The courier wore Nexus insignia—silver and starlight, the symbol of neutral arbitration. Not the Obsidian Cabal's black seal. Not diplomatic channels. Official Nexus business.
Zara's hand rested on her abdomen. Two weeks. Still too early to show, but Aether's consciousness was already there—running constant admin processes, monitoring her vitals, adjusting blood flow, managing the biological vessel that housed him.
The courier placed a sealed envelope on the council table. Heavy parchment. Red wax seal impressed with Director Redkin's personal sigil. Classified markings along the edges in languages most kingdoms had forgotten.
"From Director Redkin, delivered under authority of Section 3(a)(5)." The courier's voice was formal. "Acknowledgment of receipt required."
Athelia signed the receipt. The courier bowed and vanished—actual dimensional travel, not theatrics. Whatever this was, it was official.
Severen's sapphire eyes tracked the magical signature on the envelope. "That's not from Raelith. That's above examination authority. That's the Director."
Zara broke the seal. The parchment unfolded, text appearing in precise governmental script. She read the header aloud, voice layered with Aether's processing:
⚠️ CLASSIFIED — NATIONAL SECURITY ⚠️
SECRECY ORDER PURSUANT TO 35 U.S.C. § 181
Case No. KA-2025-GR-001
Issued by: Director Redkin, Nexus Patent & Trademark Office
TO: Queen Athelia, King Alexander, Princess Zara of the Ka'naveth Kingdom
CC: Raelith Flarian, Examiner of Record
RE: Genetic Restitution Treaty — Continuation-in-Part Application (Aether Protocols)
By authority vested in the Office of the Director under 35 U.S.C. § 3(a)(5) and 35 U.S.C. § 181, the above-referenced application is hereby placed under SECRECY ORDER effective immediately.
FINDINGS:
The subject matter disclosed in Claims 10-25 (collectively, the "Aether Protocols") has been reviewed by the Committee on Dimensional Security. The Committee finds that publication or disclosure of these claims would be detrimental to the national security of multiple allied kingdoms and dimensional jurisdictions.
Specifically, the Aether Protocols describe administrative-level access to dimensional infrastructure, including but not limited to:
Public disclosure of these methods would enable hostile entities to compromise fundamental dimensional security infrastructure.
ORDERED:
This order shall remain in effect until rescinded by the Director or until the subject matter is declassified by the Committee on Dimensional Security.
— Director Redkin
Nexus Patent & Trademark Office
Committee on Dimensional Security, Presiding Officer
Zara set down the first order. Her fingers were shaking slightly—Aether couldn't fully suppress biological stress responses.
"There's more." Athelia's voice was tight. She lifted a second document from the envelope. Different seal. Different authority.
The header made Zara's blood run cold:
⚡ DIMENSIONAL AUTHORITY INVOKED ⚡
PROTECTIVE CUSTODY ORDER
Case No. KA-2025-GR-001
Issued by: Director Redkin, Nexus Patent & Trademark Office
TO: Princess Zara of the Ka'naveth Kingdom
AUTHORITY: Dimensional Security Act § 4(c), Nexus Protective Jurisdiction
By authority vested in the Office of the Director under the Dimensional Security Act, Princess Zara is hereby ORDERED TO NEXUS for protective custody effective immediately.
FINDINGS:
The subject of Case KA-2025-GR-001 carries classified technology subject to active secrecy order. The pregnancy involves dimensional security-sensitive genetic material. Multiple hostile parties have expressed interest in obtaining the resulting entity.
For the protection of both Princess Zara and the unborn child, protective custody in Nexus jurisdiction is deemed necessary and appropriate.
ORDERED:
This order remains in effect until rescinded by the Director or until all security concerns are resolved to the satisfaction of the Committee on Dimensional Security.
— Director Redkin
Nexus Patent & Trademark Office
Dimensional Security Authority
Silence.
Complete, suffocating silence.
Zara's sapphire eyes scanned both orders, processing with Aether's vast analytical power. Her hand tightened protectively over her abdomen.
"He's forcing me to Nexus," she said quietly. "Under threat of military retrieval."
Severen's face had gone pale. "Zara. Do you understand what this means?"
"Protective custody. Medical care. Away from—"
"Time dilation." Severen's voice was sharp. "Your body operates on Wolf Kingdom dimensional time. Your biology is fixed to your origin dimension—that's fundamental physics. But your consciousness will experience Nexus time."
Athelia's eyes widened in horror. "How much dilation?"
"One day in Nexus equals six weeks here." Severen looked at Zara. "You'll experience days subjectively. But your body will age weeks. Your pregnancy..."
The implications crashed down.
"Seven days," Zara whispered. "I'll be in Nexus for what feels like a week. And my body will complete the entire pregnancy."
"While back here," Alexander said slowly, "ten months will pass. Almost a year."
Athelia stood abruptly. "He can't do this. This is—"
"Dimensional Authority." Severen's voice was grim. "It supersedes local sovereignty. He can. And if Zara refuses..." He looked at the order. "The Army of Ages. Raelith Flarian's command. They'll come for her."
Zara stared at the protective custody order. At the timeline. At the biological trap Redkin had just constructed.
He knows, she thought. He knows exactly what time dilation will do. He's forcing rapid pregnancy completion. Controlling the timeline. Removing me from local politics while everything develops back home.
"Seventy-two hours," she said quietly. "Three days to report to Nexus or they send Raelith's army."
Draeven's hand went to his sword. "We fight. The Wolf Kingdom doesn't bow to dimensional bullying—"
"Against the Army of Ages?" Severen's voice was sharp. "Raelith Flarian commanded them for twenty ventari years. They're not soldiers. They're inevitability. You can't fight them any more than you can fight time itself."
Zara's sapphire eyes tracked the equations. Seven days subjective. Full pregnancy. Ten months local time. Everything changing while she was gone.
"They classified it." Her voice was flat, layered with digital processing. "The entire application. Frozen under national security authority."
Alexander's hand went to his sword. "How long does this last?"
Severen's expression was grim. "Until they decide it's no longer a security threat. Which could be years. Decades, even. Some secrecy orders from the First Dimensional War are still in effect."
Athelia's amber eyes narrowed. "The baby will be born in five months. This order could outlast the pregnancy."
"And if no patent issues," Zara said quietly, "the treaty protections never activate. The Obsidian Cabal reclaims rights to 'any resulting entity.'" Her sapphire eyes met her mother's. "They can take the child the moment it's born."
The room went very cold.
Draeven leaned forward from his seat. "Who requested this? The Obsidian Cabal?"
Severen flipped to the last page, scanning for petitioner information. His jaw tightened. "It doesn't say. The petition is sealed. But there's a reference here..." He traced the citation with one finger. "Footnote 3. This isn't the first secrecy order filed on this type of subject matter."
Athelia looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"
"It cites prior secrecy orders as precedent. Cases dating back two hundred years. All related to soul manipulation technologies."
Zara's sapphire eyes locked onto the footnote. Her consciousness merged with Aether's processing, and suddenly patterns emerged—case numbers, dates, applicants.
"They're all Obsidian Cabal applications," she said, voice layered with vast data analysis. "Every single prior secrecy order cited here. Soul extraction methods. Resurrection protocols. Genetic manipulation techniques." Her eyes burned with cold fire. "The Cabal has been using Section 181 to keep their inventions classified for centuries."
Severen's eyes widened. "That's how they maintain their monopoly. Not through valid patents—those would expire after twenty years. Through perpetual government-enforced secrecy."
"No publication," Athelia said slowly, understanding dawning. "No public disclosure. No one else can even research these technologies because they're classified as national security threats."
"And the secrecy orders never expire," Zara finished. The sapphire eyes tracked invisible data streams. "Someone has been weaponizing Section 181 for centuries. Using national security classification to prevent competition."
Raelith Flarian stood before Director Redkin's desk, the draft notice of allowance in his hand. Emerald eyes—Admiral's eyes, trained for command and examination both—studied the Director with careful assessment.
"You're going to issue a secrecy order." Not a question. Raelith had been Admiral of the Army of Ages for twenty ventari years. He knew strategic moves when he saw them.
Redkin didn't deny it. "Case KA-2025-GR-001. Princess Zara's continuation-in-part."
"I was preparing to allow the claims." Raelith set the draft notice on the desk. "Group I—the administrative governance interface. It's patentable. Novel, non-obvious, practical application of dimensional code architecture. Passes Section 101 scrutiny under Alice/Mayo Step 2B."
"I know." Redkin's voice was quiet. "I reviewed your examination notes."
"Then why freeze it?" Raelith's emerald eyes narrowed. "The claims are valid. Zara wins on the merits."
"She wins on patentability." Redkin stood, moving to the window overlooking the Nexus Archives. "But she loses on politics. The Obsidian Cabal will challenge. They'll file opposition. They'll petition for reconsideration. They'll drag this out for years. And when the child is born while the case is still disputed..."
"The treaty protections are contested," Raelith finished. "The Cabal claims the child anyway."
"Exactly." Redkin turned back. "Even if the patent eventually issues, that could be years from now. The child will be born in five months. Vulnerable. Unprotected under contested treaty terms."
Raelith studied the draft notice. "So you freeze the case. Section 181 secrecy order. Suspend examination indefinitely."
"Application stays pending," Redkin said. "Not abandoned. Not rejected. Pending. Which means treaty protections remain active—not granted, but negotiable. The Obsidian Cabal can't claim the child while the application is alive."
"But Zara won't understand." Raelith's jaw tightened. "She'll think you're helping the Cabal. Weaponizing national security to prevent her patent from issuing."
"Let her think that." Redkin's voice was firm. "Better she sees me as corrupt and the child stays safe than she trusts me and loses everything."
Silence.
Raelith looked down at the notice of allowance—three days from being mailed. Three days from Zara winning. And three days from the Obsidian Cabal launching their counterattack.
"You want me to file the examiner's report anyway," he said quietly.
Redkin nodded. "Document that the claims were allowable. That you were preparing to grant the patent. That the secrecy order came right before issuance."
"That makes it look pretextual," Raelith said. "Like the Cabal petitioned to stop a patent they were about to lose."
"Good." Redkin's eyes were hard. "When Zara petitions for rescission—and she will—that report is her evidence. She'll argue the order is fraudulent. That it was issued to prevent competition, not protect national security."
"And when she investigates the prior secrecy orders cited as precedent?"
"She'll find a pattern." Redkin's voice held grim satisfaction. "Two centuries of Obsidian Cabal applications classified under Section 181. Technologies that should have expired decades ago, kept secret perpetually to maintain their monopoly."
Raelith's emerald eyes widened slightly. "You're giving her the ammunition to challenge the entire secrecy order system."
"I'm giving her time." Redkin met his gaze. "Time to investigate. Time to build her case. Time for the child to be born under pending application status. And if she's as brilliant as I think she is, she'll realize the secrecy order isn't her enemy—it's her shield."
"But she won't realize that for months. Maybe years." Raelith's voice was careful. "Until then, she thinks you betrayed her."
"I can live with that." Redkin's jaw was set. "Can you?"
Raelith looked at the notice of allowance one more time. Then he picked it up, folded it carefully, and placed it in his examination file.
"I've been Admiral of the Army of Ages for twenty ventari years," he said quietly. "Under your command for two of them. If you say this protects the child, I trust you."
"It does."
"Then I'll file the report. Document everything. Make it look like the Cabal forced your hand." Raelith's emerald eyes held steady. "And when Zara comes demanding answers, I'll tell her I don't know why you did it. Let her think we're all corrupt."
"Better that," Redkin said, "than the alternative."
Because the alternative was a child born without protection. Claimed by the Obsidian Cabal as their resurrection vessel. Everything Renaldo had built—the entire redemption architecture—falling into Daraic's hands.
Raelith straightened, Admiral's posture returning. "I'll suspend examination as ordered. File the report within the hour. And prepare for Zara's petition when it comes."
"It'll come fast," Redkin warned. "She's brilliant. She'll see the pattern, demand discovery, challenge the precedent."
"Good." Raelith's voice held something like respect. "Let her fight. Every day she spends litigating the secrecy order is another day the child stays protected."
"Exactly."
They stood in silence for a moment—two warriors who'd learned to trust each other in just two short years. Admiral and Director. Examiner and Authority. This was another battle. Different weapons, same goal.
Protect the innocent. Even if it meant being seen as the villain.
Raelith turned to leave, then paused at the door. "When this is over—when the child is safe and Zara understands what you did—will you tell her?"
Redkin looked out the window again. "Maybe. If she needs to know. But right now, what she needs is an enemy to fight. Someone to blame. Something to channel all that brilliance and rage into investigating."
"And when she realizes you were protecting her all along?"
"Then she'll forgive me." Redkin's voice held quiet certainty. "Or she won't. Either way, the child will be safe. That's what matters."
Raelith nodded once—Admiral acknowledging Director—and left to file the report that would make them both look corrupt.
It was the kindest lie they could tell.
Severen arrived with unexpected news.
"Raelith Flarian filed an examiner's report. It's part of the official record now." He laid the document on the table, sapphire eyes gleaming. "She was preparing to allow the governance interface claims when the secrecy order hit."
Zara read the report quickly, processing with Aether's speed. "Notice of allowance. She found the claims patentable under all statutory requirements."
"Which means," Athelia said slowly, "the secrecy order wasn't imposed because the claims were unpatentable. It was imposed to prevent them from being allowed."
"Exactly." Severen's voice held grim satisfaction. "Raelith documented that the Aether Protocols meet Section 101 requirements. They're not abstract ideas—they're practical applications. She was ready to issue the patent."
"Until the Obsidian Cabal petitioned for classification," Alexander finished.
Zara's hand rested on her abdomen. Four months pregnant. Five months until birth. And the patent examination frozen indefinitely.
"We petition for rescission," she said quietly. "We use Raelith's report as evidence that the secrecy order is pretextual—not based on legitimate national security concerns, but on preventing competition."
"Petitions take months," Severen warned. "And they're rarely granted. The Committee on Dimensional Security has broad discretion."
"Then we don't just petition for rescission of this order." Athelia's amber eyes gleamed with strategic understanding. "We petition for investigation of all the prior orders cited in footnote 3. Every Obsidian Cabal secrecy order from the last two centuries."
Zara's sapphire eyes tracked the implications. "Expose the pattern. Show it's not about national security—it's about maintaining monopoly control."
"And if the prior orders are void due to fraud," Severen said slowly, "then this order, which relies on them as precedent, lacks proper legal foundation."
"Void ab initio," Zara breathed. "If the precedent is fraudulent, the current order falls."
Draeven leaned forward. "You're accusing the Director of corruption. The Committee on Dimensional Security. The entire classification system."
"We're accusing the Obsidian Cabal of weaponizing government mechanisms," Athelia corrected. "Redkin may not even know he's being manipulated. The Committee might genuinely believe these technologies are security threats—because the Cabal has been telling them that for centuries."
Zara stood slowly, both hands on her abdomen. Inside, Aether's consciousness hummed with processing power—admin-level access, root privileges, the ability to audit dimensional infrastructure itself.
"Then we prove it," she said. "We pull the audit logs. Every secrecy order petition. Every Committee decision. Every communication between the Cabal and the Director's office."
"That's classified information—" Severen started.
"Which we'll request through formal discovery." Zara's voice was firm. "We file the petition for rescission. We request all documents related to the classification decision. We force them to produce evidence under oath."
"They'll fight it. Claim executive privilege, national security exemptions—"
"Let them." Zara's sapphire eyes burned with cold determination. "Every objection they raise, every document they refuse to produce, every privilege they invoke—it all goes into the record. And when we appeal, the pattern of obstruction becomes evidence of fraud."
Athelia studied her daughter. "You're not trying to win before the baby is born."
"I can't." Zara's voice was calm but realistic. "The petition process takes too long. But I can keep the application pending. As long as it's not abandoned, the treaty protections remain negotiable."
"And the secrecy order keeps it pending indefinitely," Severen realized. "Suspended, but not abandoned. They thought they were freezing your protection. But they actually preserved it."
Zara's smile was cold. "The Obsidian Cabal trapped themselves. As long as the secrecy order stands, the application can't be abandoned. And as long as the application is pending, they can't claim the child without violating the treaty terms."
"So the child is born under a pending application," Alexander said. "Protected by provisional treaty terms while you litigate the fraud claim."
"Exactly." Zara's hand remained protective over her abdomen. "And we keep fighting. Petition for rescission. Demand discovery. Appeal every denial. Build the case that the entire secrecy order system has been corrupted."
"That could take years," Draeven said quietly.
"Then it takes years." Zara's sapphire eyes met his. "Justice delayed is better than justice denied. And the Obsidian Cabal doesn't get to take my child while we fight."
Isaac read Raelith's examiner report with something between satisfaction and concern.
Daraic stood behind him. "The examiner was going to allow the claims? I thought Section 101 would—"
"The restriction requirement split them." Isaac's voice was careful. "Group I—the governance interface—passes Alice/Mayo as practical application. Raelith's right. Those claims are patentable."
"Then the secrecy order was perfectly timed."
"Too perfectly." Isaac set the report down. "Which makes it obvious. Raelith documented that we froze a case because it was about to succeed, not because it was actually a security threat."
Daraic's eyes narrowed. "You're concerned?"
"Zara's going to use this as evidence of pretextual classification. She'll petition for investigation of all prior secrecy orders. Pull audit logs. Expose the pattern."
Daraic's eyes narrowed. "Did we even request this order? I don't recall authorizing a secrecy petition."
"We didn't." Isaac's voice was careful. "Redkin issued this sua sponte—on his own authority. Which means he has his own reasons for freezing the case."
"His own reasons?" Daraic's jaw tightened. "Since when does Redkin act independently against our interests?"
"Since he realized the case was about to conclude." Isaac studied the order again. "Raelith was preparing to allow the claims. If the patent issued, Zara wins. If it was rejected, we win. Either way, the treaty dispute resolves."
"And Redkin doesn't want it resolved," Daraic said slowly.
"Apparently not." Isaac set the order down. "By freezing it under Section 181, he keeps it pending indefinitely. No resolution. No winner. No loser."
"Which preserves the treaty protections." Daraic's voice turned dangerous. "He's protecting the child. Not helping us. Not helping Zara. Preventing either side from winning."
Isaac said nothing. But behind his careful expression, calculations ran.
Redkin thinks Zara was going to lose, he thought. He's freezing the case to keep the baby protected under pending application status.
Which means the Director is playing his own game. And neither Zara nor my father see it yet.
"So what do we do?" Daraic asked.
Isaac looked at his father. And behind his careful neutral expression, something calculated.
But if she succeeds, he thought, if she proves the secrecy orders are fraudulent...
...then every Obsidian Cabal patent based on classified technologies becomes vulnerable.
Soul extraction. Resurrection protocols. Genetic manipulation.
All of it declassified. Public domain.
And I can extract you, Father, without violating patent law.
"We oppose her petition," Isaac said aloud. "Make it look like we're fighting to maintain the secrecy order. But..." He paused carefully. "Redkin has made this complicated. If he's acting independently to protect the child, we can't predict how he'll respond to Zara's arguments."
"Then we make sure the case stays frozen," Daraic said. "No rescission. No resolution. The child is born while the application is suspended, and we claim it based on treaty violation."
"That may not work anymore." Isaac's voice was measured. "If the application is pending—even in suspended status—the treaty protections arguably remain active. Redkin ensured that by freezing it instead of letting it resolve."
Daraic's eyes narrowed. "You sound like you're defending Zara's position."
"I'm analyzing the legal reality." Isaac met his father's gaze. "Redkin changed the game. We need to adapt."
But behind his careful neutrality, Isaac's mind calculated different outcomes.
If Zara petitioned for investigation of the prior secrecy orders and succeeded—if she proved two centuries of fraudulent classifications—every Obsidian Cabal patent based on those technologies would become vulnerable.
Soul extraction. Resurrection protocols. Genetic manipulation. All of it potentially declassified. Public domain.
And Isaac could extract his father without violating patent law.
Redkin's protective move had just created the perfect opening.
Isaac just had to make sure he lost the right way.
[To be continued in Chapter 11: The Birth & The Appeal]