Chapter Seven: The Hunter's Echo
The proximity alert pulses in time with my heartbeat—sharp, relentless.
I kill the lights and dive the Solace into a downward spiral through the edge of Orias Drift's gravitational veil. A derelict belt of old satellites and shattered war relics spins around the drift, providing cover—if we're fast, and lucky.
"Who followed us?" Mira grips the co-pilot's console.
I scan the trajectory of the incoming vessel. Fast, sleek, not Dominion—but built from Dominion parts. Modified.
"Hunter-class interceptor," I mutter. "Black market upgrade. Whoever they are, they're not official."
"Which makes them worse," Mira says.
I nod grimly. Mercenaries don't play by rules. And someone paid top credits to hunt us.
The Solace shudders as a glancing EMP pulse grazes our rear shields. I grip the control yoke tighter, weaving between debris—an old Orias beacon station explodes behind us from a clean missile shot.
"They're not missing on purpose," I say. "They're measuring."
"Testing what?"
"Our reactions. Our evasion pattern. They're mapping us in real-time."
She curses. "Then change the pattern."
"I'm trying, but this isn't just tech. This is someone who knows me."
My chest tightens.
Only three people alive knew how I flew. One died at Titan Reach. One betrayed me. And one…
"Adler?" Mira says it like she reads my thoughts.
"I don't know. It doesn't feel like him. He was surgical. This is theatrical."
A pause.
"Then it's someone who wants you to think it's Adler."
I slam the Solace into a deep roll and pull a reverse thruster burn, flipping us behind a chunk of drifting armor plating from a fallen warcruiser. For a breath, we vanish from the hunter's sensors.
Mira punches in a signal bounce—a risky echo transponder code that mimics a Dominion transport signature.
A risky trick. But it might buy us seconds.
"We need to get planetside," I say. "Orias Drift's surface is unstable, but there's an old mining colony in the southern shadows. Abandoned. We can disappear there."
"Assuming they don't blast us out of orbit before we reach it."
"I've survived worse."
She looks at me. "No, you endured worse. There's a difference."
We break cover, and the hunter moves again—faster, closer. The distance between us is vanishing, one second at a time.
I cut the main thrusters, go dark, and let the gravitational pull of Orias take over. Free fall. Controlled descent. Dangerous as hell.
The hunter overshoots, not expecting the dead drift. Mira grins.
"Nice."
"Don't thank me yet," I grunt. "This is where it gets interesting."
Reentry rattles the Solace like a beast in a storm. Fire streaks across the hull, warning alarms shriek, and metal groans as we pierce the upper layers of Orias's toxic atmosphere.
The surface comes into view—cracked, ash-colored, lifeless.
But somewhere below, hidden in shadows and ruins, is our only chance to disappear long enough to plan what comes next.
I grip the controls, knuckles white.
"Hold on."
We dive.