Page 231 of Destined For Her Alien Daddy

Do not waste time tracing this. Your League handlers are already trying and failing.

I swallow. “That sounds like her.”

Sira’s eyes stay on me. “Ghar should be here.”

I know she is right.

I also know the channel may vanish if we hesitate.

“Get him,” I say. “Quietly.”

Sira rises and leaves at once, robes whispering over the deck. I stare at the compad until my reflection overlays the message. I look exhausted, younger than I feel, older than I have any right to be.

Another line appears.

You learned to lie faster than I expected.

My fingers tighten. I type back.

You learned to help faster than I expected.

For several seconds, nothing.

Then:

I did not help you. I prevented total waste.

I snort despite myself and type:

That is almost a hobby if you do it twice.

The answer comes more slowly.

Do not mistake fracture for conversion.

I stare at that line for a long moment.

I know.

The gallery door opens behind me, and Ghar enters with Sira at his side. He is moving better than he was, but every step still shows pain if you know where to look. His eyes take in the compad, my posture, Sira’s expression, and the empty gallery in one efficient sweep.

“Rolaev ?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He comes to stand behind me, close enough that I feel his warmth through the blanket. “Is she tracing?”

“She says don’t bother because the League is already failing.”

“That sounds true.”

I type:

Why contact me?

The answer arrives.

Because truths spread slowly still reshape civilizations eventually.