While the story tumbled from Relda's lips, events stirred elsewhere in the quadrant. A transport lurked in the distance, a tiny space speck against the enormity of Aks' port. An innocent transport in appearance. Innocent, if the obvious three-crowned emblem hadn't branded the side.
The transport pilot tapped a beat into his steering control. If Relda was able to see him, his connection to Raylay was uncanny. The tapping on the steering. Shared nervous energy.
A jerk of the control levers positioned the nose cone, and the transport powered into one of many landing bays.
"Anyway," Relda explained. "Uncle Aven got it. The plague."
"Seriously? How?" Raylay wanted to know.
Relda laid her head against the cockpit shield.
"RNA doesn't completely deactivate," she posited.
Raylay's father strode with grace from his ship and into the main port center.
"Aks," he said into his metal-lined collar. "Listen, the medallion's gone. Poof. I have reason to think my son and Ty may have come here. No, not sure if they have it. Yeah, meet me in the center."
"He didn't make it that time," Relda said. "I'm the last of my kind. That's why I needed the medallion. To pay that cloner."
"It's gone from both of us," Raylay said through a shaky voice. "We'll get it back. Sorry about your uncle."