up Surrounded by Elite Warrior

 

Tobias Renick had exactly three seconds to choose between self-preservation and absolute, physics-defying idiocy. Unfortunately, three seconds was far too much time for his brain to think and far too little for it to make a rational decision. Somewhere deep in the folds of his human cortex, a voice reminded him that humans were allegedly the smart species in the galaxy. But that thought evaporated as quickly as the breath in his lungs when he saw the calari child frozen on the docking platform below, wide-eyed and trembling, clutching a glowing crystal toy shaped like a tiny starship.

The cargo hauler barreling through Station Ethan Prime’s lower ring was nine tons of unstoppable machinery, a rusting beast with malfunctioning inertial dampeners that screamed through the air like a thunderclap. Its thrusters burned white-hot, scattering debris and gusts of recycled station air across the landing zone. Someone shouted, someone else ran, but the child didn’t move.

Toby didn’t remember deciding to run. He just did.

His boots pounded against the metal decking, the ground trembling beneath his feet. He saw the hauler’s lights flare, saw the panicked dockhands waving emergency flags too late, saw the child’s tiny body frozen in terror as the ship’s nose bore down like a charging beast.

And then the sound came—a hollow metallic roar that drowned out everything else as Toby dove.

The impact felt like getting tackled by an angry god. There was a crack—one that began in his ribs and echoed up through his spine—and then another as the air was punched clean out of his lungs. His arms locked around the child instinctively, curling protectively even as the hauler’s hull clipped him and sent both of them tumbling across the docking bay floor in a blur of pain and chaos.

Something in his chest snapped. Then something else.

For one brief, surreal instant, he thought about his mother’s warning from twenty years ago, back when he left Earth for a custodial contract on the outer colonies: “Toby, promise me you won’t do anything heroic. Heroes die. Janitors survive.”

So much for that.

The last thing he heard, before the void swallowed everything, was a soft, crystalline voice whispering, “Mr. Human, why?”

It might have been the child. It might have been his own brain collapsing into poetic nonsense. Either way, it was a perfectly fair question.

When Tobias Renick regained consciousness, he regretted it immediately.

Pain introduced itself like an old friend, starting somewhere behind his eyes and radiating outward until his entire body felt like a badly wired circuit board. His chest burned. His arms felt like molten lead. His ribs made a sound—tiny and sharp—every time he breathed too deeply.

He tried to move, but his limbs refused to cooperate. Something beeping nearby scolded him for the attempt.

It took a long, shuddering moment for his vision to resolve from swirling gray static into actual shapes. Ceiling lights. Sleek, unfamiliar architecture. The faint hum of machines that didn’t sound like anything from the dockyard medbays he knew.

Toby blinked. Once. Twice. The light stabbed through his skull like a dagger made of pure electricity.

He was lying on a medical platform—though “medical” felt like an understatement. The surfaces gleamed with an almost liquid sheen. Transparent panels flickered with faint blue runes that seemed to shift and rearrange as he stared. Tubes of faintly glowing fluid fed into his arm. The air smelled sterile but not chemical—more like ozone and rain.

His head turned slowly, neck muscles trembling under the effort. He caught sight of his reflection in one of the polished metal walls.

He looked terrible. Pale. Bruised. Covered in what appeared to be a network of thin, silver threads that pulsed faintly beneath the skin. He didn’t remember tattoos that glowed.

A noise drew his attention—a low, rhythmic hum, almost like breathing but deeper, heavier.

Toby’s hand twitched instinctively toward his side, where his work ID badge usually hung. It wasn’t there. His coveralls were gone too, replaced by a thin, flexible material that felt like silk and gauze blended together.

His heart started hammering. He tried to speak but the first sound that escaped his throat was an embarrassing croak.

Then movement—three shapes gliding into his field of vision with the silence of predators.

They weren’t human.

The first thing he noticed was the height—easily seven feet tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in armor that looked like it had been forged from starlight itself. Each plate shimmered faintly with iridescent color, dark blues and metallic grays shifting with their movements. The figures carried themselves with the deliberate grace of people who knew exactly how dangerous they were.

The second thing he noticed was the eyes.

They glowed faintly—each pair a different hue, not from any visible light source but from within. Gold, violet, deep green. Their pupils were elongated like a cat’s, contracting slightly when the nearest one leaned closer to study him.

The air changed around them, thicker somehow, charged with an energy that prickled across Toby’s skin.

“Subject is conscious,” one of them said in a voice that was both melodic and mechanical, as if translated through an unseen filter. “Stabilization complete.”

Toby blinked at the speaker. He’d met dozens of alien species during his five years working station maintenance on the outer rim, but nothing like this. Their presence was overwhelming, their silence more unnerving than any shouted question could have been.

His throat worked, dry and hesitant. “Where—where am I?” he rasped.

The one who had spoken tilted their head, studying him with a calmness that felt almost clinical. “You are aboard The Valiant Dawn, flagship of the Avar Dominion,” they said.

That meant nothing to him. His head still rang from the memory of the crash, his body still ached from impact, and now he was apparently on a ship that didn’t exist on any registry he knew.

He swallowed. “There’s been… a mistake. I’m just a janitor.”

The word janitor seemed to ripple through the group like a foreign concept. One of them made a soft sound, almost like a laugh, though it was hard to tell.

Another figure—taller, with a crest of faintly glowing patterns running down their temples—stepped closer. “You are Tobias Renick,” they said. “Station records confirm your identity. Human male. Civilian worker, Dock Ring 3, maintenance sector.”

“Right,” Toby muttered. “So… you found me. Great. You can, uh, drop me back off at the station now. I’ll just—” He gestured vaguely, immediately regretting it when pain shot through his arm. “—I’ll mop something. Maybe file an incident report.”

The three exchanged a glance that communicated far too much without words.

Finally, the one with the violet eyes spoke. “You sustained severe trauma protecting the heir of Calari Prime.”

Toby froze.

“The—what?”

“The child,” the alien said simply. “The one you shielded from the hauler impact. She lives because of you.”

Memory flickered like static—small hands clutching a glowing crystal, the blinding white of thrusters, the sound of his bones cracking like old wood. He swallowed hard.

“She’s okay?”

“She is unharmed,” the alien said. “She has asked to see you when you are able.”

Something in Toby’s chest loosened—a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Good,” he murmured. “That’s good.”

For a moment, silence hung between them, heavy but not hostile. Then the tall one straightened, his expression unreadable.

“You are fortunate,” he said. “Few survive collision with a hauler, even fewer in open dock. The medics reconstructed forty-three percent of your skeletal structure.”

“Reconstructed?” Toby echoed, alarm spiking through the fog of painkillers.

The alien inclined his head slightly. “Your injuries required extensive augmentation. The Avar healers chose the most efficient course available.”

Toby’s gaze dropped to the faintly glowing threads running beneath his skin. His fingers trembled. “Augmentation,” he repeated weakly. “You mean I’m—”

But the word never came. The violet-eyed warrior stepped closer, their expression shifting from detached professionalism to something almost reverent.

“You are not as you were, Tobias Renick,” they said softly. “You are something more.”

He stared at them, heart pounding, mind whirling with questions he couldn’t form fast enough to ask.

The hum of machinery deepened around him, a rhythm like a heartbeat echoing through the floor. Somewhere beyond the walls, a low, resonant chime rang out—an unfamiliar signal, urgent but measured. The warriors turned their heads toward the sound, their posture shifting.

Toby tried to speak, but his throat failed him again. The air felt heavier now, electric with the promise of something vast moving just beyond his comprehension.

Whatever this was—wherever he was—it wasn’t over.

And as the violet-eyed figure regarded him once more, their expression unreadable, Tobias Renick finally understood one thing with absolute certainty.

He might have thrown himself in front of a nine-ton ship to save a child. But whatever he had woken up in the middle of now—this, this was something far bigger than heroism. Something that had only just begun.

Continue below

 

 

 

Tobias Renick had exactly three seconds to decide between self-preservation and catastrophic stupidity, which wasn’t nearly enough time to remember that humans were supposedly the smart species. The cargo hauler screaming through station Ethan Prime’s lower docking ring massed 9 tons, had malfunctioning inertial dampeners, and was absolutely not going to stop before it obliterated the small calari child frozen in its path.

 Glutching what appeared to be a toy starship made of bioluminescent crystal, Toby’s brain helpfully calculated the physics of his own demise in the half second before his legs betrayed his survival instincts entirely and launched him forward. The impact felt like getting hugged by a freight train traveling at terminal velocity.

 Something in Toby’s chest made a sound like a tree branch snapping, followed immediately by several more branches joining in sympathetic fracture, and then his entire skeleton decided to file a formal complaint with whatever deity governed janitors who made spectacularly poor life choices. The hauler’s hull was cold and unforgiving, the kind of surface that transmitted kinetic energy with enthusiastic efficiency, and Toby’s body discovered approximately 17 new ways to experience pain before his consciousness politely excused itself from the situation entirely. The last thing he

heard before the darkness swallowed him was a small crystalline voice saying something that sounded like, “Mr. Human, why?” but might have been his brain shortcircuiting. Either way, it seemed like a reasonable question to ask someone who just decided that 32 years of existence weren’t quite enough, and that becoming a human-shaped impact cushion sounded like an excellent Tuesday afternoon activity.

 waking up hurt in ways Toby hadn’t previously thought possible, which was saying something considering his resume included accidentally drank cleaning solution, thinking it was sports beverage, and tried to pet what turned out to be a highly territorial space raccoon. This was different. This was bones remembering they’d been rearranged by nine tons of uncaring physics and muscles filing collective complaints about their new incorrect positions.

 His eyelids felt like they’d been replaced with industrial-grade sandpaper, and somewhere in his peripheral awareness, machines beeped with the kind of rhythmic persistence that suggested they were either keeping him alive or monitoring his descent into mortality with scientific curiosity. When his vision finally cooperated enough to produce something other than abstract paincoled shapes, Toby discovered three things in rapid succession.

 First, he wasn’t dead, which seemed like an oversight given the circumstances. Second, he was shirtless and covered in what appeared to be translucent bandages that glowed faintly blue, which raised questions about alien medical technology, and also about who’d removed his shirt and whether they judged his absolute lack of abdominal definition.

 Third, and most immediately concerning, there were three absolutely massive alien women sharing his bed. Not near his bed, not standing beside his bed, in his bed, on his bed, occupying the same horizontal surface upon which he was attempting to process consciousness, and also maybe several fractured ribs. The closest one had skin that seemed to shift between deep azure and silver depending on how the light hit it, covered in what looked like natural armor plating that suggested her species had evolved on a planet where everything tried to eat everything else. Her eyes

were the color of mercury, reflective and unreadable, and she was studying Toby with the kind of intense focus usually reserved for bomb disposal or particularly challenging puzzles. Her armor pieces, intricate metallic segments etched with glowing runes, were stacked neatly on a nearby chair, which meant she was currently wearing what appeared to be form-fitting under arour that left very little to the imagination regarding her species approach to physical fitness.

 The second warrior sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed. Her skin a rich copper tone traced with luminous tattoos that pulsed gently with what might have been her heartbeat or possibly her species version of screen saver mode. She was adjusting something on her wrist that looked like a blade but folded out of a bracer with the kind of casual familiarity that suggested extreme violence was a Tuesday activity.

 Her hair, if it was hair, moved independently of any breeze, floating around her head like she was underwater or defying gravity out of spite. The third warrior had positioned herself closest to Toby’s side, almost protectively, and her eyes caught the ambient light from the medical chamber’s bioluminescent walls and reflected it back in shades of green and gold that definitely weren’t human.

 Her features were more angular than her companions, with high cheekbones that could probably cut glass, and a jawline that suggested her species took bone density very seriously. She was watching him with an expression that seemed suspended somewhere between respect and amusement, like he’d done something simultaneously impressive and monumentally stupid. He wakes, the copper skinned warrior said, and her voice had harmonics to it, like she was speaking in multiple frequencies at once. Irix, you owe Kale Shara 20 credits.

 He survived, the mercury warrior responded, her tone suggesting this was a technicality. The wager was about consciousness, not survival. Consciousness is subjective. Winter, please tell your battle sister that consciousness requires observable brain activity, which he is now demonstrating. Iri said, still adjusting her wristblade without looking up.

 The warrior closest to Toby, apparently named Winter, tilted her head. He appears confused. This is normal for humans who have recently experienced significant physical trauma and waking to find Valkcari warriors sharing their recovery bed. Are we sharing his bed? Kelshara asked. Or is he sharing ours? We were here first. We were guarding him, Winter corrected.

 We were taking shifts, Irex added, but then we all fell asleep. Exhaustion is not failure. Toby tried to speak and discovered his throat had apparently been replaced with sandpaper lined with broken glass. The sound that emerged was less what’s happening and more aggressive dying whale, which at least got their attention. Winter moved with speed that shouldn’t have been possible for someone her size, which Toby estimated at somewhere around 7 ft tall and built like she bench pressed starships for fun. A crystalline container appeared in her hand filled

with liquid that glowed faintly green, and she supported Toby’s head with surprising gentleness while tilting the container to his lips. Drink slowly. Your internal organs have been extensively repaired, but require calibration. The liquid tasted like mint combined with battery acid and regret, but it soothed his throat with almost instantaneous effect.

 Where? Toby managed, then paused to remember how words worked. Where am I? Medical ward 7 station Ethan Prime level three. Kyle Shara supplied. You have been unconscious for 4 days, 6 hours, and approximately 18 minutes. The medical synthesizers had to rebuild 17% of your skeletal structure, repair catastrophic damage to six major organs and convince your liver that it wished to remain inside your body rather than attempting relocation through your chest cavity.

The child, Toby croked, the calari child. Is she safe? All three warriors said simultaneously, then glanced at each other with what might have been embarrassment. Irix gestured toward the doorway where a small figure was peeking around the frame. The calari child couldn’t have been more than five or six by human standards with large eyes that dominated her delicate features and skin that seemed to shimmer between lavender and pale blue.

 She was clutching the same bioluminescent toy starship Toby had seen before 9 tons of cargo hauler had introduced his spine to the concept of compression. Pip has visited you every day. I said she believes you are a hero from ancient stories. I’m a janitor. Toby said which seemed important to clarify. You are a janitor who threw yourself in front of a cargo hauler to save a child you did not know from a species you had never encountered. Winter said, “This is the definition of warrior courage.

 We have been honored to guard your recovery.” “Guarding me,” Toby repeated slowly, his brain still processing at approximately half speed due to what he suspected were very powerful medications. “Why would I need guarding? And why are you guarding me from inside my bed? The three warriors exchanged glances that suggested this was either complicated or embarrassing, possibly both.

 Kyle Shara finally spoke, her tone suggesting she was choosing words carefully. Pip’s family is not without influence. When word spread of your sacrifice, several factions attempted to claim credit for your training, your employment, your very existence. The council of Ethan Prime appointed us, the triad of the scarred moon, to ensure your protection until you could speak for yourself.

 And we were initially guarding you from outside the medical chamber, Winter added. But then Irix fell asleep standing and fell directly onto Kale Shara, which created a cascade effect. Um, that cascade included knocking over two equipment carts and somehow activating the chamber’s emergency lockdown, Kyle Shara said dryly. By the time medical staff overrode the system, we had already determined that the recovery bed was sufficiently large to accommodate all four of us, and that our combined body heat would potentially aid in your healing. “You were cold,” I said defensively. Humans maintain inefficient

core temperatures. It seemed logical. Toby tried to process this information while simultaneously trying not to think about the fact that he was currently in bed with three alien warriors who could probably bench press him with their eyelids. His body chose this moment to remind him that he’d been extensively rebuilt by alien medical technology, sending cascading waves of discomfort through his torso that made him inhale sharply. Winter’s hand was on his shoulder immediately, steady and warm.

The synthesizers provided pain management, but we were instructed to allow some discomfort to prevent you from attempting movement before your bone matrix has fully calcified. You must remain stationary for at least another 48 hours. I need to contact my supervisor, Toby said, which was possibly the least important thing he could have mentioned.

 But his brain was apparently committed to processing problems in completely backward order. I’ve been missing for 4 days. They’ve probably already hired my replacement. Do you know how competitive janitorial positions are on trade stations? I spent 3 months applying before I got this job. Your supervisor, Kyle Shara said in a tone that suggested significant events had transpired. Visited you twice.

 The second visit concluded with her requesting that medical staff inform you upon waking that your position has been elevated to station safety coordinator with a commensurate increase in compensation and benefits. Toby blinked. I’m sorry.

 What? Apparently, your act of sacrifice highlighted several critical failures in the station’s cargo handling protocols, Irix explained, still fiddling with her wristblade. There have been nine similar incidents in the past cycle, none resulting in casualties only because the intended victims possessed faster reflexes or better survival instincts than small children.

 Your supervisor viewed your injury as an opportunity to implement comprehensive safety reforms while also promoting the human who nearly died, highlighting the problems. So, I got a promotion for almost getting killed. Apparently, this is standard human management strategy. Kyle Shara said, “We find it confusing, but respect your species commitment to learning through catastrophic failure.

” Somewhere in the medical chamber, machinery beeped with increased urgency, and a holographic display materialized near Toby’s head, showing what appeared to be his vital signs translated into a language he couldn’t read. Winter studied it with a frown. Your heart rate is elevated. Are you experiencing distress? I’m in bed with three heavily armed alien warriors. I don’t know.

 I’ve apparently been unconscious for 4 days while people argued over me like I’m property. There’s a child staring at me from the doorway like I’m some kind of legend. And I just found out I got promoted for almost dying. Toby said, “I’m not distressed.

 I’m just trying to figure out if I’m actually awake or if this is some kind of medication induced hallucination.” If hallucination, we are very detailed. Irex observed. Kyle Shara has 73 individual armor plates, each etched with her combat history. I can describe them if you wish verification of consciousness. Please don’t, Toby said quickly. I believe you. I just need to understand what happens now.

 Do I just lie here for two more days while you all watch me sleep? We do not merely watch, Kelshara said, sounding slightly offended. We maintain perimeter security, monitor your recovery metrics, ensure appropriate nutrition delivery, and provide psychological support through conversational engagement. You were all asleep when I woke up, Toby pointed out. Silence.

 Then Winter said, “Guarding is exhausting. We were tired.” From the doorway, Pip made a sound like crystal bells chiming, which might have been laughter. She took three tentative steps into the chamber, her toy starship clutched to her chest like a talisman. Mr. Tobias is awake now. Yes, Pip can say thank you.

 All three warriors immediately shifted their posture, becoming somehow larger and more intimidating without actually moving much, which Toby realized was a protective response. They’d positioned themselves between him and the child, which seemed backward until he realized they were protecting Pip from the possibility that he might be disoriented or violent upon waking. “Pip,” Toby said, trying to make his voice gentle, despite feeling like his chest cavity had been used as a percussion instrument. “Come here. I’d like to meet you properly without the whole cargo hauler situation.” Pip approached

slowly, her large eyes fixed on Toby with an intensity that suggested she was memorizing everything about this moment. When she reached the bed, she carefully set her toy starship on the edge, its bioluminescent core, pulsing with soft blue light. “Pip was crossing to show carrier mother the new ship,” she said, her voice small but clear. Pip did not hear the warning signals.

 “Pip was very stupid.” Hey, no,” Toby said immediately. “You weren’t stupid. You’re a kid. Kids get distracted. That’s what kids do. The stupid thing was the cargo hauler not having functional safety systems, and that’s being fixed now.” Mr. Tobias jumped, Pip said, and her voice wavered. “Pip saw Mr. Tobias jump, and then Mr.

 Tobias flew very far and hit the wall and fell down and did not move. And there was red stuff and Pip thought Pip killed Mr. Tobias. “You didn’t kill me,” Toby said firmly. “I chose to jump. That’s not your fault, and I’m fine now. Look, I’m talking to you. I can move my fingers.” He demonstrated wiggling his fingers, which hurt more than he expected, but seemed important for the demonstration.

“Everything works.” Pip reached out tentatively and touched Toby’s hand with one small finger, like she was checking if he was real. Her skin was cool and slightly textured, like touching polished stone. Mr. Tobias is truly a warrior of the old songs, she whispered. Pip will remember Mr.

 Tobias forever and ever and tell Pip’s children and Pip’s children’s children about the human who jumped. I’d rather you remember to look both ways before crossing cargo lanes. Toby said, but he was smiling, which hurt his face, but felt worth it. And maybe keep your carrier mother close when you’re excited about new toys.

 Pip nodded solemnly, then retrieved her starship and pressed it into Toby’s palm for Mr. Tobias. So Mr. Tobias always knows Pip is grateful, and Pip will be very careful forever. Pip, I can’t take your Toby started. But Pip was already backing away, her large eyes shining with something that might have been tears or might have been her species equivalent. Gift is given, Winter said quietly.

 Among Kari, to refuse a gratitude gift is to reject the bond it represents. You would cause her significant distress. Toby looked down at the small starship in his hand, its crystal structure warm and pulsing gently against his palm. The craftsmanship was extraordinary. Each detail precise, from the tiny landing struts to the miniature navigation arrays. “Thank you, Pip,” he said.

 “I’ll take very good care of it.” Pip’s expression transformed into something radiant, and she made a small bowing motion before turning and practically skipping out of the medical chamber, where an adult Kalari, presumably her carrier mother, was waiting with an expression that suggested she’d been crying fairly recently. “That was diplomatically handled,” Kyle Shara observed.

 “You possess natural instinct for interspecies communication. This supports the rumors. “What rumors?” Toby asked, though he suspected he might regret the question. The three warriors exchanged another one of those loaded glances. Finally, I said, “The station has been circulating stories about you. Some claim you are a classified military asset planted here to observe station operations.

 Others suggest you are a member of human intelligence services with advanced training. There are three separate conspiracy theories about genetic enhancement. “One particular faction believes you are actually a converted combat android disguised as a human janitor.” “I’m none of those things,” Toby said, feeling exhaustion creeping back despite the conversation’s absurdity.

 “I’m literally just a guy who cleans things for a living. I have no training. I have no enhancements. I have a slightly above average caffeine tolerance and can identify cleaning solutions by smell, which I realize now isn’t as impressive as I thought it was. You assessed a 9-tonon cargo hauler’s trajectory, calculated the collision point, determined you could reach it in time, evaluated the risk to yourself, and executed a precise intercept maneuver in under 3 seconds, Winter said. This suggests either extensive training or decision-making capabilities

that exceed normal human parameters. I didn’t calculate anything, Toby protested. I saw a kid about to get hit by a ship and I jumped. That’s not strategy. That’s panic with good timing. Kelshara made a sound that might have been her species version of a thoughtful hum. Interesting.

 This suggests heroism may be instinctive rather than trained in your case, which many cultures would consider more valuable. Trained warriors fight because it is their duty. You fought because it was right. I wouldn’t call jumping in front of a hauler fighting, Toby said. I’d call it poor life choices with lucky outcomes.

 Would you do it again? I asked, looking up from her wristblade with sudden intensity. If you knew the outcome, knew the pain, knew the recovery time, would you still jump? Toby thought about Pip’s crystalline voice, saying, “Mr. Human, why?” Thought about her large eyes watching him from the doorway. Thought about what would have happened if he hadn’t jumped. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“I’d do it again. She’s a kid. Kids deserve adults who’ll keep them safe, even if the adults have to be stupid about it.” All three warriors went very still, and Toby realized he’d said something significant without understanding why. Winter’s hand tightened fractionally on his shoulder, her luminous eyes reflecting the chamber’s ambient light. This, she said softly, is why we guard you.

 Not because we were ordered to, not because of politics or faction disputes, because you represent something our cultures have forgotten in our focus on strength and strategy. You represent the idea that sometimes the right action is the one that disregards personal safety entirely. That’s a terrible philosophy for survival, Toby pointed out.

 Yes, Kyle Shara agreed. But survival without principle is merely existing. You reminded this station what it means to actually live. Not Toby didn’t have a response to that. Partly because he was exhausted and partly because his brain was still trying to process waking up to find his life had become some kind of interspecies philosophical debate.

 The medical chambers machinery continued its rhythmic beeping and the bioluminescent walls pulsed gently with what might have been the station’s life support systems or possibly just aesthetic lighting design. You should rest, Winter said, her tone gentling. Your body has been through significant trauma.

 The synthesizers are effective, but healing requires both time and sleep. Are you all planning to stay here? Toby asked. Because no offense, but it’s a little weird having an armed security detail in bed with me. We are not armed, Ire said, gesturing to her stacked armor on the nearby chair. We placed all weapons in the secure locker.

 Except for my wrist blade, which is technically medical equipment because it has a built-in surgical laser. That doesn’t make it less intimidating, Toby said. Would you prefer we guard from outside the chamber? Kyle Shara asked. And there was something in her tone that suggested this might actually hurt her feelings, which seemed impossible for someone who looked like she could fight her way through a battalion single-handedly.

 “No, it’s fine,” Toby said quickly, surprising himself. “I just need to know what the protocol is here. I’ve never had anyone guard me before. I’ve never been important enough to need guarding.” “You are important to Pip,” Winter said simply. and Pip’s family holds significant influence in station commerce and administration. By extension, you are important to everyone who wishes to maintain positive relations with the Kalari Trading Consortium.

 Additionally, your act of sacrifice has become symbolic of interspecies cooperation and selfless heroism, which makes you politically valuable to various factions. You are, whether you wish to be or not, a person of significance. I really just wanted to clean floors and not think about significance, Toby muttered. This is no longer possible, Ire said. You have become a story. Stories do not simply clean floors. No.

 The medical chamber’s lighting dimmed slightly, responding to some kind of automated routine, or possibly Winter’s subtle gesture at a control panel Toby hadn’t noticed. The bioluminescent walls shifted to deeper blues and purples, creating an atmosphere that felt more like night, despite being in a space station with no actual circadian rhythm.

 Toby felt his eyelids growing heavy, the medications and exhaustion and the surreal nature of his circumstances all combining into a weighted blanket of sleepiness. “We will be here when you wake,” Winter said softly. “We have taken oath to the council that no harm will come to you during your recovery. This is not merely duty. You have our respect, Tobias Renick. It is earned, not assigned.

” Thanks,” Toby mumbled, already halfway to unconsciousness. “Try not to fall on each other again. I don’t want to wake up to equipment carts everywhere.” He thought he heard laughter, soft and multi-tononed, but sleep pulled him down before he could be sure. The second time Toby woke, it was to the distinct sensation of someone arguing in whispered tones that weren’t quite as quiet as the arguers probably thought they were.

 He kept his eyes closed and tried to pass what was happening through the comfortable haze of medication and apparently very effective pain management. “Told you this would create complications,” Kelshara was saying, her voice carrying the particular exasperation that suggested this was not a new conversation. “Now medical staff believes we have formed a battle bond with the human.

” And you know what that implies? It implies we respect his courage and wish to ensure his safety. Irix counted, “These are facts. If medical staff extrapolate additional meaning, this is their concern, not ours. The extrapolation includes speculation about breeding compatibility,” Kelshara said flatly. station gossip circuits are actively debating whether human valkari hybrid offspring would inherit his selfless heroism or our superior combat training first.

 I voted for selfless heroism winter said which was apparently not the point. Gossip is meaningless. We have not formed breeding intentions toward the human. Have we not? Kaleshara asked and there was something challenging in her tone. You touched his face while he slept. I observed you. His face was asymmetrical.

 I was investigating possible injury we had missed for 6 minutes. It was a thorough investigation. Toby decided this was an excellent time to pretend to still be asleep and absolutely not process what he was hearing. Unfortunately, his body betrayed him by requiring breath. And the inhale was apparently distinctive enough that all three warriors immediately stopped talking.

 He wakes again, Irex observed with improved timing. We were just discussing nutrition protocols, Kyle Shara interrupted smoothly. You require sustenance. Your biological processes have been operating on synthesized nutrients, but medical staff recommends transitioning to standard intake to verify digestive system functionality.

 Toby opened his eyes to find the three warriors in slightly different positions than before, though still occupying his bed, like they’d collectively decided it was their new headquarters. Winter was closest again, her luminous eyes reflecting concern mixed with what might have been embarrassment. “How do you feel?” she asked.

 “Like I was hit by a cargo hauler,” Toby said, then paused. Wait, I was hit by a cargo hauler, so I feel appropriate to circumstances. What’s this about food? Standard station rations are being prepared, Irik said, still not quite meeting his eyes, which suggested the previous conversation had been exactly as awkward as it sounded.

Medical staff will deliver them shortly. You are cleared for solid intake provided you consume slowly and report any digestive distress immediately. I have eaten space station food before. Toby said, “I’m pretty sure my digestive system has already encountered everything distressing the universe has to offer.

 Station Ethan Prime maintains elevated nutrition standards,” Kelshara said, sounding slightly defensive. The culinary processes are militarygrade with 47 distinct flavor profiles and optimal nutrient distribution. You just described processed protein paste with optimization. Toby said, “I’ve eaten that. It tastes like someone’s vague memory of actual food filtered through regret.

” Winter made a sound that might have been a suppressed laugh. This is accurate. However, Pip’s family has arranged for alternative meal preparation. You will be receiving dishes from their personal galley prepared by a chef who specializes in calari cuisine adapted for human consumption. They didn’t need to do that, Toby protested.

 They absolutely needed to do that. Kyle Shara corrected. You saved their child. The debt of life is significant in Kalari culture. providing you with quality nutrition is the minimum acceptable response. They have also offered you permanent residence in their commercial sector, a position in their trading operations, and what appears to be adoption papers, though those might be a translation error. They want to adopt me.

 Kari culture values demonstrated character over biological relation. Irix explained, “You have shown the kind of protective instinct they prize in family bonds. It is logical they would wish to formalize the connection. Of course, accepting would make you legally Pip’s kin guardian, which carries certain responsibilities and social obligations.

” Toby’s brain tried to process the concept of accidentally acquiring an alien daughter through heroic stupidity and came up with nothing useful. “I can’t be someone’s guardian,” he said. I don’t know anything about calari development or culture or what kids even need beyond like food and safety and not being crushed by cargo haulers.

 Those are fundamental requirements, Winter said gently. Many guardians understand significantly less. However, the decision is yours. The papers remain available if you wish to consider them. A soft chime indicated someone at the medical chamber’s entrance, and the door slid open to reveal a floating platform loaded with covered dishes that smelled absolutely incredible.

 Toby’s stomach, which had apparently survived being reorganized by alien medical technology, with its priorities intact, immediately announced its interest in whatever was producing those aromomas. The dishes were arranged with careful artistry, each container crystalline and faintly glowing.

 And when Winter carefully helped Toby sit up against a stack of surprisingly comfortable padding, Kale Shara retrieved the platform and brought it close enough that Toby could see the contents. There were seven different dishes, each a work of art, colors, and textures, arranged in ways that suggested someone had taken the concept of nutrition and elevated it to aesthetic statement.

 The chef included instruction, Irik said, retrieving a small holographic card that projected text in what Toby realized was English, translated with care. Begin with the golden broth, which aids digestive reactivation. follow with the blue grain compound which provides complex carbohydrates. The protein selections should be sampled in order of increasing density.

 Dessert is recommended but optional depending on comfort levels. There’s dessert? Toby asked momentarily forgetting about his various injuries in the face of actual proper food after 4 days of whatever synthesized nutrients had been sustaining him. The chef indicated humans have cultural attachment to sweet flavors following meals. Winter said this tradition is respected and accommodated.

The golden broth was served in a bowl that seemed to maintain perfect temperature through some kind of thermal regulation built into the crystal structure. And when Toby took his first careful sip, he discovered that calari cooking was apparently designed by people who understood that food should be both nourishing and transcendent.

 The flavor was complex, layered, somehow both familiar and completely new, warming him from the inside in ways that had nothing to do with temperature. “This is incredible,” he said after the third sip. I’ve been eating protein paste and recycled carbohydrates for 3 months, and this is like remembering what actual food tastes like.

 The chef will be informed of your satisfaction, Kyle Shara said, and she was watching him eat with an intensity that seemed excessive for someone merely monitoring food consumption. You should pace yourself. Your digestive system requires gradual reintroduction to complex intake.

 Toby nodded, but found himself reaching for the blue grain compound, which turned out to be something like rice, but with a subtle sweetness and a texture that was simultaneously creamy and distinct. The protein selections ranged from something that reminded him of fish to a darker meat that had an almost smoky quality, and each was prepared with such care that Toby found himself slowing down, not because of digestive concerns, but because he wanted to appreciate every bite. The three warriors watched him eat with expressions that ranged from curious to

satisfied, and Toby realized that somewhere in the surreal nature of his circumstances, they’d appointed themselves not just his guards, but his caretakers. They adjusted his padding when he shifted position, retrieved additional water when his crystalline cup ran low, and maintained a running commentary of station news that was clearly designed to keep him engaged and distracted from any discomfort.

 The cargo hauler’s pilot has been detained pending investigation. Iris reported at one point, “Initial examination revealed the inertial dampener failure was not mechanical, but the result of unauthorized modifications designed to increase cargo capacity beyond safety ratings.

 The pilot faces significant penalties, including permanent license revocation and financial restitution.” “Is he okay?” Toby asked. the pilot. I mean, did he get hurt in the crash? All three warriors stared at him with expressions that suggested he’d said something either profound or incomprehensible. Winter finally spoke, a tone careful. The pilot nearly killed you through negligence and endangered multiple station residents.

 You concern yourself with his welfare. I mean, yeah, Toby said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. People make mistakes. stupid, dangerous mistakes sometimes, but they’re still people. I don’t want anyone hurt, even people who make bad choices. This philosophical perspective is increasingly common among your statements, Kyle Shara observed.

 You genuinely hold no anger toward the pilot who caused your injuries. Toby thought about it, examining his feelings with as much honesty as he could manage, while medicated and exhausted. I’m frustrated about the situation,” he said slowly. “But being angry at one person doesn’t fix the systemic problems that let it happen. The safety protocols failed.

 The inspection systems failed. The pilot made a choice, but he made it in an environment that apparently permitted it. Getting mad at him specifically seems pointless when the real problem is bigger. You are either remarkably enlightened or suffering from significant brain trauma. Iri said medical scans indicated neurological integrity, but perhaps we should request additional imaging. I’m not brain damaged. I’m just tired of being angry all the time, Toby said.

 Life is exhausting enough without carrying around rage about things I can’t change. The pilot will face consequences. Pip is safe. I’m recovering. Everything else is just details. Winter’s hand found his shoulder again. That same steady warmth he was beginning to associate with her presence. This perspective, she said quietly, is why we guard you.

 Not because you need protection, but because the station needs what you represent. I represent eating really good alien food and having complicated feelings about responsibility, Toby said, reaching for what appeared to be the dessert option.

 a delicate crystalline structure filled with something that looked like cream but tasted like honey and starlight and some third thing he didn’t have words for. You represent the possibility that strength and compassion are not contradictory traits. Kyshara said our cultures have traditionally viewed mercy as weakness. You demonstrate this is false. You possess courage sufficient to sacrifice yourself.

 Yet you concern yourself with the welfare of those who harmed you. This is not weakness. This is a kind of strength we have not prioritized. I think you’re reading way too much into a janitor who jumped without thinking, Toby said. But the dessert was excellent, and he was too comfortable to really argue the point.

 The three warriors exchanged looks again, and Toby was beginning to recognize the pattern of their silent communication. They were reaching some kind of consensus, making a decision without words, and he wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or just accept that this was apparently how elite warriors operated. “We wish to propose something,” Winter said finally. After your recovery concludes and you return to standard duties, we would request permission to maintain contact, not as guards, but as associates, allies, companions who value your perspective and would benefit from continued interaction. You want to be friends, Toby asked, surprised enough

that he nearly dropped his dessert spoon. Friendship is not a word that translates precisely. Kale Shara said carefully. Valkcari culture recognizes battle bonds which form between warriors who fight together but we have not fought together. What we feel toward you is respect yes but also curiosity. Interest in your world view.

 A desire to understand how someone can possess both courage and compassion in equal measure. Also, you are entertaining, Iris added. You say things we do not expect. This is refreshing among people who typically only communicate through violence or formal protocol.

 Toby looked at the three of them, these massive alien warriors who had apparently decided his recovery was their personal mission and were now asking permission to maintain contact after he was healed. It was absurd. It was bizarre. It was probably the best thing that had happened to him since arriving on station Ethan Prime three months ago, hoping for a fresh start and getting exactly the kind of chaos he’d been trying to avoid.

 Yeah, he said. Yeah, I’d like that. Beare warning though, I’m really boring when I’m not getting hit by cargo haulers. My exciting hobbies include reading, drinking coffee that’s only technically coffee, and organizing cleaning supplies by chemical composition.

 This sounds peaceful, Winter said, and she was smiling, which transformed her angular features into something warm. We would appreciate experiencing peaceful activities. Our professional obligations involve significant violence. Balance would be beneficial. We could teach you combat techniques, Kyle Shara offered. You possess raw courage, but lack trained responses. With proper instruction, you could defend yourself more effectively.

 or at least learn to assess trajectory and impact angles before jumping in front of heavy machinery, Irex added. I feel like the lesson should be to not jump in front of heavy machinery, Toby said. No, all three warriors said simultaneously, then shared looks that might have been amusement.

 The lesson is to jump more effectively, Winter clarified. to jump with strategy, to jump with technique, to jump and survive, which then permits additional jumping as circumstances require. That’s a terrible lesson, Toby protested, but he was laughing, which hurt his ribs, but felt worth it.

 The medical chamber’s lighting dimmed again as the station’s artificial day cycle shifted toward evening, and Toby felt exhaustion pulling at him despite the excellent food and engaging conversation. His body was still healing, rebuilding itself from the catastrophic damage. And apparently that required sleep with the same intensity that it required nutrition.

 Rest, Kyle Shara said, and her tone had gentled into something almost tender. We will maintain watch. You are safe here. You’re really going to stay? Toby asked, his eyelids already drooping. We gave our word, Winter said simply. Honor demands we keep it. But also, we find your company pleasant. Guarding you is not merely duty. It is chosen presence.

Toby wanted to respond to that, to unpack the implications and understand what it meant that three elite alien warriors had apparently decided he was worth not just protecting but spending time with. But sleep was already pulling him down into comfortable darkness, where pain was distant, and questions could wait until morning.

 The last thing he felt was Winter’s hand on his shoulder, steady and warm, and the ambient awareness of three massive presences around him, protective and peaceful warriors choosing to rest rather than fight, if only for a little while. The third time Toby woke, it was to chaos. The medical chambers alarm systems were screaming with a sound that bypassed human hearing and went straight for the panic centers of the brain.

 Lights flashing in patterns that suggested emergency protocols were actively engaged. All three warriors were on their feet in less time than Toby could process. armor materializing on their bodies with speed that suggested they’d been sleeping in partial readiness and weapons he hadn’t known existed appearing from hidden compartments and secured storage.

 “Stay down,” Kelshara ordered, her voice cutting through the alarm with absolute authority. “Do not move from the bed.” “What’s happening?” Toby demanded, trying to sit up despite the immediate protest from his reconstructed skeleton. Unknown hostiles breaching medical ward perimeter, Iric said, her wristblade extended and glowing with energy that looked designed to cut through significantly more than flesh.

 Three separate entry points, coordinated assault. They are coming for you. Why would anyone come for me? Toby asked, which felt like the critical question among many critical questions. Because you have become valuable, Winter said, positioning herself directly between Toby and the chamber’s main entrance. Politically, symbolically, culturally, multiple factions wished to control your narrative. We anticipated this possibility. It is why we remained.

 The medical chamber’s door exploded inward with a crack that sounded like bones breaking, and three figures in dark tactical armor surged through the opening with weapons raised. They weren’t human, and they weren’t any species Toby recognized, which seemed like an important detail he should probably focus on instead of the fact that they were pointing what were definitely guns at him and his unintentional bodyguards.

 Kyshara moved like liquid violence, her armored form blurring across the space between them and the intruders with speed that looked physically impossible. Her impact with the first attacker produced a sound like thunder. And then she was everywhere at once. A storm of controlled force that redirected weapons, deflected strikes, and systematically deconstructed the threat with surgical precision.

 Irix went high, launching herself toward the ceiling and using the chamber’s support beams as leverage points to attack from angles the intruders clearly hadn’t anticipated. Her wristblade sang through the air, cutting through weapon barrels and armor straps with equal efficiency, leaving the attackers scrambling to understand how their equipment was failing faster than they could respond.

Winter didn’t move. She stayed exactly where she was, positioned between Toby and danger. Her entire body coiled with potential energy that promised devastating action if anything got past her battle sisters. Her luminous eyes tracked every movement, calculating trajectories and threat assessments, and Toby realized she was the last line of defense, the one who would only engage if everything else failed.

 The fight lasted maybe 40 seconds, which was approximately 39 seconds longer than it took for Toby to understand that he was in bed with three of the most dangerous individuals he’d ever encountered. And they were absolutely not casual friends who happened to be good at violence. These were elite warriors in their element, and their element was controlled chaos that resulted in neutralized threats and unconscious attackers zip tied with materials that appeared from nowhere. Perimeter secured, Kyle Shara reported, not even

breathing hard despite having just systematically dismantled three armed opponents. Two additional contacts retreating through maintenance access. Shall we pursue? Negative. Winter said, her attention still fixed on Toby. Priority is protection of primary asset. Let station security handle peripheral threats.

 I’m a primary asset now, Toby managed, his heart rate doing things that probably weren’t great for someone recovering from extensive internal injuries. You became a primary asset approximately 4 days ago when you demonstrated value worthy of protection, Iric said, examining one of the intruders weapons with professional interest. These are mercenary contractors.

 Equipment is third tier but functional. Someone paid minimally for your extraction or elimination. This is either insulting or practical budgeting. extraction or elimination, Toby repeated. Those are very different outcomes. Uh, the contract was likely flexible based on opportunity, Kale Shara said, securing the last intruder with efficient movements.

 Take you alive if possible ensure you cannot testify if capture proves unfeasible. standard intimidation protocols designed to prevent you from speaking about the cargo hauler incident or supporting the safety reform initiatives. Station security arrived approximately 3 minutes later, which Winter vocally criticized as insufficient response time for a medical facility under active threat.

 The security team looked at the three unconscious intruders, then at the three Valkari warriors, then at Toby, still in bed, surrounded by the aftermath of violence, and made several immediate reassessments about threat levels and proper protocol. The human requires relocation to secure facility, the security team leader said, which started an immediate argument about whether Toby was safer in medical care with warrior protection or in security lockdown with inadequate guardians, which apparently described the entire station security force. According to Kyle Shara’s increasingly loud assessment of their capabilities, the argument concluded

with a compromise that involved Toby remaining in the medical chamber, but with enhanced security protocols, three additional guard shifts stationed outside, and the triad of the scarred moon maintaining their internal protection detail, because, as Winter stated flatly, they had proven effective while station security had proven doors could be exploded.

 This is insane, Toby said once the security team had removed the unconscious mercenaries and the medical chambers door had been replaced with something that looked significantly more resistant to explosive breaching. I’m a janitor. I was a janitor. Why is this happening? Because you stopped being merely a janitor the moment you chose sacrifice over survival, Winter said, settling back into her position near his bed.

 But now with significantly more obvious weaponry visible, you became a symbol. Symbols are powerful. Power attracts those who wish to control or destroy it. This is basic political reality. I don’t want to be a symbol, Toby protested. I want to eat good food and heal and maybe not get shot at. These desires are reasonable, but no longer fully available.

 Iri said, “You can attempt to return to obscurity, but your actions are already recorded and distributed across multiple communication networks. The child’s family has ensured your story reaches every sector of the station and beyond. You are permanently the human who jumped. This identity supersedes your preference.

” Kyle Shara was examining the chamber’s new door with critical assessment. We should relocate him to Valkcari quarters, she said. Our defensive positions are superior. Medical staff can provide care in our facility. He would be safer among our people. Absolutely not, Winter said immediately. Relocating him to Valkari quarters implies we have claimed him.

 This creates political implications we are not authorized to create. Have we not already claimed him? Kyle Shara asked. We guard him. We sleep in his bed. We propose continued association. These are claim behaviors whether we formalize them or not. There is significant difference between informal protection and formal claim. Winter argued.

 Informal permits him independence. Formal makes him our responsibility in ways that affect his autonomy and our obligations. I’m right here, Toby said. I can hear you debating my future. Maybe include me in the conversation.

 All three warriors turned to look at him with expressions that suggested they’d temporarily forgotten he was capable of independent thought. I spoke first. What is your preference? Do you wish to remain here with vulnerable security or relocate to defended position where you would be safer but also more explicitly connected to Valkari political structures? Toby thought about it, weighing options while trying to ignore the fact that his life had become a series of impossible choices with no clear right answers.

 I want to finish healing, he said slowly. I want to understand what’s actually happening. And why? And I want to not be anyone’s political bargaining chip or propaganda tool. Can I have those things? No, all three said simultaneously. Then Winter added, “But we can minimize how much you become those things.

 Remaining here we maintain appearance of temporary protection. Moving to our quarters, you become explicitly Valkari affiliated. The first permits more flexibility. Then I stay here,” Toby decided. “But I need you to tell me everything.” Who tried to grab me? Why? What happens next? I can’t make good decisions without information.

 The three warriors exchanged their now familiar glances, reaching silent consensus. Kyle Shara gestured, and a holographic display materialized, showing what appeared to be stationed political mapping, faction territories, and influence networks that looked like someone had tried to chart chaos and given up halfway through. Station Ethan Prime operates on factional consensus, she began.

 17 major groups maintained territory and influence balanced through informal agreements and occasional violence. Your act of sacrifice disrupted this balance. Pip’s family, the Kalari Trading Consortium, gained significant moral authority through your connection to them. This threatens groups who compete for commercial influence. Iris highlighted several sections of the map.

 These factions benefit from maintaining current safety standards because inadequate protocols permit shortcuts that increase profit margins. Your prominence as advocate for reform threatens their operational efficiency. Eliminating you or discrediting you preserves their interests.

 So they sent mercenaries to kidnap or kill me because I’m bad for their profit margins, Toby said flatly. Correct, Winter confirmed. Additionally, several factions wish to claim credit for your training and development, which would enhance their reputation. Others wish to study you to understand human decision-making processes. Three separate groups have proposed marriage contracts with members of their factions, apparently believing alliance through romantic partnership would secure favorable testimony.

 Marriage contracts, Toby repeated. People want to marry me for political reasons. Correct. Iri said, “You have received 14 formal proposals, nine informal suggestions, and what appears to be three attempts at kidnapping specifically for forced marriage, though those might be cultural misunderstandings rather than actual coercion. Translation remains imperfect.

” Toby put his face in his hands, which hurt his ribs, but felt appropriate to the situation. I jumped in front of a cargo hauler 4 days ago, and now I’m apparently the station’s most eligible bachelor/political propaganda tool/assination target. This is the worst week of my life, and I spent most of it unconscious.

 This is likely only the beginning, Kyle Shara said, which was absolutely not comforting. As you heal and return to active status, pressure will increase. Factions will compete for your affiliation. You will receive offers, threats, inducements, and possibly additional violence. This is standard for individuals who become politically significant without meaning to.

 I don’t want to be politically significant, Toby said. I want to clean floors and read books and live a quiet life where nobody tries to kidnap me. This is no longer available,” Winter said gently. “But we can help you navigate what is available. We can teach you to recognize threats, to respond effectively, to leverage your position for outcomes you actually want.

 You do not have to be passive in this situation.” “What outcomes do I want?” Toby asked, genuinely uncertain. “You want Pip to be safe,” I said immediately. “This requires safety reforms to succeed. You want to avoid being controlled by factions which requires maintaining independence while building alliances. You want to return to some version of normal life which requires establishing new equilibrium where you are no longer primary target. These are achievable goals with strategy. I don’t do strategy.

 Toby protested. I do spontaneous poor decisions with lucky outcomes. Then we will provide strategy. Kyle Shara said, “This is what we do. We assess threats, calculate responses, execute plans. You possess courage and principle. We possess tactical expertise.

 Together, we are significantly more effective than separately. You’re really offering to help me,” Toby asked. “Not just guard me while I heal, but actually help me figure out how to survive whatever this is.” Yes, Winter said simply, “We have formed what our culture calls a resonance bond. It is not romantic, not familial, but significant.

 We recognize value in you beyond your symbolic importance. We wish to see you succeed, not just survive. This is not duty. This is choice.” Toby looked at each of them in turn. These three warriors who had inserted themselves into his life through a combination of assigned duty and apparent genuine interest, who had defended him from mercenaries and argued about his autonomy and were now offering to essentially become his tactical advisers in navigating station politics he hadn’t known existed 4 days ago.

Okay, he said finally. Okay, teach me. Help me. But I need you to promise something. Promise you’ll tell me the truth even when it’s uncomfortable. Promise you’ll treat me like I’m capable of making my own decisions, even if they’re not optimal.

 Promise you won’t try to control me while helping me avoid being controlled by others. All three warriors straightened slightly, and Toby realized he’d accidentally invoke something formal. Winter spoke first, her voice carrying weight that transcended casual conversation. by the scarred moon and the honor of our ancestors. We pledge truth, respect, and support without coercion. Your autonomy is sacred. Our service is freely given.

This oath binds us until released or death claims us. That was more intense than I expected. Toby said, “Valkcari, do not make casual promises.” Kyshara said, “You asked for commitment. We have provided it. This bond is now formal and recognized by our people. Breaking it would cost us honor and status. We will not break it.

 Well, Toby said, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted and oddly emotional about three alien warriors pledging to help him figure out how to be a person who’d accidentally become significant. Thank you. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but thank you. You jumped, I said simply. Everything else follows from that choice.

 You proved yourself worthy of protection, worthy of respect, worthy of effort. This is enough. The medical chamber’s ambient lighting had cycled back to evening again, and Toby felt the familiar pull of exhaustion, combined with lingering adrenaline from the attack, and the weight of realizing his life had changed in ways he couldn’t reverse.

 The three warriors settled back into their positions around his bed, no longer sleeping, but maintaining alert watch. And Toby found comfort in their presence despite the absurdity of the entire situation. When I heal, he said quietly, already halfway to sleep. When I’m recovered and we start figuring out this political mess, I want to make sure Pip stays safe.

 Not just from cargo haulers, from everything, from people who would use her family’s influence or my connection to her. She deserves to just be a kid. This will be our priority, Winter promised. Children deserve protection beyond what adults require. We understand this principle. Good, Toby mumbled. That’s good. Everything else is negotiable, but kids have to be safe. That’s non-negotiable.

He thought he heard agreement. soft affirmations in multiple voices, but sleep claimed him before he could be certain. His dreams were confused tangles of cargo haulers and crystal starships, and three massive warriors standing between him and impossible threats. And somewhere in those dreams, a small crystalline voice kept saying, “Mr. Tobias is a hero.

” Which felt wrong, but also somehow exactly right. The fourth time Toby woke, it was to discover that two weeks had passed in what felt like continuous cycles of sleep, healing, eating incredible calari food, receiving tactical instruction from warriors who took teaching very seriously and gradually accepting that his life was never going to return to simple.

 His body had healed with the kind of efficiency that alien medical technology apparently provided as standard service. bones rebuilt and strengthened, organs repaired and functioning. Even the deep tissue damage resolved into nothing more than faint silver scars that medical staff assured him would fade completely in another month.

 He could sit up without pain, walk without assistance, and generally function as a human who had not recently been introduced to 9 tons of cargo hauler traveling at terminal velocity. The medical chamber had become something like a war room. Holographic displays showing station political mapping, threat assessments, and what Kale Shara cheerfully called tactical scenarios for surviving bureaucracy without losing your soul.

 And Dune, the three warriors had proven remarkably effective teachers, breaking down complex political maneuvering into simple principles. Identify who wants what. Understand the cost of giving it to them. never commit to anything without negotiating escape clauses and maintain relationships with multiple factions to prevent any single group from claiming control.

 Toby had met with seven different faction representatives, each offering various inducements for his support of their particular interests and had politely declined all of them using scripts Iri had helped him develop that maintained diplomatic courtesy while committing to absolutely nothing.

 He’d testified before the station council about the cargo hauler incident, supporting safety reforms while carefully avoiding language that would turn him into propaganda for any specific group. He’d visited Pip four times, always with warrior escort, and had awkward but meaningful conversations with her carrier mother about responsibility and protection and what it meant to be connected across species boundaries.

 The adoption papers remained unsigned on a crystalline data pad, and Toby stared at them at least once per day, trying to understand if accepting would be right or selfish or necessary or complicated in ways he couldn’t fully pass. “You are overthinking,” Winter said from her current position near the chamber’s newly reinforced window, watching the station’s commercial sector through transparent aluminum that could apparently withstand direct weapons fire.

 The decision is simpler than you are making it. How is accepting responsibility for an alien child’s welfare simple? Toby asked. You already feel responsible for her welfare. Winter said, “The papers merely formalize what already exists in your heart. You protected her before you knew her. You visit her now to ensure her safety and happiness.

 You negotiate political complexity partly to maintain her family’s influence so she remains protected. These are guardian behaviors. The papers only acknowledge reality. But what if I’m terrible at it? Toby asked. What if I make mistakes? What if kari children need things I don’t understand? What if I damage her by being human and clueless? Kelshara looked up from the tactical display she’d been updating with new faction movement. All guardians fear inadequacy.

 This is what makes them adequate guardians. Those who believe they know everything inevitably damage those in their care. Your fear proves you will try, which is the most important requirement. Pip asks about you constantly, Irex added. Her carrier mother reports she speaks of guardian Tobias despite the papers remaining unsigned.

 In her heart, you have already accepted the role. formalizing it would bring her joy and security. Toby looked at the data pad, at the crystalline script that apparently bound him to responsibilities he’d never imagined having, that would make him legally and culturally responsible for a small alien child who’d looked at him with large crystalline eyes and called him a hero for doing something that had simply felt necessary in the moment.

 If I sign these, he said slowly, what happens? What changes? You become part of Kari Trading Consortium family structure, Winter explained. You gain certain rights within their commercial operations and social networks. Pip gains formal guardian beyond her carrier mother, which strengthens her family’s prestige and provides her additional protection under consortium law.

 You accept responsibility for her welfare, education, and development until she reaches maturity by calari standards, which occurs at approximately 20 cycles. 20 years, Toby said. That’s a long commitment. Yes, all three warriors agreed. But you do not face it alone, Kelshara added. We have pledged support.

 Pip’s family will provide resources and guidance. The consortium will ensure you have what you need to succeed in this role. And children are resilient. They adapt. They forgive mistakes. They love those who try even imperfectly. Toby picked up the data pad, its crystal structure warm against his palm, the weight of it feeling simultaneously insignificant and massive.

 He thought about Pip’s face when she’d pressed her toy starship into his hand, about her carrier mother’s grateful tears, about the kind of universe where jumping in front of cargo haulers led to gaining alien daughters through paperwork and cultural complexity. Okay, he said, “Okay, I’ll sign them, but I need help. I need guidance.

 I need people to tell me when I’m getting it wrong so I can fix it.” “This is wisdom,” Winter said softly. “Accel is not weakness. It is strength that acknowledges limitation. Adur the signing process involved more ceremony than Toby expected, with Pip’s carrier mother arriving along with three consortium elders who apparently needed to witness the formalization, and Pip herself wearing what appeared to be formal attire that made her look simultaneously adorable and serious.

 The actual signature required a biological scan that confirmed his identity and intention and then the papers glowed briefly before the data was transmitted to consortium records and station legal databases. Guardian Tobias, Pip said solemnly, then immediately abandoned Somnity to launch herself at him with a hug that nearly knocked him over despite his recovered physical condition.

 Guardian Tobias is officially Pip’s guardian now. Pip has two guardians. Pip is very lucky. Toby caught her awkwardly, still getting used to kari physical affection, which apparently involved significant enthusiasm and very little concept of personal space. I’m lucky too, he said, and meant it despite the terror underlying everything.

 I get to help keep you safe. That’s important work. Oddguardian Tobias will teach Pip about humans,” Pip said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “And Pip will teach Guardian Tobias about calari culture. We will both learn together.” “That sounds perfect,” Toby said. And somewhere in the middle of holding an alien child who’d accidentally become his responsibility, he felt something shift in his chest, something warm and terrifying and absolutely right.

 The ceremony concluded with what appeared to be traditional calari blessing songs that sounded like crystal bells harmonizing and promises from the consortium elders that they would support this cross species guardianship with resources and guidance and Pip’s carrier mother crying again while thanking Toby repeatedly for honoring her daughter and their family with his protection.

 When everyone had finally departed and Toby was alone again with his three warrior companions, he sat heavily on the medical chambers’s bed and tried to process the fact that he’d accidentally acquired a daughter through heroic stupidity and alien adoption customs. “This is the most complicated my life has ever been,” he said. “This is only moderate complexity,” Kelshara said.

 Wait until you navigate your first Kari coming of age ceremony in 18 cycles. Those involve ritual combat and philosophical debate and apparently very specific food preparation that must honor three generations of family tradition. You’re really not helping, Toby said, but he was smiling despite everything. We are helping, I corrected. We are providing accurate information about future challenges. This permits preparation rather than surprise.

 I think I prefer surprise, Toby muttered. You absolutely do not, Winter said. You are someone who benefits from structure and anticipation. Surprise causes you stress. Preparation provides comfort. We have observed your patterns. You’ve been studying me? Toby asked. We have been understanding you, Winter said. There is difference. Study is clinical.

Understanding is personal. We seek to understand you because we value you. This is how bonds deepen. Ni the medical chamber felt simultaneously too small and exactly right. Filled with three massive warriors who’d appointed themselves his allies and advisers and apparently psychologists. And Toby realized that somewhere in the chaos of the past two weeks, he’d stopped thinking of them as guards or even friends and started thinking of them as family of some kind.

 Battle sisters who’ chosen to fight for him even when the fighting was against political complexity rather than armed mercenaries. “Thank you,” he said quietly, “for all of this, for staying, for helping, for making this insane situation manageable. This is what resonance bonds do. Kelshara said, “We have recognized value in each other.

 We maintain connection because it strengthens all of us. You provide us with perspective we lacked. We provide you with skills you need. Together we are greater than separately. This is fundamental mathematics of relationship. I don’t think relationships are usually described through mathematics, Toby said.

 Only because most people lack proper analytical framework, Kyle Shara said seriously, which made Iris laugh, which was apparently rare enough that Toby found himself laughing too, despite not fully understanding the joke. The next morning, Toby was cleared for discharge from medical care with instructions to return for follow-up scans in one week and to avoid activities that involved cargo haulers or other massive kinetic impacts.

 His new position as station safety coordinator came with quarters significantly larger than his previous accommodation located in a sector with enhanced security and proximity to both Kari consortium territory and Valkari defensive positions. Moving his belongings took approximately 20 minutes because he owned almost nothing, which the three warriors found concerning and immediately addressed by providing him with standard furniture allocations, defensive equipment that seemed excessive for someone whose job was safety coordination rather than combat

and what appeared to be a complete Vari weapons locker. Because you cannot protect others if you cannot protect yourself. and you have demonstrated willingness to sacrifice without adequate preparation. I don’t know how to use any of these,” Toby protested, looking at the array of weapons that now occupied one entire wall of his new quarters.

 “We will teach you,” Winter said. “Training begins tomorrow. Today you rest and adjust to new circumstances. Tomorrow you begin becoming adequately dangerous.” “I don’t want to be dangerous,” Toby said. You want to protect Pip. Kale Shara countered. Protection requires capability. Capability requires training. Therefore, you want training even if you do not want danger. The logic is clear.

 That’s not how wanting things works. Toby argued. It is now. I said cheerfully. Your life has changed. Your preferences must adapt. We will facilitate this adaptation with systematic instruction and occasional violence. Why occasional violence? Toby asked wearily. Because learning requires practical application, Irex explained.

 We will attack you at random intervals to assess response development and maintain readiness. This is standard Valkcari education methodology. That’s terrible pedagogy. Toby said, “It is effective pedagogy.” Kyle Shara corrected. Effectiveness supersedes comfort in military training contexts. I’m not military, Toby protested.

 You are now guardian to politically significant child and possess status that attracts threats, Winter said. This is functionally equivalent to military status, whether you claim the title or not. Therefore, military training is appropriate and necessary. Toby wanted to argue, but realized they were probably right, which was becoming an uncomfortable pattern. His life had transformed from simple janitorial work into complicated responsibility that included alien guardianship, political navigation, and apparently now combat training with warriors who considered surprise attacks educational. Fine, he said, but can we at least have a

schedule? Like violence happens during these specific hours and other times I can just exist without worrying about being attacked by my own friends. We can establish violence protocols, Winter agreed. This is reasonable accommodation. Training will occur during designated hours. Other times will be peaceful unless genuine threats emerge, which we will distinguish from training scenarios through clear verbal signaling. Thank you, Toby said. That’s literally the minimum requirement for friendship. But thank you. We are

learning your cultural preferences. Kelshara said, humans value predictable social interaction. We will adapt. This is what bonds require. Mutual adjustment toward compatibility. The first week in his new quarters established routines that felt simultaneously normal and surreal.

 Mornings involved combat training that started gentle but progressed quickly. Once the three warriors realized Toby learned faster through practical application than theoretical instruction, he would never be their equal in physical capability. But he learned to recognize attack patterns, to respond with movements that redirected force rather than meeting it directly, to use environment and surprise rather than strength.

 Afternoons were spent in his new role coordinating safety improvements across the station, which meant endless meetings with faction representatives and technical specialists and bureaucrats who viewed safety regulations as obstacles to profit rather than necessary protections. The three warriors attended every meeting, ostensibly as security, but functionally as advisers who could read political subtext Toby would have missed and occasionally intimidate people through strategic silence and crossed arms.

Evenings belonged to Pip, who visited daily with her carrier mother, or sometimes alone when she wanted special guardian Tobias time, which apparently involved teaching him kari children’s games that made no sense but were delightful anyway, and listening to his stories about Earth and human culture, and asking approximately 8,000 questions about everything from, “Why do humans only have two eyes?” two.

 Do human guardians also feel scared they will make mistakes? Yes, Toby told her during one evening visit while they sat on his quarters floor arranging her toy starship collection by size and color for no reason except it was fun. All Guardians feel scared. Being responsible for someone you love is scary because you want to do it right and you know you might mess up.

 Guardian Tobias loves Pip,” she asked, her large crystalline eyes reflecting the quarter’s ambient lighting. “Yes,” Toby said, surprised to realize it was true despite the short time. “I love you. You’re brave and curious and kind, and being your guardian is the best accidentally scary thing that’s ever happened to me.” Beep.

 Pip made her crystalline bell sound, which he’d learned meant she was happy, and hugged him with the enthusiastic affection that had become familiar. Pip loves guardian Tobias, too. Guardian Tobias is best guardian, even if guardian Tobias is still learning. We’re both learning, Toby said. That’s okay. Learning together is good. Nights were quiet time, usually spent with the three warriors in his quarter’s common area.

Sometimes talking through the day’s political developments, sometimes sharing stories about their respective cultures, sometimes just existing together in comfortable silence while Kale Shara maintained weapon inventory. Irix read military tactical treatises. And Winter watched station news with commentary about how everything was being reported incorrectly.

 You have integrated well, Winter observed one night, 3 weeks after Toby’s discharge from medical care. Your combat responses have improved 43%. Your political navigation demonstrates increasing sophistication. Your guardianship of Pip shows natural competence. You have adapted to circumstances that would overwhelm many individuals. I had help. Toby said, “I’m not doing any of this alone.

 You three have basically become my life support system. This is what resonance bonds provide. Kale Shara said, “We support each other. You have also provided us with value. You remind us that strength serves purpose beyond violence. That victory includes protecting innocence. That courage is not absence of fear, but action despite fear. These lessons improve our effectiveness as warriors.

 I’m not trying to teach you anything, Toby protested. Best teaching is unintentional, Ire said. You simply exist as yourself. This is sufficient. We observe and learn. The comfortable moment was interrupted by Toby’s communication panel chiming with incoming message notification.

 Winter reached it before he could move, checking identification protocols before allowing it to display. a habit she’d established after the third attempt by unknown parties to send him messages containing tracking malware or social engineering attacks. It is from station administrator’s office, she reported. Marked priority urgent, requesting your presence for emergency council session regarding new safety proposal that apparently threatens multiple faction interests. They want you to testify immediately. It’s midnight, Toby said.

What emergency council session happens at midnight? The kind designed to catch you unprepared and without advisers. Kelshara said grimly. This is ambush meeting. They will pressure you to support or oppose positions without time to consider consequences. It is political violence disguised as procedure. Can I refuse? Toby asked.

 You can, Winter said. But refusing creates appearance of unwillingness to engage with governance which factions will use to discredit your influence on safety initiatives. Attending without preparation creates vulnerability to manipulation. Neither option is ideal. Toby looked at the three of them.

 These warriors who’d become his advisers and friends and essentially his family in all the ways that mattered. So what do we do? We attend. Kale Shara said, already moving to retrieve her formal armor. We go together. We prepare strategy during transit. We ensure you are not caught unprepared because you are never truly unprepared when you have battle sisters supporting you.

 I thought you were my friends, not my battle sisters, Toby said. The terms have become functionally equivalent, Winter said, and she was smiling fierce and warm simultaneously. You jump for a child. We pledge to never let you jump alone again. This is what family does. The emergency council session was exactly as ambiguous as Kale Shara had predicted with 17 faction representatives each trying to push Toby toward supporting positions that would benefit their specific interests while damaging others. All disguised as concerned debate about safety protocols

and station welfare. The three warriors stood behind Toby’s seat like living threats, saying nothing but radiating the kind of controlled danger that made people reconsider aggressive tactics. Toby listened to arguments about costbenefit analysis and operational efficiency and acceptable risk thresholds and felt anger building with each euphemism for we want to keep cutting corners that endanger people because safety is expensive.

 When the faction representatives finally demanded his position, expecting him to cave under pressure or commit to partial support that could be exploited, Toby stood up and spoke with clarity that surprised him. I jumped in front of a cargo hauler because a child was about to die, he said, his voice carrying across the council chamber.

 I didn’t calculate acceptable risk. I didn’t analyze costbenefit ratios. I saw someone about to be hurt. And I acted to prevent it. That’s what safety means. Not minimizing expense, not optimizing profit margins, keeping people alive, keeping them whole. Every regulation you oppose, every protocol you call excessive, every investment you label wasteful, those are all just ways of saying you value convenience more than lives. So here’s my position.

 I support any measure that prioritizes people over profit. I oppose any faction that treats safety as negotiable. And I will spend every single day of this position I never wanted, making sure that no other child has to watch someone jump in front of a cargo hauler because you couldn’t be bothered to maintain basic equipment standards.

 The silence following his statement was profound and uncomfortable, broken finally by one faction representative, trying to argue about economic realities and operational constraints. But Toby cut him off. I don’t care about your operational constraints, he said flatly. Fix them. Find better solutions. Hire more competent engineers.

 I don’t care how you do it, but you will do it because I’m not the only person on this station willing to jump anymore. The three warriors standing behind me have pledged support. Pip’s family has consortium resources. Multiple factions have approached me with alliance offers. I didn’t want political power, but apparently I have it now, and I’m going to use every bit of it to make sure safety stops being optional.

 He sat back down, suddenly exhausted and worried. He’d just made everything worse. But then Winter’s hand found his shoulder steady and warm and proud, and he realized that maybe making things worse for people who treated lives as acceptable losses was actually making things better for everyone else. The council session devolved into argument between factions.

 After that, with Toby’s clear position, forcing people to choose sides rather than hiding behind ambiguous compromise, the three warriors escorted him out while faction representatives shouted at each other about economic feasibility and moral responsibility, and Toby realized he’d just fundamentally changed the political landscape through nothing more than honesty and anger.

 That was exceptionally effective, Kyle Shara said as they walked through the station’s administrative corridor back toward residential sectors. You demonstrated principle without compromise. This creates respect even among opponents. I think I made a lot of people very angry, Toby said. Yes, I agreed. But you made them angry while maintaining moral superiority.

 They cannot attack your position without revealing their own inadequacy. This is optimal political strategy. It wasn’t strategy, Toby protested. I was just tired of listening to them describe children as acceptable losses using economics language. Authentic anger is more effective than calculated tactics. Winter said, “You showed them who you are. Some will respect this. Some will fear this. Both outcomes serve your goals.

 You are learning to wield influence effectively. They reached Toby’s quarters to find Pip waiting with her carrier mother. Both looking worried. Pip launched herself at Toby immediately. Guardian Tobias was a dangerous political meeting. Pip was very concerned Guardian Tobias would be hurt.

 “I’m fine, Pip,” Toby said, catching her and trying to project calm despite his heart still racing from confrontation adrenaline. “The warriors protected me. Nobody got hurt. We just talked about making the station safer. Guardian Tobias made faction representatives very angry, Pip’s carrier mother said, but she was smiling.

 The consortium has already received 14 angry communications, demanding we revoke your guardian status. We have responded by formally endorsing your safety position and allocating consortium resources to support implementation. Your courage continues to inspire action. I just told the truth, Toby said. Yes, she agreed. This is why it was courageous. Truth is dangerous when people profit from lies. You chose danger over comfort.

 The consortium honors this choice. After Pip and her carrier mother departed, Toby collapsed onto his quarters seating with exhaustion that felt bone deep. The three warriors settled around him with their now familiar protective positioning, and Toby realized this had become his life. This strange combination of political complexity and found family and responsibility he’d never imagined accepting. “What happens now?” he asked.

 “After tonight, after I basically declared war on half the station’s power structure, what comes next?” “They will test you,” Winter said. They will probe for weakness, for inconsistency, for opportunity to discredit or control you. Some will offer alliances with conditions. Some will attempt intimidation.

 A few will recognize your value and seek genuine cooperation. And we will help you navigate all of it. Kyle Shara added, “We will train you, advise you, protect you when necessary, and ensure you maintain the autonomy and principles that make you worth protecting. This is our pledge. This is our purpose now. You didn’t sign up to be political advisers,” Toby said. “You were just assigned to guard me during recovery.

 We were assigned to guard you,” Irex agreed. “We chose to remain. We chose to invest in your success. We chose to recognize that sometimes the most important battles are not fought with weapons, but with principle and stubborn refusal to compromise what matters. You taught us this. Now we help you fight your way.” Toby looked at them.

 these three massive warriors who’d become his unlikely family, who’d seen something in him worth protecting beyond assigned duty, who’d chosen to stand with him against political complexity and physical threats and his own inadequacy. I don’t know how to thank you, he said quietly, for all of this, for staying, for caring, for making me believe I can actually do this impossible thing.

 You thank us by continuing to be yourself,” Winter said simply. “By refusing to become cynical or corrupted, by protecting Pip with the same courage you showed jumping for her, by remembering that strength serves purpose beyond victory. These things honor us. These things justify our choice to bond with you. You make it sound easy.

” Toby said, “It is not easy.” Kelshara said, “It is necessary. There is difference. Easy things rarely matter. Necessary things always matter. Even when they are difficult, you have chosen necessary path. We help you walk it. The weeks that followed established new patterns as safety reforms slowly gained traction through combination of Toby’s advocacy, consortium support, and the three warriors strategic pressure on resistant factions. There were more midnight council sessions, several additional assassination attempts that ended poorly

for the attackers, countless meetings where Toby learned to translate principle into policy while maintaining integrity, and steady progress toward making station Ethan Prime genuinely safer for everyone who lived there. Pip grew more confident with each visit, asking harder questions and offering surprisingly insightful observations about station politics that made Toby realized she was learning from watching him navigate impossible situations.

 The three warriors continued their training regimen, and Toby discovered he possessed natural aptitude for defensive combat when properly motivated and instructed. His quarters became informal meeting place for unlikely alliance between Kalari consortium, Valkari defensive forces and various smaller factions who recognized that safety benefited everyone regardless of political affiliation.

 6 months after the cargo hauler incident, station Ethan Prime implemented comprehensive safety protocols that would prevent similar accidents. Not through Toby’s individual effort, but through the momentum his sacrifice had created. The regulations passed council approval with 17 votes in favor, zero opposed, and multiple abstensions from factions who’d quietly withdrawn opposition after recognizing the political cost of continuing to fight.

 “You did it,” Winter said that night as they sat in Toby’s quarters reviewing the council voting record. You transformed personal sacrifice into systemic change. Children are safer because you jumped. This is legacy worth having. It wasn’t just me, Toby protested, gesturing at the three of them. It was all of us. You gave me the tools and knowledge.

 The consortium provided political leverage. Pip’s family risked their influence supporting reforms. I just kept showing up and refusing to back down. This is heroism, Kalshara said. Not grand gestures, not dramatic sacrifice, but consistent commitment to principle despite opposition. “You have proven that ordinary people can achieve extraordinary change through stubborn dedication to what is right.

” “I’m still just a janitor,” Toby said, though his official title was now senior safety coordinator with administrative authority. “No,” I said firmly. You are guardian, advocate, friend, and living proof that courage is not about being fearless, but about acting despite fear. You are exactly what you needed to be when circumstances required it. This is heroism in its truest form.

 Later that evening, after the warriors had departed to their own quarters for the first time in weeks, confident that Toby was safe enough to sleep without immediate protection, he sat alone with Pip’s crystal starship in his hands. its bioluminescent glow pulsing gently in the darkness. He thought about the choice he’d made in 3 seconds.

 The life that had unfolded from that choice, the family he’d found through jumping without thinking about consequences. He’d thrown himself in front of a 9-tonon cargo hauler for a child he didn’t know, and woke to find three elite warriors in his bed who decided he was worth protecting. He’d gained a daughter through alien adoption customs, political influence he’d never wanted, combat training from the best warriors on the station, and a purpose that felt simultaneously terrifying and exactly right.

 His life would never be simple again. There would always be faction politics to navigate, threats to manage, responsibilities to honor, a child to raise across species boundaries, and three warriors who’d apparently decided he was their permanent project. and honorary battle brother. But sitting in the quiet darkness of quarters he’d earned through sacrifice and stubbornness, Toby realized simple had never been the goal anyway. The goal was living with principle.

 Protecting those who needed protection. Building something better than what existed. Finding family in unexpected places. Jumping when jumping was necessary. Even when the landing would hurt. He’d thrown himself in front of a cargo hauler, and everything had changed.

 But looking at the crystal starship glowing in his hands, thinking about Pip’s laughter and Winter’s steady presence, and the strange, beautiful complexity his life had become. Toby realized he would make the same choice again without hesitation. Some jumps were worth the landing, no matter how hard the impact. Some families were worth finding, no matter how strange the path.

 Some purposes were worth accepting, no matter how impossible they seemed. And some warriors, massive and alien and utterly unexpected, were exactly the friends you needed to face impossible things together. The crystal starship pulsed in his hands like a heartbeat, like a promise, like proof that sometimes the most catastrophic decisions led to exactly where you needed to be, even if you’d never known you were looking for it.