The Vulture's Grin drifted through a field of magnetic dust storms in Sector 9, a pocket of twisted gravity wells and burnt-out stars. The crew worked in tense silence, eyes flicking to sensor feeds and hull integrity readouts.
Zai Ren was back in the engineering bay, rerouting power from auxiliary thrusters to the lower stabilizers. The ship groaned under the strain, but it held steady.
[Warning: Particle turbulence increasing. Recommend stabilizer boost at 12.6%. Try not to blow us all up, genius.]
Specter's voice curled in Zai's neural interface like a smirk. The sarcasm was standard now—woven into every system report, every update. Zai had grown used to it, even found it comforting in a strange way.
He responded silently, flicking his fingers across the panel. "Got it."
"Anything we need to worry about?" Rhys called from the bridge.
Zai looked up from the console. "Specter's reading a dust surge, but nothing critical yet."
"Copy. Keep an eye out. We're approaching the thermal ridge."
In the mess hall, Kira sat quietly at one of the narrow benches, her case still glued to her side like a lifeline. Tamika slid in across from her, peeling open a protein bar.
"You always clutchin' that thing like it's your last lifeline?"
Kira didn't answer.
Tamika took a bite and chewed loudly. "You know, if you wanna keep secrets on this ship, you better learn to lie better."
Kira raised her eyes slowly. "I'm not lying."
"Hmm. Just hiding things, huh?"
The tension lingered for a beat before Kira looked away, silent.
Zai passed the open doorway and caught the tail end of that exchange. He kept walking. Whatever Kira was hiding, it wasn't time to dig yet.
[Passive thermal spikes detected. Forward quadrant. Looks like company. Want me to ping Captain Boring?]
Zai blinked. "Relay the signature to my display."
The targeting overlay flickered across his vision. Three slow-moving objects, heat signatures masked by the dust but definitely not debris.
He climbed toward the bridge. "Rhys, we've got incoming. Could be nothing... or could be pirates hiding in the storm."
Rhys leaned forward, tapping the console. "Any IDs?"
"None. Specter thinks it's a little too cozy to be coincidence."
Rhys looked over his shoulder. "Jin, adjust long-range scanners. Tamika, shields to half. Zai—prep internal lockdown just in case."
Thirty minutes later, the Grin emerged from the storm's edge into the orbit of a fractured moon. The ships tailing them were clearer now—smaller, sleeker, but not military. Raiders.
"They're not closing in yet," Jin muttered. "Just watching."
"Like vultures," Rhys said darkly. "Figures."
Zai leaned against the console, arms crossed. "If they're watching, they're planning. Specter clocked their shield pulses. Out-of-sync, mismatched. Modified junkers."
"They're gonna make a move," Rhys muttered.
[Want me to fry their nav arrays? I could do it with a potato and some chewing gum.]
Zai smirked privately. "Too early. We'll wait."
Rhys made the call. "Maintain course. No sudden moves. Let's see who gets nervous first."
Hours passed, and the Grin docked near an old mining station embedded in the moon's crust. Most of it had collapsed, but a comms relay still pinged automated traffic.
The crew disembarked cautiously, rifles slung low.
Inside, Zai patched into the station's relay system. Most files were corrupted, but one log caught his attention: a shipment manifest encoded with royalty-level encryption protocols.
"Specter, decrypt?"
[You had me at 'royalty.' Decoding... oh look, a fancy girl's hidden cargo manifest. I'm shocked. Shocked.]
He scrolled through the file. Coordinates, names, and an encryption key that matched the case Kira had clutched since her rescue.
"Kira's cargo isn't just some trinket," Zai muttered to himself.
Back on the ship, he cornered her outside her cabin. "You're not just a castaway, are you?"
Kira flinched. "I never said I was."
"You also didn't say your cargo was keyed to sovereign encryption."
Her gaze hardened. "That's not your business."
Zai shook his head. "It became our business the moment you brought it on board."
She hesitated, then whispered, "If they catch me, they'll kill everyone who helps me."
Zai studied her. She looked tired. Not just from running—but from hiding. Constantly.
"Then we make sure they don't catch you."
Later that night, Rhys called a crew meeting.
Zai stood near the back, arms folded.
"We've got a problem," Rhys began. "Zai intercepted a signal. Someone's looking for a high-value package. And our new passenger fits the description a little too neatly."
Kira sat rigid, saying nothing.
Rhys continued, "We're being followed. And if what Zai found is accurate, there's a bounty involved. Big one."
Tamika whistled low. "Figures."
Zai stepped forward. "We stay dark for the next two jumps. No beacons. No cargo scans. After that, we decide together."
Rhys nodded slowly. "Agreed."
The meeting ended, and Kira lingered. As the others dispersed, she approached Zai.
"I didn't mean to put you all in danger."
He offered a small shrug. "Danger's kind of baked into the job."
She smiled faintly. "You're different from the others."
"Probably defective," he said, and turned to go.
[Nice save, Romeo. Want me to print her a poem next time?]
Zai rolled his eyes.
Outside, the stars shimmered cold and distant.
The Vulture's Grin drifted on.
They weren't out of the fire.
But they weren't alone either.