Page 245 of Destined For Her Alien Daddy

“Because information about soul-bond emergence can be weaponized socially, politically, reproductively, and religiously,” I say. “It can be used to strip sacred interpretations from cultures before they are ready, or to reinforce coercive ownership myths under new pseudo-scientific language. Neither outcome is acceptable.”

The captain’s gaze sharpens. “You speak as if both science and faith require restraint.”

“They do.”

That answer costs less than it once would have.

Ghar’s voice comes from behind me, calm and deep. “She is correct.”

The captain looks at him. “You have reviewed this portion?”

“I helped write it.”

Surprise moves through the room in subtle currents. Vakutan restraint around sacred language carries weight. Ghar does not posture under their attention. He simply stands there, wounded and steady, choosing his words in public as carefully as he chose them in a shrine.

The captain inclines his head. “Then I will review that section with care.”

I feel my throat tighten unexpectedly and look down at my notes until I can trust my face again.

Halvek says, “The question before this board is not whether the initiative is ideal. It is whether any better structure exists for dangerous ancient sites that may contain destabilizing knowledge. Frankly, after Nareth-Kul, I do not believe our old models survive scrutiny.”

Merrow mutters, “That is a strong conclusion.”

“Nareth-Kul exploded, Merrow.”

Brakk lifts his hand again. “Technically it destabilized catastrophically, tore along buried ruin lattices, and then collapsed into itself like an angry pastry.”

Everyone looks at him.

“What?” he demands. “Accuracy matters suddenly.”

I press two fingers to my temple. “Why did I bring you?”

“For the pay,” he says.

Sira, without opening her eyes, says, “And because you are competent.”

Brakk softens immediately and tries to hide it by scowling at his vest. “Fine. Also that.”

The human representative leans forward. “Doctoral Candidate Prentiss, you are asking us to trust a team shaped by the very disaster this initiative is meant to prevent.”

“Yes.”

“Why should we?”

I look at the sealed shard case.

Because Echo looked at us and called beauty unexpected. Because Rolaev was right enough to be terrifying and wrong enough to become monstrous. Because Teren died. Because Ghar chose love without destiny, and Sira held language steady while reality broke, and Brakk kept an escape route alive by sheer mechanical rage. Because I know now that wanting truth is not enough. Because I am more afraid of certainty than I used to be.

I say the version the board can hear.

“Because we know what failure costs,” I answer. “Not abstractly. Not from projections. We know what happens when one institution wants control, when one fanatic wants silence, and when one reckless scholar thinks wanting answers is the same as being ready for them.”

Merrow’s eyebrows lift. “That last one being you?”

“Yes.”

The admission tastes bitter but clean.