The storm cleared, leaving the Rust Sea unusually calm. The grey clouds parted, showing a piece of the actual moon - a pale, cratered rock that looked too clean for this dirty word.
I stood in a black sludge, watching the sparks fly.
Easy! Glitch shouted, waving his datapad like a traffic wand. "You are cutting too close to the fuel line! If that plasma residues ignite, we're all toast!"
Maya ignored him. She stood on top of the burning wreckage of the gunship I took down earlier. Her cybernetic arm had transformed into a high-torque plasma cutter. The blade glowed hot as she cut through the ship armor hull.
ZZZZZT-CLANG.
A big piece of tritanium armor plate fell off, and landed in the mud.
Clean cut, Maya said, wiping her face. She looked at me. "Is that worth anything?"
Tritanium alloy? I said. "On the black market, a slab that size is enough to pay for a week of clean water. Keep cutting."
I walked over to the exposed engine block. The gunship was a mess of twisted metal and melted wire, but the core component were military-grade.
Skill: Network sense activate.
I scanned the wreckage. And amidst the dead circuitry, i saw pulses of blue lights.
ITEM DETECTED: RAVEN ION-THRUSTER (DAMAGED).
ITEM DETECTED: PLASMA BATTERY (HALF FULL).
ITEM DETECTED: FLIGHT DATA RECORDER.
"Jackpot", I said quietly.
I reached in and grabbed the battery.
SKILL: Energy siphon (activate).
I didn't drain it completely. I just drained the extra that will leak out eventually.
XP GAINED. 20... 20... 20.
It wasn't much, but I needed it. I was in Level 10 now, and Level 11 needed a ton of XP. I needed to feed constantly.
Glitch, bring the loader-bot, I ordered. "We're taking this thing apart."
[Two Hours Later - IN The Titan's Cargo Bay]
We all sat on crates in the Titan's lower bay, surrounded by our loot. It looked like a yard sales for warlords.
There were stacks of armor plates, coils of copper wire, three intact ion thrusters, and a pile of high-tech assault rifles we had scavenged from the pilot's cockpits.
The total estimated value, Glitch said. "About 50,000 Credits, give or take depending on the market."
50,000? Sarah said, surprised. "That's enough to buy a Tier-2 Generator or a medical pod."
Or, I said, picking up a rifle, "It's also enough to buy the AI Processor ARES needs."
And food, Maya added. "Real food."
I looked at the rifle in my hand. It was a corp-Sec Enforcer, It's DNA-locked to the dead pilot. It is useless to anyone else... unless you are me.
I touched the grip.
SKILL: Overcharge (precision mode activate).
I sent a surge of power into the bio-scanner. The lock buzzed and reset. And the gun light turned from red to green.
WEAPON UNLOCKED.
I tossed the rifle to Maya. She caught it surprised.
You're on guard duty, I said. "Learn how to use it."
She looked at the gun, then at me. For the first time, she didn't argue, she just nodded and checked it.
"So", Sarah said. "We have the loot. but we can't just walk into a pawn shop with military hardware. The moment we try to sell a Raven thruster, the Corp will surely track us."
We are not going to a pawn shop, I said. "We are going to the Grey Zone."
Glitch looked up. "Sector 3? The no-man's-land? That's place is a warzone. That's where the Triad and Russian mobs fight for territory."
Exactly, I said. "Trouble is good for business. They don't ask questions in Sector 3."
I know a Broker There, Sarah said. "His name is silas. He use to manage the money laundering accounts for the rich folks before he was exiled. And he owes me a favor."
"Does he know you're... you?" I asked.
"He knows Queen Lysandra", she said, her voice turning cold. "And he knows better than to mess with her."
Good. Then it's settled.
I stood up and looked at the map ARES was projecting.
"We need to split up into two groups. Maya and Glitch, you guys will stay here, and hide the Titan and keep the PDCs defenses online. If anything moves that isn't us, blast it."
"You're leaving me with the kid?" Maya said.
"I'm not a kid", Glitch said. "I'm a Level 22 Hacker. Show some respect."
Sarah and I will take the hover-skiff, I said. "We will go to Sector 3, we'll sell the loot, We'll buy the AI Processor and as much uranium as we can carry. We'll be back before dawn."
"And if you don't come back?" Maya asked.
I looked at her.
"Then you take the Titan and this rifle in your hand, And you make them pay," i said.
Maya swallowed hard, holding the gun tighter. "Okay".
[Sector 3 - The Grey Zone]
We used junk from the shuttle wreckage and some drone parts to make this hover-skiff—basically a flat anti-gravity sled. It floated quietly over the gross river that split Sector 0 and Sector 3.
The Grey Zone lived up to its name. It's wasn't dark like the undercity, nor bright like the upper level, just a maze of buildings lit by flickering streetlamps. It was a place of shadows.
We parked the skiff in a collapsed parking garage, covering the loot with a sheet.
"Hoods up," Sarah said. "They're eyes everywhere we need to be careful."
We walked through the crowded market streets, the market street were packed with desperate folks hawking scrap metal and even their own body parts. Street doctors performed surgery in the open. Drug Dealers pushed Neon-Dust on street corners.
My network sense was overloaded.
SIGNAL: CYBER-EYE (ILLEGAL MOD).
SIGNAL: NEURAL-JACK (VIRUS DECTECTED).
SIGNAL: WEAPON (HIDDEN).
Everyone here was armed and dangerous.
"The Broker those he business in a club called The Velvet Static," Sarah said, smoothly moving through the crowd.
We got to the club; And two big bouncers with four arm each stood at the door.
"List?" the bouncer said.
"Tell Silas the Queen of Spades is here to cash in her chips," Sarah said.
The bouncer paused, then tapped his earpiece. His eyes widened.
"VIP room, top floor. Don't touch the dancers." The bouncer said.
He stepped aside.
We entered the club: it was sensory overload, strobes light, smoke, and holographic dancers dancing in cages hanging from the ceiling.
We went straight to the VIP elevator.
Inside the office, the music was quieter. A guy in a white suit sat behind a desk made of real mahogany wood. He was polishing a pair of antique glasses.
"Lysandra," The man said, not looking up. "I heard you were dead. Flushed down the waste chute with the rest of the refuse."
The rumors of my demise were exaggerated, Sarah said, sitting in the chair opposite him without asking. "Hello, Silas."
Silas looked up, He was old, but his eyes were sharp.
And who's the muscle? Silas asked, looking at me. "He's glowing. That's bad for stealth."
I'm the business partner, I said, leaning against the wall. "And the glow is a feature."
Fair enough, Silas said. "So The Queen returns to her court. But you look.... diminished. No crown, no guards?"
I have something better, Sarah said, placing a chip on the table. "I have the manifest of a Raven-Class Gunship. Engines. Armor. Weapons. All sitting in a garage three blocks away."
Silas froze, He picked up the chip and slotted it into his desk. A list scrolled across his eyes.
This are military grade, he said quietly. "Stolen from the Corp? Malachi is searching for these ships."
"Malachi thinks they crashed in the Rust Sea," I said. "We're offering you salvage rights."
Silas leaned back. "This risky. It very risky. If I deal with this... I need 30%."
"10%," Sarah replied. "And you will find us an AI Processor. High grade Logic-Core Level 5."
Level 5? Silas laughed. "That's illegal in three sectors. That's Military AI tech."
So are the engines we are selling you, I pointed out. "Do we have a Deal?"
Silas looked at the manifest, then at the potential cash. He looked greedy and scared at the same time.
20%, Silas said. "And I get the Processor, but you pick it up yourself. My supplier is... difficult."
Where?
"The Warehouse District. Midnight. Ask for 'The Butcher'."
Sarah face changed. "The Butcher cut up people for organs," she said.
He also takes chips from high-end cyborgs, Silas said. "It's the only place to find a Logic-Core that strong."
Fine, Sarah said, standing. "Transfer the credits. We'll get the chips."
"Pleasure doing business," Silas smiled, extending a hand.
I didn't shake it.
My wrist-comp buzzed.
WARNING. NETWORK INTRUSION DECTECTED.
SOURCE: LOCAL.
I looked at Silas, then at the desk
I used network sence.
Under the desk, Silas's hand was hovering over a silent alarm button.
"Don't," I said quietly.
Silas froze. "Excuse me?"
Your finger, I said, my eyes glowing. "Move it, or I will fry your pacemaker."
Silas went pale and moved his hand.
Just a precaution, he stammered. "Old habit"
Break the habit, I said. "Transfer the credits. Now."
He tapped the transfer.
CREDIT RECEIVED: 40,000.
"Let's go," I told Sarah.
We walked out of the office, back into the loud club.
"He was going to sell us out," Sarah whispered.
Of course he was, I said, pulling up my hood. "He's a criminal, but we have the money now."
I checked the time. 11:00 PM.
One hour to midnight, I said. "Time to meet the Butcher."