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Asteroids jutted out of the nebula like black teeth. The remote region of the Nyx system was eerie. I took a deep breath and exhaled. My visor fogged up. Floating freely in space, I felt particularly small at the sight.

I looked away and secured the large tractor beam to the mount on the Salvation’s external storage compartment. The hatch closed. A brief burst from the EVA thrusters, and I glided backward toward the entryway of the small salvaging ship.

Below me, the open roof of the Ironclad gaped like a giant maw. I had just removed the stealth components from an Aegis Sabre and transported them with the tractor beam into the cargo hold of the “Rusty Brick.” Later, I planned to place them in the secure cargo area—alongside the stealth components from the Esperia Prowler that I’d found a few days ago. I had no intention of handing over the valuable components in Levski. I wanted to use them myself. I had plenty of other material for the People’s Alliance.

I floated somewhat sedately toward the pilot’s seat. It slid into the ship, and the cockpit closed. Monitors powered up, flickering briefly. Everything was in the clear. Before me lay the Sabre—silent, abandoned, ready for its new purpose. A click, and the salvage lasers sprang to life. Like greedy fingers, they ran over the hull, making the metal glow orange, melt, and vanish. A calm, almost meditative routine.

When only a skeleton remained, I flipped the switch. Flashes of lightning zapped, the energy field built up and gripped the Sabre like a fist. The fighter vibrated, groaned—and shattered. The Salvation could dismantle small ships, but not larger ones like the Prowler. The downside of the tiny hopper.

After all the parts had vanished into the Salvation’s belly, I turned the ship around. The asteroid field shifted in front of the cockpit. In the distance, something yellow and unnatural shimmered. A spaceship? The radar showed nothing. No—a structure on the asteroid.

I landed the Salvation in the Ironclad and flew the colossus closer to the asteroid. A large yellow-gray tube jutted out of the rock. “Gate B” was written on it. A tunnel, wide enough for a fighter.

My spirit of discovery stirred—but at the same time, I felt a slight tugging at the back of my neck, an instinctive warning signal I couldn’t quite place.

A flicker in the corner of my eye made me flinch. I whipped my head around. On the asteroid: red position lights, a flame, diffuse lighting. I yanked on the control stick. The Ironclad changed course sluggishly. The tunnel entrance glided past on the right; the lights drew nearer.

Then I saw the structure. A massive complex, half sunk into the asteroid, with an architectural style that didn’t fit Nyx. Wafts of mist swirled along the walls. The tube from Gate B led straight inside; two other tubes branched off to other sides of the asteroid. The sensors detected a high energy signature. What kind of facility was this?

My fingers clenched around the control stick. I didn’t know why—but there was this quiet, nagging feeling that I shouldn’t be here.

Without warning, a red warning light flashed. The shields melted like ice in the desert sun—50% and counting. Where was the fire coming from? I slammed the throttle forward and hit boost. The Ironclad shook, the engines roared.

“Mayday. Mayday. I’m under fire. My position is…”

Damn it, the radio was jammed. No one could hear me.

The boost gauge plummeted like a stone. The roar fell silent. I held my breath, staring at the shields. 10% … 20% … 30%. Made it.

I fired up the quantum drive and jumped to the first available point—the main thing was to get away. In the middle of it all, I stopped, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. What in the Prophet’s name was that? I transmitted the facility’s coordinates to Levski. Let them deal with it. I wasn’t ready for a fight. Then I went to bed. Enough excitement for today.

*

A piercing beep jolted me awake. I sat up in bed, looking around in confusion. A message was flashing on the monitor. I was wide awake in an instant. An emergency call—from a Caterpillar. Attack, boarding, crew barricaded in the command module.

The location was close—too close to ignore. But alone, without a crew to man the guns, there was little I could do. One option remained: scan from a distance. Maybe I could figure out who the attackers were. Finally, evidence of who was responsible for the increased attacks in the Nyx system.

I went into the cockpit and took off. Shortly afterward, I spotted the Caterpillar. A single Cutlass Black hovered above it. Radar: no contacts within a 30-kilometer radius. Scanner: no signs of life aboard the Cutlass, no identification.

I radioed the Caterpillar.

“I’m here because of your distress call. Undock the command module and get out of here.”

A trembling voice replied.

“We can’t—we’re low on power. I sent the engineer to check the power plant. But he’s not responding anymore.”

He had thrown one of his crew members to the pirates. I hated situations like this. I wasn’t a soldier. Not a hero. But damn it—these pirates were attacking everyone in the Nyx system. I couldn’t just stand by and watch. With a loud thud, I slammed my fist down on the instrument panel. Frustrated, I stood up, put on my heavy armor, and left the Ironclad, fully armed.

Weightless, I glided toward the Caterpillar’s open cargo ramp. As I passed the command module, I saw the captain sitting in a chair, his face in his hands, elbows on his knees—pure despair.

Sheltered by a few containers, I floated into the forward cargo module. My boots touched the floor—gravity. Good. With my weapon at the ready, I peered around the container: a guy in combat gear. I hesitated for a moment—I hated it, but it had to be done. The beam from my Ripper SMG struck his helmet; the material melted. He collapsed. I listened—eerie silence. Apparently, no one had noticed my intrusion.

I pressed myself along the wall into the next module. I looked up at the gangway. Secure high ground. With every step, the metal rungs of the ladder boomed. I paused at the top—silence. My stomach clenched.

I turned to the left; the bulkhead to the next module slid open. The pirate on the gangway stared at me in surprise. The laser beam from my weapon whizzed past his head. He jerked his rifle up. I adjusted my aim, hit him, and followed his movement until he was down. Adrenaline surged through me to the tips of my hair.

I stepped over the body. A metallic clack with every step. The next bulkhead slid open with a scrape. The gangway was clear. Bottom left: a container, an armed guy, engrossed in his Mobiglas. The Ripper spat out its fiery beam. He didn’t even notice he’d been hit. This small weapon, made from scrap metal, was quiet and effective.

Driven by rage and adrenaline, I moved on like a ghost, quietly taking out one pirate after another.

Finally, I reached the power plant. The engineer was lying on the floor—dead. The power plant: inactive. I looked for a switch—nothing. Somehow I had to get this thing up and running. I kept searching, next to the engineer, for a repair tool. I picked it up and repaired the power plant.

Then I radioed the captain.

“The pirates are taken care of and power has been restored. You can come out.”

“I don’t trust you. Leave the ship.”

What was that about? Was he in shock? Whatever he wanted—but there was one more thing I had to do: examine the dead pirates.

I didn’t recognize the armor. Plain, dark. No Claw Salamanders, no Shattered Blades. Who were these guys? I packed whatever would fit in my backpack and disembarked.

As I floated toward the Ironclad, my gaze fell on the Cutlass. An idea flashed through my mind. I changed course.

The stern ramp opened sluggishly. In the cargo hold, I could hardly believe my eyes: an armory full of weapons, components, and supply crates. A huge loot. Change of plans.

I shuttled back and forth between the Cutlass and the Ironclad several times, securing the loot. Then I downloaded the data from the navigation computer.

A short while later, I parked the ‘Rusty Brick’ outside the asteroid belt. Rebekka’s face flickered on the screen.

“I’m sending you the attackers’ navigation data. Maybe you can figure out where the Cutlass came from.”

Rebekka nodded.

“Good idea. And about the facility you found—we have no idea what it is. We’ll send an agent to take a closer look at it.”

Her image disappeared. I stood up and looked out the cockpit window. The faint glow of the asteroid belt stretched to the left and right like a transparent wall, narrowing and converging into a single point of light in the distance.

I was glad they weren’t sending me. Something about that facility was wrong.

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