Page 29 of Accidentally Fearless

"Voluntary extended planetary residence requires immigration processing through the Intergalactic Residency Bureau, which is a separate agency with a current processing time of six to eight standard months. You would need to return to Earth during the processing period."

Six to eight months back on Earth, waiting. No guarantee of approval. No way to contact Vrex—Earth's communications infrastructure wasn't connected to the intergalactic network, and the Bureau's comm systems were, predictably, not available outside contracted service periods.

"Thank you," I said, because there was nothing else to say.

The hologram vanished.

I stood in the corridor and felt the walls close in. Not physically—the corridor was ten feet wide and twelve feet tall, but the space I'd carved out for myself in this world, the space where I mattered and was listened to and was wanted, was shrinking by the day.

"Rory."

Vrex was behind me. He'd heard. His scales were dim—his flinch response—and his bioluminescence had gone flat and cold.

"Seven days," I said.

"I will contact the Bureau. There must be—"

"He said there's no budget for extensions."

"Then I will fund it personally—"

"And immigration takes six to eight months."

He went very still. I could see his Velkorin warrior mind working at maximum speed while his body locked down.

"Do you want to stay?" he asked.

The question was simple. The answer was not.

Because yes—yes, with every part of me that had spent the last three weeks feeling alive for the first time in years. Yes, because this place had given me something I'd never had on Earth—purpose, respect, a community that valued what I brought to the table. Yes, because Vrex looked at me like that.

But also—my family. My sister, who texted me articles about career paths because she cared, even if she didn't understand. My parents, who loved me in their way. My apartment, my car, my life—small and frustrating and unfulfilling, but mine.

"I don't know," I said. It was the most honest thing I'd ever said—and also the most cowardly.

Vrex's jaw tightened. The bioluminescent marks on his arms flickered once—he was hurt.

"The contract specified thirty days," he said. His voice had shifted. The wall went back up. "Seven days remain. We should ensure the remaining tactical objectives are completed before your departure."

"Vrex—"

"The western territory is not yet secured. Krenix's remaining forces—"

"Don't do that. Don't go back behind that wall."

"I am not—"

"You are. You're getting formal and talking about tactical objectives because you don't want to talk about what's actually happening."

"What is actually happening is that you are leaving in seven days, and you do not know if you want to stay." His voice was controlled, but the undertone was raw. "That is clear. I do not require further clarification."

"That's not what I said—"

"You said you do not know. On Velkorin, that has a very specific meaning. It means the answer is no, but you do not wish to cause offense by saying so."

"I'm not Velkorin!"

"No. You are not."