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The shadows of Molina Mold stretched farther than any of its spores. A People’s Alliance Reclaimer crew had been sidelined due to the epidemic, and I was asked if I could step in. Salvage was a path of the Rust Society—one of my paths—and, after the last investigation, a welcome change of pace.

I had once worked on a Reclaimer; I knew my way around the ship. Still, it was a strangely oppressive feeling to walk alone through the corridors for days on end. Rust and old marks told stories of past missions. Tragedies of stranded ships, wrecks whose ghosts seemed to live on aboard.

I heard lamentations in the walls, the muffled echo of my footsteps on the way to the cockpit. Just one more deck down. A screeching sound accompanied the elevator ride. A little oil would really do that old skeleton good. I slumped into the pilot’s seat.

The sensors showed a Corsair a few kilometers away. Low energy signature, motionless. The scanner scanned the ship—abandoned, with military-grade A components installed. It was worth a visit, so out into EVA.

The airlock hatch slid open, revealing asteroids and the endless blue of the Nyx system. I pushed off the edge and floated out. Weightless, I approached the stern of the Corsair.

After some effort, the stern ramp finally opened. My breath caught in my throat. In disbelief, I glided into the cargo hold. This wasn’t possible. I ran to the other end and surveyed my find. Components, tons of components. Sizes one, two, and three. Military and Stealth. Grade A and B. Jackpot. The desert takes, the desert gives.

I searched the Corsair—crew quarters, bridge, engine room. In the armory, rusted P6 sniper rifles; in the lockers, two sets of heavy armor. Old, rusty, with a snake symbol. What kind of ship was this? And where was the crew? Never mind—you can keep what you find. The rules of the desert were clear. Space, too, was a desert.

I began repacking. A tedious task—there were more components than would fit in the Reclaimer’s cargo lift. A crew would have been helpful, but I was alone. Again and again, I glanced anxiously toward the nearby jump point. Would the crew return? Or other looters who would try to steal my loot?

After long, busy minutes, one last check. Did I have everything? It seemed so. I pushed off and floated toward the Reclaimer. Halfway there, a bluish flash. I spun around. A vortex was forming in the depths of space. The wormhole—it was opening. Damn it. Was someone coming or going? My heart was racing. I had to get back on board as fast as I could.

No sooner was I in the airlock than I started running. Finally, back in the pilot’s seat, I checked the radar. Nothing, no contacts. I relaxed. Plenty of time to strip the Corsair’s hull and dismantle the ship. An hour later, I was in Levski and had my loot safely secured.

*

The next morning, I was sitting at the “Wake Up” booth in the Grand Barter Bazaar when Pike showed up and sat down next to me. Then someone else showed up.

“Hey, Pike. Don’t we know that guy? Red armor, white hair, white beard.”

“Yeah, sure. That’s Zwiebus. Alaska’s buddy.”

“Hey Zwiebus. Come sit with us,” I called out.

Zwiebus sat down next to Pike. We talked about Alaska and the relief efforts for Levski. Then I asked the two of them:

“Guys, do you have time? I’m supposed to clean up the jump points for the People’s Alliance with a Reclaimer and could use some help.”

They both agreed. We boarded the ship and set off. After we’d salvaged several ships, the sensors picked up a strong signal. Pike was in the co-pilot’s seat, Zwiebus behind us at a salvage console.

“I’ve got something bigger,” I said, steering our sluggish ship toward the signal.

Pike activated the scanner.

“It’s a Hermes. Abandoned. No cargo. Still, a fat haul.”

Once the Reclaimer was in position, Zwiebus began stripping the hull. The depot filled up more and more with the recycled hull material.

Eventually, a bare skeleton floated before us. Pike activated the dismantling arm. The swirling energy field settled over the stripped-down Hermes. The power generators grew louder and louder. Nothing happened.

“Damn,” Pike growled. “The Hermes’ systems are still active. Someone has to go over there and shut everything down.”

“Zwiebus,” I called back. “You’re still wearing a spacesuit. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” came the prompt reply. “And Pike—hands off the force field while I’m over there.”

“You’re impossible to miss in that red suit,” Pike laughed.

Zwiebus set off.

“I’m going to get a Rust. Want one too?” I asked and headed to the mess hall.

When I got back, I stood behind Pike with the Rust and watched the two of them at work. Zwiebus was having trouble deactivating the systems. Pike gave him tips over the radio. I opened the screw cap on the can; it squeaked. A delicious sip. I could get used to this.

Finally, Zwiebus floated out of the Hermes. Immediately, the force field lit up. Pike couldn’t wait. Grinning, I took another sip. A few seconds later, the Hermes shattered into several pieces. After everything was collected, we headed back.

Back in Levski, Pike went straight to bed. Zwiebus and I unloaded the crates of recycled material from the Reclaimer.

“Hey Zero, you’ve been living on Levski for a while now, haven’t you? Maybe we’ve met before,” Zwiebus asked.

“More or less. I used to live and work here. After spending a long time in Stanton, I’m back now.”

“And what did you do back then in Levski?”

“I worked on the maintenance team. Kept the ventilation system in good shape.”

“Down in the catacombs? There was that death a few years ago. A murder. Some kind of drug thing, if I remember correctly.”

I froze. Kylo. Was he talking about him? What did he know? And why was he bringing it up? I barely knew Zwiebus. Better not reveal anything about my connection to Kylo or my smuggling back then. Zwiebus said he’d worked as a deputy sheriff and didn’t think much of drugs.

“Right and wrong is a matter of perspective,” I told him. “E’tam, for example. For the Xi’an, it’s a meditation aid. Are you saying what the Xi’an do is wrong? This paternalism from the UEE is a thorn in my side. Everyone should have the freedom to decide for themselves.”

“I don’t know if you’re making this a little too simple for yourself,” Zwiebus replied. “I’ve seen what that stuff does. That’s why I’m glad it’s banned.”

“You’re denying people their ability to make decisions,” I countered.

“Let’s leave it at that,” Zwiebus finally said. “I don’t think we’re going to reach a conclusion tonight. Okay, one last crate, and then I’m calling it a day.”

“Okay, Zwiebus. Say hi to Pike for me,” I said as I bid him farewell. “I’ll transfer the proceeds from the job to you as soon as I can.”

Zwiebus left the hangar. I watched him go, lost in thought. A nice guy, a staunch supporter of the People’s Alliance, no friend of the UEE. Still, I wasn’t sure if I could open up to him.