The Signal and the Silence

The laptop works. The internet works. Somehow, impossibly, the portal maintains a connection to Earth that extends beyond physical transport. Nial and Paul have already used it to order supplies through Nial's business accounts — fencing materials, equipment, the practical necessities of building something defensible in this hostile place.

But Kain's mind seizes on something else entirely.

Brianne. He could reach her. Could send a message, make a call, let her know he's alive and fighting. The hope kindles so fast it nearly chokes him — the thought of her voice, of hearing that the pregnancy is progressing, of knowing his daughter is still growing safe inside her mother.

Then Nial raises the complications.

Should they be telling anyone about this place? What explanation could possibly make sense? And the question that lands hardest: how does Kain expect the baby to be delivered with no doctor? Glenda is gone, hunting a Portal Pirate through unknown terrain. If she doesn't return in time, if something goes wrong during the birth, if complications arise...

The scenarios unspool in Kain's mind, each worse than the last. Brianne screaming in a tent. Blood pooling beneath her. His daughter arriving into hands that don't know how to catch her.

"Glenda's only going to be gone a few days," he insists, but the words ring hollow even to his own ears.

Later, alone with Henri in the dim sanctuary of his tent, Kain makes a promise. Not to Nial, not to Paul, not to anyone who could hear and judge and hold him accountable. To himself. To his unborn daughter. To the woman carrying her who deserves to know he hasn't given up.

He won't abandon their future.

The internet works. A signal can cross dimensions. But finding the words to bridge that distance — that may be the hardest thing he's ever done.