the wounded heart

Sixteen Days Ago - The Five Veils Route
The Larkspur Crescent was a civilian freighter, old by some standards, but lovingly maintained. Its hull bore the paint of a Cerea-based shipping family—a stylized crescent moon cradling a leaf. It had made dozens of runs without incident. That ended today.
The Vigil patrol ship came from nowhere. A dull hum of interdiction rippled the stars. Within seconds, four boarding pods struck with precision, sealing to the airlocks like wasps to a dying creature.
"They’re not pirates," whispered Raelin Juno, holding her daughter tight beneath a table in the ship's mess. "They’re official. Look—those uniforms."
Her husband, Hal, was arguing near the cargo bay.
"This is illegal! We’re under Cerea trade protections. You have no right—"
"Contraband confirmed in hold six. Biological trace patterns indicate restricted transmission tags." A Vigil enforcer—Threaded, his cloak pristine—ignored the protests, signaling to his squad. "Detain them all. By Directive Three, they're to be questioned indefinitely."
A warning shot cracked the bulkhead as Hal stepped forward. Then screaming. One of the deckhands ran. An explosion—shrapnel, steam, blood.
The little girl whimpered.
The Larkspur Crescent fell silent not long after.
A partial signal escaped the blast, like a ghost—just enough.
Present Day - Tarsai Vigil Regional Admin Office, Enarc
"So to summarize," Ala said with restrained patience, perched elegantly on the edge of a very uncomfortable chair, "you’ve reviewed the complaint, the ship registry, the black box fragment, and a witness statement... and still, no record of this incident exists in your system?"
"That’s correct," said the middle manager across from her, a flawlessly average man named Cint Druve. His haircut was one millimeter too neat, and his teeth had the artificial shine of too many promotions. He smiled wide—an immovable smile.
"We at the Tarsai Vigil take all allegations very seriously. I understand your concern, Jedi Quin. However, there's no evidence of wrongdoing by any of our patrols during the alleged date and coordinates. In fact, the Larkspur Crescent does not appear in our logs. Perhaps a clerical error on Cerea’s side?"
"Cint, the signal came from a Vigil-patrolled zone. The black box fragment was authenticated by Naboo forensic analysis. And—"
She hesitated. The Threaded operative from Strand of Echoes. Day two. A sliver of corrupted log. A whisper: "They buried it. Not all of us agree." Then nothing. Disconnected. Vanished.
"—there’s more than enough to warrant a deeper investigation."
Cint blinked slowly.
"We appreciate your diligence. Truly. And in light of your... persistence, the matter has been escalated."
Ala leaned forward slightly. "Escalated? To who?"
Cint’s smile never moved, but his fingers tapped the console once.
"Upper Management will be speaking with you directly. Please remain seated."
The silence that followed was not procedural. It was anticipatory.