[= Docking Data Acquired... =]

  Skov’s End Station

  Morvian Drift, Skov’s End System, Freehold Space

  Standard Galactic Date: 2739, Cycle 03

  Station Cycle: 12:47 Freehold Standard

  Approach Time: 45 minutes to dock

  [= Connection Stable =]

  I felt it before I saw it. The subtle shift in gravity, the faint lurch of the ship as we dropped out of FTL.

  I blinked awake, rubbing my eyes. Something felt off.

  We weren’t at Skov’s End yet. Why the hell did we stop?

  “Ares, did we just drop early, or did I miss the part where we’re under attack again?”

  A slight pause. Then his voice came through. “No hostiles detected. We are coasting to let the plasma cannons recharge—just in case.”

  I exhaled. Smart move. Didn’t mean I liked surprises.

  I leaned back, flexing my hands, still shaking off the exhaustion from our last fight. "Since we’re killing time, tell me something, Ares. How the hell did those pirates track us to Rykka-9?"

  A pause. A little longer this time.

  "Unknown. The Void Serpents had no direct access to our jump logs, and Valkyrion’s stealth protocols remained active. Possibilities include: external surveillance, informants, or—"

  A calculated pause.

  "—a leak."

  I frowned. "A leak?"

  Zara looked up from where she was checking her sidearm. “You think someone sold us out?”

  I stared at the ceiling, jaw tightening. Probably just some twat at the bar. It would make no sense for Zara to sell me out… unless it was a trade me for her sister.

  Maybe.

  Ares, unprompted, continued. "Strangely, the Serpents arrived at Rykka-9 just a few hours after your meeting at The Broken Star. Unusual efficiency for a group known to operate on slow, chaotic intelligence. Would you like me to run probability analysis on potential sources of compromise?"

  My gaze flicked to Zara.

  She held my stare, her expression unreadable. But I caught the slight tightening of her grip on the gun, the way her shoulders tensed just enough to notice.

  "No," I said, leaning back. "Let's not jump to conclusions yet."

  Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing.

  Then Zara exhaled sharply, shifting the topic. "So… speaking of that little fireworks show back on Draxis Reach, how much firepower do we actually have left?"

  I ran a hand through my hair. "Plasma cannons are recharging, but it’s slow. The ship prioritizes FTL and shields first. Until the core stabilizes, weapons only get what’s left."

  She frowned. "And missiles?"

  "Gone." I shot her a wry grin. "Missiles don’t grow back. We need to restock, and Nyx has an in with some suppliers. Should be able to get us a deal."

  Zara leaned back, skeptical. "And if we get jumped the second we land?"

  Ares chimed in, calm as ever. "Current plasma reserves allow for limited offensive fire. However, missile reserves are depleted, and kinetic ammunition is below combat-effective levels. Tactical assessment: prolonged engagements are not advised."

  Zara crossed her arms. "So we're walking in with half a gun and no bullets."

  I shrugged. "Hey, don’t underestimate half a gun."

  She rolled her eyes, but her grip on the armrest tightened.

  She didn’t like this.

  Neither did I.

  ***

  We dropped out of warp once more with a lurch, the ship groaning as real space snapped back into focus. The blurred streaks of stars collapsed into pinpricks of light, and the familiar weight of normal gravity settled in, or at least, what felt like normal gravity.

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  I still hadn’t figured out how FTL actually worked here.

  Back in the game, it was simple: pick a destination, watch a cool jump animation, and boom, you were there. No delays, no drift, no weird adjustments. The ship didn’t drop out early unless something scripted happened… pirate ambush, random event, whatever.

  But here? It felt… different. Like the ship had momentum, like we weren’t just teleporting from one place to another. Were we actually traveling faster than light, or was it some kind of space-folding shortcut?

  I had no clue.

  Hell, I still wasn’t sure if this was real life, or if I was trapped in some ultra-immersive version of the game with physics I didn’t understand yet.

  I shook the thought away. Now wasn’t the time to get existential.

  Ahead, Skov’s End hung in the void, a jagged asteroid pocked with docking bays, its surface stitched together with mismatched plating and rusted scaffolding.

  I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes at the swarm of ships circling it like flies on a rotting carcass.

  Some were half-gutted freighters, barely held together with desperation and bad welding. Others were sleek and mean, gunmetal hulls catching the dim light.

  Pirates. Scavengers. Smugglers.

  Everyone here was looking to make a quick credit or slit a throat.

  I flipped the weapons system online.

  The interface hummed, targeting reticles flashing across the screen.

  “Welcome to Skov’s End,” I muttered. “Hell’s favorite parking lot.”

  Zara exhaled through her nose. “Great. Real inviting.”

  I flicked the weapons system online. The interface hummed to life, scanning every ship within range.

  "Weapons are hot. Ares, lock onto anything that so much as twitches toward us."

  "Affirmative, already tracking multiple vessels exhibiting predatory behavior, Commander.”

  Figures.

  The ship’s targeting system adjusted, tracking every ship that looked too interested. Even with low plasma reserves, the Valkyrion still packed enough firepower to make people think twice. That was the thing about high-end military ships—even half-dead, they could still put holes in people.

  Zara leaned against the console, arms crossed, scanning the ships ahead. "So, if this turns into a fight. Like a real one. What’s the plan?"

  "If they fire first, we dump everything we’ve got, drain the plasma capacitors, and jump."

  Her brow furrowed. "Wait, you can just… dump plasma?"

  Ares cut in. "The plasma capacitors store energy until fired. If discharged all at once, the remaining charge will be depleted, requiring time to regenerate."

  "Translation: We’ve got limited time to cause damage before fleeing," Zara muttered, clicking her tongue.

  I smirked. "I prefer 'tactical retreat.' Sounds more professional."

  She gave me a look. "Right. And next you’re gonna say we’re ‘strategically advancing in the opposite direction.’"

  I pointed at her. "Now you’re getting it."

  Zara rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, but I could see the corner of her mouth twitching.

  I leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the cluster of ships around Skov’s End. Pirates, scavengers, mercs. Most were minding their own business, but at least one was probably debating if picking a fight with us was worth it.

  A transmission crackled over the comms.

  "Incoming transmission. The speaker requests to address the captain."

  I glanced at Zara, who shrugged, then opened the channel. “Speaking.”

  There was a pause before a familiar, gruff voice filled the cockpit. “Corvus, that you?”

  I blinked, recognition sparking. "Well, well… if it isn’t my old friend Callan. Didn’t expect to find you orbiting this dump."

  The Valkyrion’s proximity alert gave a quiet blip. Someone was scanning us. Not locking on, but definitely thinking about it.

  I smirked, leaning back. "By the way, if that's your crew running a scan on my ship, tell 'em to buy me dinner first."

  Callan chuckled. "Yeah? Maybe if you had a prettier ship."

  "She’s beautiful and you know it," I shot back.

  A chuckle came through, as rough as the engine of a half-dead cruiser. “Life’s full of surprises. Heard some crazy ship had entered our neighborhood with its weapons locked. Figured it was either you or some poor bastard with a death wish.”

  I leaned back, smirking. “Well I think I fit both of those categories. So… now, what’s a washed-up bastard like you doing here?"

  “Call it a… business venture,” Callan replied, his tone carrying that usual hint of mystery. “The kind of venture that involves keeping low, watching your back, and making a killing if you’re lucky.”

  “Right, the usual.” I let my gaze scan the ships in orbit. “And here I was, just looking to get some repairs without having to blow anything up. Thought I’d save my ammo.”

  Another laugh. "Yeah, sounds about right. So what brings you to my little corner of the void?"

  "Repairs. The kind that don’t cost an arm and a kidney." I scanned the ships in orbit, half-expecting one to make a move. "Thought I’d save my ammo."

  "Considering the loadout on that ship of yours, you could take on half the station. Makes people nervous, y’know."

  "Then they should take a deep breath."

  Zara gave me a look. I ignored it.

  Callan’s voice crackled back. "Alright, straight talk, why the hell are you out here? Not exactly vacation territory."

  “Just looking for cheap repairs and then I’ll be on my way to pick up a friend.”

  "Must be one hell of a friend if you're waltzing into cartel turf."

  I kept my tone even. “She is.”

  Zara’s eyebrow twitched. Her mouth moved like she wanted to say something, but left the question hanging in the air.

  “Nyx still kicking around this place?”

  "Yeah, she’s here. Good luck keeping her still for more than two minutes, though. She’s got this place running like her own damn playground. Check Bay 17."

  I felt a surge of relief.

  Didn’t want to go looking for another needle in the galaxy-sized haystack. “Thanks, Callan. I owe you a drink sometime.”

  “Yeah, you do. And next time, try not to roll in with guns hot. You’re spooking the locals.”

  I grinned, flipping switches to adjust course. “Can’t help it. Got one of those faces.”

  “Stay sharp, Timus. And remember: If you need anything hit us up. We still owe you big.” The transmission cut, leaving the cockpit in silence.

  Zara looked at me, arms crossed, smirking. “Friends in low places?”

  “Another Republic deserter,” I said, shrugging. “Low places are more useful than high ones. Stick with me, and you’ll learn that.”

  She huffed, but didn’t argue as I guided the Valkyrion toward Bay 17.

  Repairs, resupply, and then we were gone.

  At least, that was the plan.

  “Commander,” Ares chimed in, tone just a little too smug, “would you like me to handle the landing? I believe your manual approach is causing unnecessary drift. Precision, after all, is a skill.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You do it then, smartass.”

  "Ah, a wise delegation of responsibility. Engaging auto-docking sequence.”

  The ship immediately smoothed out, adjusting with near-perfect finesse as Ares took control.

  Show-off.

  Zara snorted. “He’s got you beat.”

  “Don’t encourage him…”