It came in clean.
Too clean.
No background chatter. No embedded malware. Just a crisp, well-modulated transmission pinging Aurex's outer relay towers like a politely raised hand.
"This is the Trade Federation diplomatic vessel Helix Run, hailing the planetary authority known as Aurex.We request permission to land in neutral territory and open a dialogue of mutual benefit.This contact is peaceful. Our crew is minimal. We come with trade manifest, data repositories, and willingness to respect local customs."
It even included a visual ID: a sleek, silver transport with rounded solar fins and a diplomatic seal of the Outer Rim Trade Attaché division.
Toren stared at the hologram flickering over the council table.
Mira didn't sit.
"They found us."
"No," Tarn said from behind her. "They knew where to look."
Wess scratched his beard. "You think Val left a trail?"
"Or an invitation," Mira muttered.
Jakel shifted in his seat. "Could be real. Could be a feeler. They send a polite face first. See if we flinch."
Grum grunted. "Let me shoot 'em mid-landing. Real polite."
"No," Toren said, finally. "We can't stay hidden forever."
Silence.
Then he added, carefully:
"But we don't give them truth. Just enough to satisfy them. Mira—you'll handle the meeting."
She raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"You don't flinch."
She smirked faintly. "And you do?"
He didn't answer.
But he didn't deny it either.