Day 11 drifting in deep space, and the silence was the worst part.
Ren tapped the metal wall rhythmically, trying to break the constant hum of the engines. Elan floated near the viewport, staring out into the void, searching for anything other than the endless dark.
Max was at the console, running routine scans, his eyes tired but focused. "Nothing again," he muttered, leaning back.
Ren sighed. "I'd rather see something scary than nothing at all."
Max glanced at him. "Don't say that."
A soft beep broke the silence. Max's eyes snapped to the screen, confusion flickering across his face.
"What is it?" Elan asked, pushing off the wall to join him.
"Something's... moving out there," Max replied, zooming in on the scanner. A small blip, faint but clear, was following them at the edge of detection range.
Ren perked up. "Maybe it's another survivor!"
Elan stared at the blip, unease growing in his chest. "Or maybe it's not."
For a few minutes, the blip kept its distance, shadowing them quietly. Then, the console screamed a warning.
LOCK-ON DETECTED.
"What the—" Max's hands flew across the controls.
A red streak of light cut across the darkness outside, grazing past the hull, shaking the ship violently. The lights flickered as alarms blared.
"They're firing at us!" Ren shouted, grabbing a rail as the ship tilted.
Elan dove into the pilot's seat, hands gripping the controls as he pulled the ship into a sharp evasive maneuver. Another shot zipped past them, narrowly missing the engines.
"Who are they?!" Ren yelled, fear in his voice.
Max's face was pale, his eyes locked on the pursuing blip. "They're not survivors. They're Scavengers."
"Scavengers?" Elan echoed, pulling the ship into another spin as a bolt of red light grazed past them.
Max's jaw tightened. "Space pirates. They hunt drifting ships like us. Strip them, take what they want, leave the rest to die. That's what I think they are."
Another blast rocked the ship, and Elan cursed under his breath. "Not us. Not today."
He pushed the engines, the ship shuddering as it accelerated, diving toward a drifting debris field to break the Scavenger's line of sight. The engines roared, burning precious fuel as the black of space blurred around them, the stars streaking past like cold rain.
The Scavengers followed, their shots tearing through floating metal, explosions echoing in the void.
"Fuel's dropping fast!" Max shouted.
Elan didn't slow down. "We lose them, or we die."
They darted through the debris, using shattered panels and chunks of old ships as cover. Another shot slammed into a drifting crate, sending shards of metal spinning past their viewport.
Ren was pale, clutching his harness, eyes wide. "We're not going to make it."
Elan's eyes narrowed. "Yes, we will."
He cut the engines at the last moment, using momentum to slide them behind a massive piece of wreckage. The Scavenger ship zipped past, unable to adjust in time, its sensors losing their lock.
For a moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing and the distant crackle of static.
Max exhaled, slumping back. "We're clear... for now."
Elan tightened his grip on the controls, staring out at the darkness where the Scavenger ship had disappeared. The hum of the engines returned, softer now, but every vibration reminded them of how close death was out here.
And as the silence returned, it no longer felt empty—it felt like something was always watching, waiting for the next chance to strike.
The hum of the engines was no comfort now, only a reminder of how close they had come to death.
Max checked the console again, watching the fuel drop. "We're down to sixty percent. We lost weeks of fuel trying to escape."
Ren sat curled up in his seat, his eyes hollow. "They almost killed us… just like that."
Elan's hands remained on the controls, scanning the dark for any sign of the Scavengers returning. "We can't let our guard down. They could come back."
Max rubbed his forehead. "They might have marked our ship. We're easy prey out here."
Ren's voice cracked. "Why would they even attack us? We've got nothing."
Elan's eyes hardened. "They don't care. They see a ship, they see fuel, Fluxine, food, and scrap. It's worth the risk to them."
Max nodded, his voice low. "They're Scavengers for a reason. They'll take everything, and leave nothing."
They drifted through the black, engines burning low to conserve fuel, passing silent wreckage—shattered satellites, torn panels, the remains of other dreams left to rot in the void.
Every beep of the scanner made them tense, every flicker on the screen a potential death sentence. They took turns sleeping in shifts, afraid to be caught unaware.
Hours passed before Max finally exhaled, shoulders dropping. "I think we've lost them."
Elan didn't look away from the viewport, eyes scanning the stars. "For now."
Ren hugged himself, whispering, "How many more are out there?"
Neither Elan nor Max answered. The silence spoke for them.
Outside, drifting through the dark, a faint blinking light pulsed among the debris, unnoticed by the crew—a signal waiting in the black, ready to change everything.
The silence in the cockpit was interrupted by a single, quiet beep.
Elan's eyes snapped to the scanner. A single dot blinked on the edge of their detection range.
Ren tensed. "Is it them again?"
Max checked the trajectory, watching the dot hover in place. "No… it's not moving. It's not following us."
Elan leaned closer, studying the data. "So it's not Scavengers."
They exchanged a look, the tension easing just slightly. In the dark, any sign of something that wasn't trying to kill them felt like hope.
Max adjusted the sensors, refining the image until a shape appeared on the console. A spacecraft, drifting slowly in the black.
Ren's breath caught. "Is that… the same model as ours?"
Elan's eyes narrowed. "It is."
The scanner flickered, reading the energy signature. The ship's fuel was nearly gone, only a few hours left before it would be dead in the dark.
Elan looked at Max. "We need to check it."
Max hesitated, glancing at the fuel gauge, but nodded. "It might have something we can use."
They adjusted course, engines humming softly, as they moved toward the drifting ship, unaware of what they might find inside.
Their ship hovered beside the drifting craft, the stars reflecting off the scuffed metal hull that looked nearly identical to their own. Small scratches and scorch marks lined its surface, a testament to the chaos they had all escaped.
Max carefully aligned the docking clamps, the soft clunk echoing through their cabin as the magnetic anchors locked onto the other ship.
"Anchored," Max confirmed, letting out a shaky breath.
Elan toggled the comms system, sending a standard request for permission to board. The light on the console blinked as the signal pulsed through the void.
They waited, the silence stretching, every second heavy.
Ren swallowed, clutching the rail. "Do you think there's anyone alive in there?"
Before Elan could answer, the console beeped, the indicator light flashing green. A mechanical hiss echoed through the connection as the other ship's airlock slowly unlocked.
"They understood us," Max said, surprise and relief mixing in his voice.
Elan nodded, pulling on his harness. "We're going in."
The airlock opened, cold recycled air brushing against them as they stepped into the narrow corridor of the other ship. The lights flickered dimly, illuminating a cramped cockpit where two figures turned toward them.
Two siblings, a boy and a girl around Elan's age, their faces pale but eyes sharp with fear and exhaustion, stood waiting.
Between them sat a single canister of Fluxine, strapped down carefully as if it was the only thing keeping them alive.
Elan raised his hand in a small wave, trying to ease the tension. "We're not here to hurt you."
The girl nodded slowly, her hand tightening on the Fluxine canister. "We know. You're like us, aren't you? Just trying to survive."
In that quiet moment, surrounded by the hum of failing systems, the four of them stood there, realizing they were not alone in the dark after all.
The two groups sat in the cramped cockpit of the drifting ship, the hum of the failing systems filling the silence.
Elan glanced at the fuel gauge on their console, seeing it nearly empty. He looked back at the siblings, confusion on his face. "Your craft is about to run out of fuel. You have a canister of Fluxine, so why aren't you refueling it?"
The girl clutched the canister closer, looking down. "We… don't know how to."
Ren blinked. "What? You don't know how to refuel your own ship?"
The boy, eyes tired, shook his head. "We don't. We tried to find out, but… we couldn't."
Elan frowned, leaning forward. "Then how did you even get this far into space? You can't control the ship either, right?"
The siblings exchanged a glance before the girl pulled out a small, worn booklet from her jacket, holding it out carefully. "We had this manual. We followed it step by step to launch and keep the ship stable. But it doesn't say anything about refueling."
Max took the manual gently, flipping through its thin, crumpled pages. His brow furrowed as he skimmed the instructions. "This is… a basic launch operations manual. It's missing half of the critical systems procedures."
The boy's voice was small. "It was all we had."
Elan exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "So you launched into space with just a manual you could barely follow, not even knowing how to refuel…"
The girl met his gaze, her eyes determined despite the fear in them. "We didn't have a choice."
Elan fell silent, understanding the quiet desperation in their voices as the hum of the ship's systems pulsed softly around them, the dark outside pressing against the thin metal walls that held them all together.