Chapter 2: The Ship That Should Not Exist
The journey to the mining zone took between thirty minutes and an hour, depending on asteroid drift and traffic clearance. For miners, it was dead time—too long to stay alert, too short to truly rest.
Lin Yan and his team passed it the usual way.
They activated the Bluestar Game Hub, a low-grade virtual entertainment system popular among miners. Simple simulations. Card games. Tactical mock battles with meaningless rewards. It wasn't about winning—it was about forgetting where they were headed.
Laughter echoed briefly through the shared comm channel.
Then the timer reached zero.
"Mining zone reached. Prepare for pod deployment."
The mood shifted instantly.
One by one, the crew entered their mining pods—the smallest extraction units available. Each pod could carry only a single miner and a limited amount of resources. No weapons. Minimal shielding. Enough oxygen for emergencies, not mistakes.
Lin Yan sealed himself inside his pod and launched.
The asteroid field swallowed them.
Jagged rocks drifted silently through the void, rotating unpredictably. Crystal-rich asteroids shimmered faintly, beautiful and lethal. Lin Yan maneuvered carefully, guiding his pod toward a suitable mining site.
Then—
The proximity alarm screamed.
An asteroid spun out of nowhere, massive and fast.
"Damn—!"
Lin Yan forced the thrusters to full output, barely slipping past the rock as it scraped against his pod's hull. The impact sent the pod tumbling violently.
Before he could stabilize—
THUD.
The pod struck something solid.
Lin Yan froze.
There was nothing on the radar. No asteroid. No debris field.
His mining pod's sensors began flashing wildly.
"Unknown object detected."
Heart pounding, Lin Yan activated his emergency suit and depressurized the pod. He stepped out carefully, magnetic boots locking onto an invisible surface.
Then he saw it.
A battleship.
Not wreckage. Not a derelict.
A fully intact battleship, vast and silent, its hull forged from materials Lin Yan had never seen before. No insignia. No visible weapons. Its design was nothing like any modern vessel in use across known space.
Cold fear crept into his chest.
This shouldn't exist.
Before he could retreat, a voice echoed—not through sound, but directly into his suit's systems.
"Life form detected."
"Ship opening hospitality protocol."
"Oxygen environment established."
A section of the hull shifted.
A door opened.
Lin Yan hesitated only a second.
Then he entered.
The door sealed behind him without a sound.
Inside, the ship was eerily pristine. Corridors stretched endlessly, walls glowing faintly with unknown energy. Lin Yan approached several doors, attempting entry.
"Access denied."
"Access denied."
"Access denied."
Everywhere, rejection.
Until he reached a door unlike the others.
No controls. No markings—except two engraved words:
CAPTAIN ONLY
Lin Yan hadn't touched it.
The door opened by itself.
No pressure change.
No mechanical sound.
No visible force.
Just… acceptance.
A chill ran down his spine as he stepped forward.
Behind him, the door closed.
And somewhere deep within the ancient ship, something awakened.