May. 23rd, 2024

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Bond had quite enjoyed his time on the station. He’d gotten to know the commander. The workings. The rhythm of life. He’d learned the comings and goings. What the protocols for a delegation of hostile ambassadors was versus what actually happened. What he couldn’t witness himself, he’d used his presence in Q branch to gain access to all the systems he could need.

He watched vids on repeat, watching. Waiting.

And in the mean time, he enjoyed Q. He romanced the droid, tested his limits, and enjoyed his body at every possible opportunity. It was a shame, what was to come. Q was doing so well here, and the station was so crowded. So many souls.

A shame, but never once had that stopped the Double-O.

The order came through in the night, waking him from a dreamless sleep. The tone was different from others and triggered something in Bond’s mind, demanding complusion and obedience. He sat up and stretched, then read the message.

Initiate Protocol 9

A simple statement that had Bond rise, dress, and arm himself. He slipped from his quarters and entered a Jeffries tube. The saboteur crawled through the guts of the station, setting charges at critical points. When the station failed, there would be time for evacuation.

By the time the station failed, they would be so deep into the quadrant that rescue could take time. Too much time. By the time the station failed, the only option may be the Omicron system. There may be a planet or moon close enough by then. By the time the station failed, Bond would have secured passage away, with Q, in a well appointed ship.

He wasn’t going down with the station. That wasn’t part of the protocol. He was going down on Q until the moment they needed to run.

* * *
Hex was oblivious when the agent emerged from the tube access near the med bay. People used them for all sorts of things. And since the agent was in a red shirt, Hex took no note. He was much more concerned with getting back to the nest he shared with Nyx. He’d secured a parcel from Risa, delicacies both sweet and tangy. He hoped Nyx was home, though he never really counted on it. The prince moved about as he pleased and Hex was honored every single time he was chosen.

The doors whooshed open and he held the box as he scanned the room for the prince.

“Nyx?” he called int the dim room.

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Hex

February 2025

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