The Vulture's Grin slid through the detritus of the Leviathan Belt, its electro-armor humming softly against the backdrop of spinning asteroid husks. Routine salvage runs usually followed a predictable pulse: dock, extract, depart. But Zai Ren had learned fast that routine was a luxury in Sector 9's fringe.
He emerged from the engine bay, oily overalls clinging to his lean frame, and crossed into the corridor. Conduit patches and welded plates reflected the dim glow of overhead strips—testaments to countless jury-rigged fixes. His boots tapped methodically on the grated floor.
[Diagnostics: Core sync stable at 93%. Neural latency stable. Recommendation: proceed with caution.]
Specter chimed in, as crisp and impatient as ever. "System nominal. Captain Rhys is eager to see if your latest tweak holds under real strain."
Zai stifled a grin. Like I don't know. He adjusted the hydro-spanner at his belt and headed to the command module.
Inside, the crew was already at their stations. Rhys hovered over the holo-navigation board—no longer wearing the stiffness of a rescue mission but the casual confidence of a seasoned scavenger commander. Old Jin tapped at a holo-pad, re-routing power nodes. Tamika calibrated the external sensor array, her gloved fingers dancing over controls.
Rhys looked up as Zai entered. "Good to have you back. Reactor bypass passed tests?"
"All green," Zai replied, pointing to the gauge. "Heat differentials stayed within safe parameters during high-thrust maneuvers."
Rhys nodded once, approvingly. "Excellent. Let's see it dock without a meltdown."
He tapped the comm. "Prepare for manual docking—drift site Echo-Seven. Report any anomalies immediately."
Tamika piped up, half-smile tugging at her lips. "You trust him, Rhys? I still don't know how he remembers half the schematics Specter feeds him."
Rhys arched an eyebrow. "He's not just a processor, Tamika. He thinks like a scavenger—and a tactician. Keep your eyes sharp."
The derelict frigate loomed against the starlit void: a battered silhouette of coil drives and shattered hull plating. Magnetic clamps engaged with a satisfying "thunk," and airlocks sealed them inside.
Zai led the way through the connecting corridor, scanner light dancing over exposed conduits. Each step echoed. The Grin's comms module buzzed with low-frequency interference—old sabotage code woven into the ship's bones.
"What's their deal?" Tamika whispered.
"Post-Rift black operations," Zai said. "After the Coalition collapsed, some outfits hacked comms frigates to broadcast silence—perfect traps."
Old Jin's voice crackled in Zai's comm. "Watch for ambush points. Sensor nets are dead."
They entered the main operations bay, ribbons of cable floating like ghostly vines. A single escape pod hung, hatch ajar. Red emergency lights pulsed.
Tamika's jaw tightened. "No life signs on the scanners."
"The beacon's here," Zai said, frowning. "Specter, zero in on the pulse."
**"Coordinates locked—deck 4, port secondary corridor."
A sudden clang echoed behind them. Two raiders in mismatched armor thundered into the bay, plasma cutters raised.
"Got tech here! Drop it!" one snarled.
They opened fire. Zai reacted on instinct—neurons humming with Specter's lightning prompts. He triggered the neural flare, a searing burst from his visor that seared the raiders' optics.
They clutched their heads, stumbling. Tamika seized the moment, sprinting forward and sweeping one man's legs with a steel rod. Zai closed the distance, gauntlet crackling as he punched the second raider's chest plate.
The attackers collapsed. Zai exhaled hard, adrenaline crackling through his limbs.
"Check the pod," he barked.
Tamika pried open the hatch further. Inside, a teenager—dust-streaked, breathing ragged—clutched a battered data case.
"Help me out," she whispered.
Zai extended a hand. "On it." He hauled her free as the pod groaned. She stumbled, shock in her eyes as she looked at her rescuers.
"Thanks," she rasped. "Name's Kira."
Zai offered a reassuring smile as Tamika secured the case. "I'm Zai Ren. You're safe now."
Back aboard the Grin, the cargo bay doors sealed with hydraulic sighs. The crew assembled, tension humming in the air.
Rhys's gaze swept over Kira, then settled on Zai. "Report."
Zai exhaled. "All clear in the bay. Two raiders disabled. Retrieved this case from the pod."
Old Jin frowned. "No tracer tags?"
"Signal was manual—low-int encryption. Someone needed to be found."
Tamika crossed her arms. "Could be a trap. We pull that ribbon and get another ambush."
Kira hugged the data case protectively. "I... I was running from them. I had to send that beacon. Please, I didn't know who else to trust."
Specter buzzed in Zai's mind. **"Human volatility detected. High trust risk. Proceed with caution."
Zai placed a hand on the case. "We'll vet the data. For now, you're our guest. No unauthorized runs until we know more."
Rhys nodded. "Agreed. Old Jin, run hull scans for tracers. Tamika, watch the comms. We're laying low until we decrypt that case."
Kira managed a small nod, eyes flickering with gratitude—and something deeper, unreadable.
Night fell, acid rain sizzling against the Grin's armor. Zai found Kira in the mess hall, curled in a battered chair, the data case on her lap like a lifeline.
He slid in beside her. "Anything you need?"
She met his gaze. "A little privacy. And... thanks."
Zai nodded. "We'll figure it out together."
A soft hum alerted him—Specter's subtle prompt.
**"Case decryption in progress. File structure suggests advanced encryption matrix. Requires time."
Zai leaned back, watching the rain-lashed viewport. Tomorrow, they'd pull the secrets from that case. But tonight, for the first time since the vault, he felt something like peace.
Because he wasn't alone.
And whatever storms lay ahead, they'd face them together.