Oaths Are for the Obedient

[Fab]

Serrano turned his face away, jaw tightening slightly as he shook his head--less in denial, more in weary resignation. His gaze settled on some unfocused point across the diner, past grease-stained neon and the soft clatter of trays. When he looked back, his expression was more composed, but the edge remained.

Serrano:
“I tried. The Order’s knee-deep in the wreckage out there. You probably haven’t heard how bad things have gotten in the Omicrons… but it’s chaos. Theta’s under constant pressure, and demand for alien artifacts has spiked. From where, no one’s saying--but it’s not local.”

He leaned back slightly, plucking a few fries from the tray. He ate them slowly, as if rationing time with each bite.

Serrano:
“My message to them was acknowledged. Processed, they said. But we both know what that means when the net is full. Riegel slipped through. He’s here now, in Liberty.”

He took a measured sip of his drink. The citrus bite gave him a second to steady his voice.

Serrano:
“My work puts me close to dangerous people. Riegel’s already slipped past me more than once. And like any man with a mortgage and a family, I’d rather not end up spaced or worse. I’m not asking for heroics. I’m saying: this needs to be stopped before it gets personal.”

There was a brief pause--controlled, intentional. When Dagger-2 raised the question of why he’d contacted them, Serrano didn’t hesitate.

Serrano:
“I took my shot. Liberty Navy and LPI didn’t care. Wrote me off as some fringe-case edgeworlder twitching from rad exposure. But your division… you read between the lines. You’ve seen what gets missed when you don't.”

He straightened, subtly adjusting his coat, his eyes steady now.

Serrano:
“I get it--the trail starts in the Omicrons. But Riegel’s not there anymore. This is your backyard now. Bringing in the Order risks an incident. Slows things down. You don’t want that, and neither do I.”

He turned his terminal back to himself, fingers moving with precise familiarity across the keyboard. A still frame blinked onto the screen--Riegel, caught mid-motion, handling an open crate. A soft glow bled from its contents--an artifact, unmistakably alien.

Serrano rotated the screen back toward Dagger-2.

Serrano:
“I can’t overstate this, Mr. ‘Dagger’. I want to close a case. You want to prevent a catastrophe. Riegel is the link between those two things.”

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