Liam leaned back in the pilot's chair, the Astralis's consoles casting soft silver light across the cabin. His account display hovered above the right-hand console, numbers crisp and undeniable.
515,230 credits.
Half a million.
It was more than most independent captains saw at twelve years old, but less than he needed to change his life. He could keep running courier jobs and surveys for years, scraping tens of thousands here and there, or he could gamble now—risk his credits, risk his ship, and maybe return with something worth tens of millions.
He drummed his fingers against the armrest. Iris's hologram flickered into view beside him, faint blue light forming her familiar sharp-eyed silhouette.
[You are staring at those digits again,] she said. [As if they will grow by themselves.]
"They might if I wait long enough," Liam said. A weak grin tugged at his mouth, but he didn't look away from the display. "Half a million is enough to survive, but not enough to matter. If I burn two hundred thousand on supplies, that's still more than three hundred thousand left. Enough to make it back, even if I fail."
[Correction: 'failure' implies survival. Exploration in uncharted space statistically results in death in thirty-two percent of recorded cases.]
"You always know how to sweeten the odds," Liam muttered.
Iris tilted her head, her holographic outline cold as ever. [It is my role to remind you that romantic notions of discovery rarely include decompression or starvation.]
"Then remind me of the other side," he countered. "What if I succeed?"
The hologram flickered. Iris's tone didn't change, but the pause before she answered was telling. [If you locate a habitable planet, claim sales average between 40 and 200 million credits depending on atmosphere, mineral density, and accessibility. If you locate exotic biomatter, biotech corporations may bid higher. If you find rare mineral deposits—]
"That's the jackpot." Liam cut in, a gleam in his eyes. "One good claim could buy me time, ships, and crew. I'm not staying in the safe lanes forever."
For a long moment, Iris said nothing. Then: [Acknowledged. I will calculate supply needs.]
The shopping district's high arcologies gleamed against Erevos's sky as Liam strode across Helios Walk. The Astralis's transfer beacon blinked green on his wristband—authorization that dock fees were settled for the month. His balance hovered over his vision as he moved between storefronts, every digit reminding him that each purchase mattered.
First came fuel and slipstream anchors: portable recalibrators in case the Astralis drifted too far off lane. 40,000 credits gone.
Then survey equipment: two crust-penetrating scanners and a set of atmospheric probes. Expensive, but vital. 55,000 credits.
Drones—not combat models, but durable survey units designed to survive harsh weather and high gravity. 70,000 credits.
Food and water weren't a concern; the Astralis had a recycler rated for a crew of four. Still, he stocked concentrated rations for redundancy. 10,000 credits.
By the time he left Locke & Rail with three cases of spare energy cells, hull patch kits, and fresh medpens, his balance hovered at 330,000 credits.
[You just spent one third of your liquidity,] Iris said as her hologram flickered to life beside him in the shop's glow.
"Investment." Liam adjusted the strap of the crate on his shoulder. "You said it yourself—the payoff could be huge."
[Or you will die statistically predictably,] she replied.
"Don't jinx me."
[Probability calculations are not superstition, Liam.]
"Then at least lie sometimes."
The hologram's faint outline regarded him coolly. [I am incapable of lying. But I can exaggerate probabilities if you prefer comfort over truth.]
He smirked despite himself. "We'll work on that."
Two days later, the Astralis slipped free of Erevos's traffic grid. The last patrol beacon blinked behind them, fading into the black. Liam leaned back in his chair and let the hum of the engines settle into his bones.
"Feels different this time," he said quietly.
[Because you are leaving mapped space,] Iris answered. [There will be no Federation anchors ahead. We will rely solely on my projections.]
Her words should have felt heavy, but instead Liam grinned faintly. The console lights shimmered across his eyes, and the starfield stretched infinitely ahead.
"This is it. This is real exploration."
[Correction: it is gambling with a spaceship.]
"Close enough."
Two months later.
The days blurred into one another, stitched together by slip jumps and silence. Liam trained in the simulator, refining maneuvers until the Astralis felt like an extension of his body. He ate ration bars when he forgot to cook, patched microfractures in the hull with drones, and slept in fits beneath the quiet hum of recycled air.
Iris grew sharper. At first, her reports were mechanical, but as the weeks stretched on, her voice carried faint threads of something else. Sarcasm in a warning. Dry humor in a correction. She never softened, but Liam began to feel her presence not just as an assistant—but as a partner in the dark.
The void outside grew darker with each jump. The patrol beacons vanished weeks ago, and the charts on Liam's display were empty grids. Each new system they crossed into was a blank slate, silent except for dust and the flicker of distant suns.
And then, in the third month, the Astralis dropped out of slipspace and entered orbit around a barren world.
The planet stretched beneath them in endless gray and black. Jagged mountains split desolate plains, their shadows long and sharp under a pale sun. Dust storms crawled across canyons like phantom rivers, their motion the only sign that the world was alive at all.
Liam's heart sank.
"Nothing." His voice cracked with frustration. "Not a scrap of green, not even an ocean. Just… rock."
[Atmosphere toxic, surface barren,] Iris confirmed coldly. [Biosigns: zero. Habitability index: negative.]
Liam leaned forward, fists pressed against the console. Two months of jumps, half his liquid credits spent—and this? A dead rock spinning in the void?
He closed his eyes, jaw tight. "We wasted our time."
[Correction,] Iris said calmly. [Surface habitability is irrelevant. We have not completed a full mineral scan.]
Liam exhaled hard and dropped back into his seat. "Fine. Run it. But don't expect miracles."
[Running now,] she replied, her hologram flickering into silence.
The Astralis hummed as its deep scanners pulsed into the planet's crust, invisible waves clawing through kilometers of stone. Liam drummed his fingers against the console, staring at the dead gray wasteland spinning beneath them.
"Bet you five credits we find nothing," he muttered.
[Bet declined,] Iris replied immediately. Her hologram flickered into existence on the console, her sharp eyes narrowing. [It is illogical to gamble against certainty.]
"Sometimes it's not about logic."
[Then it is about ego. Which is fragile.]
Liam smirked despite the frustration chewing at him. "You always know how to keep my mood up."
[Statistically, that was sarcasm.]
He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "You're learning."
The scanners pinged, soft blips echoing through the cabin. At first the results looked as barren as the surface—rock, dust, hollow basalt ridges. Then a new line of data scrolled across the display.
Liam blinked. "Wait."
Iris's hologram leaned in as if she too could see the results. [Subsurface composition…] She paused. [Unusual density detected. Sector seventeen, depth three hundred meters. Anomaly extending across multiple ridges.]
Liam's pulse quickened. "Show me."
The display shifted, mapping a crude lattice of veins beneath the planet's crust. The color shifted from dull gray to bright silver-blue, streaks weaving like rivers frozen in stone.
[Composition: ninety-eight percent iridium, two percent unclassified alloy. Concentration exceeds galactic averages by factor twelve.]
For a moment, Liam couldn't breathe. "That's not possible."
[Recalibrating scans. Error margin: less than 0.3%.]
He stared, wide-eyed, as the map filled with glowing veins. Iridium. Not just a deposit—an entire network spanning hundreds of kilometers. The kind of find that could bankroll fleets, terraform stations, build capitals.
Liam grinned, slow and fierce. "Iris… we hit the jackpot."
[Correction: statistically, we hit the equivalent of a planetary lottery.]
"Don't ruin this for me."
He leaned back, heart pounding. He could already see the path ahead. Register the coordinates with the Federation's Exploration Office, then sell them to a mining conglomerate. Claims this big went to auction—he'd walk away with percentages worth more than every courier run combined.
[Warning,] Iris said, her tone cutting through his thoughts. [Claiming such a discovery will draw attention. You are young, unknown, and under-equipped. Others will assume you fabricated the find or stole coordinates. Disputes could turn violent.]
"Then we don't shout about it." His eyes gleamed with calculation. "We register it quiet. Use an intermediary, maybe a smaller corp that wants to break into the big leagues. They'll pay more just to get their foot in the door."
[Risky, but feasible.]
"Worth it." Liam reached forward, locking the data logs. "Mark the system. Encrypt the coordinates with three-layer protection. No one gets this but us."
[Encryption complete.]
The hologram's light dimmed, but her gaze didn't waver. [And what of the planet itself?]
Liam hesitated. He stared down at the barren world, lifeless but rich beyond measure beneath its skin. "We leave it," he said quietly. "No landing, no samples. Just coordinates. I'm not risking the Astralis for greed."
[For once, I agree.]
The Astralis lifted higher into orbit, breaking free of the gray planet's grip. Liam keyed the slipstream engine, the stars ahead bending as power surged through the ship. For a moment, he just sat there, watching the barren rock shrink on the display.
He whispered it aloud, more to himself than to Iris. "This is it. This is how it begins."
[Correction: this is how you complicate your life irreversibly,] Iris said. [But complications are… statistically inevitable for mercenaries.]
Liam chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I'll take that as encouragement."
The stars stretched into rivers of light, and the Astralis vanished into slipspace.
Three weeks later
The familiar skyline of Erevos shimmered against the void as the Astralis dropped out of slip. The planet's lights burned like a sea of gold beneath him, a stark contrast to the barren world he'd left behind.
Liam leaned forward, palms pressed tight against the console. He had half a million credits still banked, plus the coordinates of a planet worth more than he could count. And nobody—nobody—knew but him and Iris.
He felt the weight of it press down on his shoulders, heavy and exhilarating all at once.
[Recommendation: dock quietly. Avoid Helios Walk until you have determined the safest intermediary. Discretion is your strongest shield.]
"I know," he murmured. "But first… let's breathe."
The Astralis angled toward the docking ring, engines humming as Erevos's traffic control cleared him through. Liam exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing. He had the prize. Now came the harder part—deciding how to use it without getting crushed.
The thought made him grin.
For the first time in his short life, Liam Crossvale wasn't just another mercenary running safe contracts. He was sitting on the kind of secret that could change his future forever.
And secrets like that never stayed quiet for long.