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I was pretty surprised when I saw the listing: Vanduul cryo-pods. After the trail of Dr. Jorrit’s experiments with Vanduul technology had led to the Nyx system, the Hockrow Agency asked me to keep an eye out for potential deals there. Jackpot. But was it a good idea to meet with the unknown seller without backup? Probably not, but I had to hurry before the offer expired. What could possibly go wrong? Black market dealing in hot Vanduul goods. Shitty idea to go alone.

At the Nyx Pyro Gateway, I entered the hangar of C3rb3rus. Definitely a alias.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

My voice echoed. Footsteps approached. A guy in heavy armor, closed helmet, face unrecognizable. Why would he show his face in a deal like this? My hood was pulled low over my face, too.

“You’re interested in the Vanduul cryo pods? Want to see the goods first?”

“Absolutely.”

C3rb3rus—or whatever the guy’s name was—called the cargo lift. The door creaked open. Five black-and-red cryo-pods with Vanduul characters. I stepped closer—and stopped short. Damn! I hadn’t expected that.

“Genuine Vanduul. Where’d you get these?”

“We were on a reconnaissance mission for InterSec at an old QV Planet service station. It was a hot mess. We got attacked by Vanduul as we approached. We got ambushed inside the station. We took these things with us and didn’t turn them all in to InterSec.”

“Do you do this kind of thing often?”

“I’m a mercenary. I take the jobs as they come.”

I sized up C3rb3rus.

“Did you sell any to the ASD or a Dr. Jorrit?”

“No. But I’ve heard of them. And do you want them? I’m selling them all as a package.”

We closed the deal and exchanged contact information. C3rb3rus seemed surprisingly easygoing—and I was now the owner of five frozen Vanduul. Completely crazy. While loading them into the White Rabbit, I noticed something: “ASD” was written on the front of the pods. Proof of Jorrit’s source.

The next day, I met up with Brubacker, Husky, Alaska, and Pike in Levski aboard Husky’s Carrack. Excited, I blurted out.

“Guys, I’ve made an incredible discovery. You have to see this.”

“No time, Zero,” Brubacker replied curtly. “We have to leave immediately. Urgent InterSec reconnaissance mission. Smuggling of Vanduul technology.”

I stared at him in disbelief. Why so little interest in what I had?

“Then go ahead. I have to take care of my discovery first. I can’t just leave it on board the White Rabbit.”

“Does this have anything to do with our mission?” Alaska asked.

“I think so,” I said curtly.

“Check it out,” Husky suggested. “I’ll get the Frost ready for launch.”

A minute later, we were standing in front of one of the cryo-pods. The three of them reacted cautiously. Brubacker urged us to leave. By the Prophet—didn’t he see what this meant? I lost my balance, grew angry.

“Can I at least change clothes?” I snapped.

Back on board the Frost, I grumbled as I sat down in a turret. Husky wanted to know where I’d gotten the pods. I told him about C3rb3rus.

Then a swarm of pirates descended on us. The Carrack vibrated under the hits, warning lights flickered, and we fought back with everything we had. Afterward, we had to head for a space station for repairs.

Pike radioed us, astonished.

“There are mushrooms on the Frost.”

Great. We rushed over to him. Molina-Mold fungal bodies were sprouting from warm ventilation ducts. The devilish fingers of the epidemic had reached for the Carrack. Luckily, Husky had filled a fire extinguisher with the antifungal agent. He disinfected everything; I disposed of the fungi in space.

Once we were finally clear again, we set off for the coordinates we’d received from InterSec. An old QV Planet Service Station, deeply hidden among asteroids in the Glaciem Ring—an ideal hideout for smugglers. Was this the station C3rb3rus had told us about? Not a good sign.

I sat tensely in the turret, intently scanning the surroundings. Husky steered the Frost in a wide arc around the station.

“What’s that glowing over there?” Alaska asked. “Are those engines?”

Then all hell broke loose. Several Vanduul fighters descended on us like flies on a pile of Ranta dung. Husky coordinated the turrets’ return fire. A brief skirmish, then silence. Debris drifted past my turret pod.

“I want to know if there really were Vanduul in there,” I said, leaving my turret and the Carrack.

I floated silently through the bluish glow of the asteroid belt toward a torn-off cockpit section. I had no time to admire the breathtaking view. I drew my weapon, dared a glance into the cockpit—empty.

My grip on the weapon tightened. In the distance, silhouetted against the light, a shadowy figure. Tall, large—too large for a human. And then… I looked a Vanduul straight in the eyes—dead eyes. My breath caught in my throat.

Brubacker and Pike appeared beside me, silently observing the Vanduul. Pike nudged him. The Vanduul’s limbs moved as if in a dance; the claws on its hands nearly brushed my helmet.

“Is he dead?” Alaska asked over the radio.

“He’s moving,” I replied.

A brief pause. Then Pike: “Dead as a doornail.”

“That’s no joke,” Alaska complained.

“So what now?” I asked. “Should we bring him on board?”

No objection. I maneuvered the body through the airlock with the tractor beam and locked it in a cabinet for EVA suits—just to be safe. Before doing so, I took a knife and part of his body armor from him.

Husky steered the Frost closer to the station. A heavily damaged Polaris with a skull-like logo was docked there. We entered the station through a hangar. The same stylized Vanduul skulls adorned the walls. Cold, creepy.

With our weapons drawn, we advanced slowly, covering each other. From the reception area to a wide staircase leading into the atrium. Flickering light, crackling, sparks flying. At the top, a burning Vanduul boarding pod was stuck in the floor. A human was impaled on a boom. The impact must have shaken the entire station. The thought of how the Vanduul attack unfolded made me shudder. How long had it been since the attack? Would we encounter Vanduul inside the station? A lump formed in my throat.

Going up the stairs would have put us in the line of fire. Not an option. I climbed up a railing on the side and found cover. Suddenly, voices—human voices. Fighters shouting commands, forming up for an attack. Was that aimed at us or the Vanduul?

A whistle. A bullet whizzed past my ear. Answer enough.

“Zero? Everything okay with you?” Husky called out.

“Yeah. I’ve got cover here. But I can’t see anyone.”

Pike appeared beside me. We flanked each other and went into a side room. Suddenly, an alarm went off, and a bulkhead closed. We were trapped. On the other side: gunfire, screams.

“There are too many of them. We have to retreat.”

“Pike and Zero are trapped. We have to free them,” Brubacker replied.

Pike and I looked at each other, helpless. Agonizing minutes passed. Constant gunfire on the other side of the gate. Pike paced back and forth like a tiger. Then Husky on the radio.

“There’s a maintenance room and a lever labeled ‘Bypass.’ I’m pulling it.”

The alarm fell silent, the bulkhead opened. Dead pirates lay on the floor, bones protruding from their armor. Who were these guys? I stuffed pieces of the armor into my backpack. Then we joined the others and retreated. The only sensible decision.

Aboard the Frost, we put some distance between us and the station. Then it occurred to us: we had a passenger we couldn’t take to Levski. We jettisoned the Vanduul through the airlock. His body drifted alone toward the red nebula—the Virgil system, his home.

Brubacker called us into the mess hall.

“Our mission was to investigate, and we did that,” he explained in a serious tone. “With the cryo-pod, we also have proof, and we saw it with our own eyes. Let the official authorities handle the rest. Zero, will you hand the pod over to Hockrow?”

I confirmed. Then Brubacker emphasized that he was no longer a journalist and that his editorial office was closed. He would no longer release anything to the public. It was clear to me: our joint path of investigation and exposure of scandals was over.

*

A day later, I met with a representative from the Hockrow Agency. He explained that the pirates on the station were the Shattered Blades—black-market dealers in Vanduul technology and Jorrit’s source of supply. Stopping the trade was virtually impossible. The network was too extensive, spread across QV stations that had long since been taken off the official registry.

For me, the investigation into the ASD case was closed. I handed over the Vanduul cryo-pod to the Hockrow agent—one of five.

Lost in thought, I stood before the statue of Anthony Tanaka and opened a Rust. What had we achieved with our investigations? Now, and with the scandals before. We had uncovered the truth, made it public—nothing had changed. Chaos, corruption, and exploitation remained. I had retreated to the desert, far away from scandals, crises, and obligations. For a life of freedom and independence. Yet scandals and conspiracies caught up with me. Was it worth it?

The great wheel of time was too mighty for someone like me. It turned, unimpressed by my actions. Rather, it would crush me. Better to occupy the niches and avoid the path of the great wheel.

Gerald’s words came to mind: “In the Rust Society, we leave politics to the politicians.”

The path of the Rust Society. That was my path.

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)