The dawn glow of the Leviathan Belt painted The Vulture's Grin in pale amber as it drifted above Sector 9's scarred landscapes. Hatch lights blinked on, casting soft halos on steel decks. Inside the command module, the crew moved like clockwork—each member steeped in routine, yet on edge.
Zai Ren stood at the long-range scanner, every nerve thrumming with anticipation. His fingers danced over the holocontrol, isolating a faint, encrypted tracer loop buried beneath static.
"Tamika," he called, voice tight. "Scan deck for hostile pings on this frequency."
Tamika's cyber-gloved hands blurred as she tapped into the external array. "Got it—life sign signature matching your neural ID, then—and then it loops again. They're hunting you, Zai."
Zai's heart stuttered. This was no random raid. Someone knew exactly what—or who—they sought.
Specter chimed in, a sotto voce whisper in his mind. "High-priority asset: you. Tracers converging. Probability of strike team arrival in T-minus fifteen."
Zai turned at the sound of soft footsteps.
"You alright?" Kira asked, appearing at the module's entrance, her case tucked under one arm.
He managed a tense smile. "Yeah. Just—routine scan. Except it's not." He tapped the tracer overlay. "They've locked onto me."
Her brow furrowed. "We'll handle it." She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, eyes fierce yet vulnerable.
He offered a corner of comfort. "Come on. Let's grab a quick breakfast before Rhys calls the briefing."
In the mess hall, the crew clustered around a battered table strewn with nutrient bars and synth-brew mugs. Zai took a seat beside Kira, whose case stood like a silent sentinel between them.
Old Jin looked up from his datapad. "Strange ping last night?"
Kira's hand hovered over the case. Zai cleared his throat. "Someone's searching for that—that data frequency."
Rhys entered, expression guarded. "Briefing in five. I want eyes on this map." She laid out the holo-map—coordinates to the Undergrid Archives, an ancient server farm beneath Sector 9's industrial ruins.
"Our job is simple," Rhys continued. "Extract the logs tied to your map fragment, Kira. Then we get out. No heroics."
Kira swallowed. "I—understand."
Tamika leaned forward. "Any idea why they want that case so bad?"
Kira hesitated, glancing at Zai. He gave her a subtle nod. She lifted the case. "It carries a fragment of a codex—an encrypted key. I can't explain more without drawing... attention." She met Zai's eyes. "Not yet."
Rhys tapped the map. "We're dropping you two off near the West Substation. Zai is flying the Grin's scout skiff on a diversion run—draw their fire. Could be pirates, mercs, or worse. Objective: buy you fifteen minutes."
Zai clenched his jaw. "Understood."
Tamika sighed. "Good luck out there." She squeezed Kira's arm—an unspoken truce between scavenger and outsider.
Moments later, Zai prepped the stealth skiff: a streamlined hull laced with dampening arrays. He paused at the cockpit.
"Be safe," Kira said, voice low. "Come back to us."
He gave a half-smile. "Always do." He climbed in and sealed the hatch.
Specter's HUD flared. "Initiating diversion protocol. Recommended vector: 14 by 22 arc. Thruster burn in T-minus three."
Zai tightened his harness.* "Here we go."
Back on The Vulture's Grin, Rhys guided Old Jin through last-minute checks while Tamika and Kira suited up in armored exoshells. The mess hall emptied, tension pooling in the stale air.
Rhys placed a hand on Kira's shoulder. "Stay focused. We'll be watching your feed."
Kira nodded, determination shining. She hefted the case. "I won't let you down."
The scout skiff separated from the Grin, engines humming bass notes as it dove toward the sector's fringe. Zai's display lit with multiple contacts—fast-moving blips converging on the Grin's beacon.
"Specter, estimate time to intercept."
"Nine minutes to scrubbing. Primary threat signature: Class-R scavenger strike team—heavily armed. Secondary: potential orbital snare units. Recommend immediate burn."
Zai kicked thrusters into afterburn, skidding past decaying ore pods. Behind him, The Vulture's Grin flickered on the targeting scopes of inbound raider skiffs.
He looped in front of one squadron, weaving between debris. Fragile boulders and twisted metal became cover. Raider lasfire streaked past.
"Direct hit on starboard stabilizer—divert to port thrusters!" Specter urged.
Zai gritted his teeth, redirecting output. The skiff shuddered but held.
Meanwhile, beneath Sector 9, Kira and Tamika slipped through the rusting undercroft of the Undergrid complex. Their exo-boots clicked against grated pathways, flickers of ancient banners overhead.
"This place gives me the creeps," Tamika whispered, scanning with her ocular implant. "Feels... alive."
Kira's gaze lingered on faded glyphs etched into support pillars. "These archives once held the galaxy's secrets. Now half-buried, a ghost network waiting for the right key." She unfolded a holo-scroll and aligned it with murals on the wall.
Specter's uplink crackled in their suits. **"Thirty seconds until skiff re-enters Grin's wake. Extraction window closing. Be swift."
They rounded a corner into a vaulted chamber where terminal banks stood like sentinels. Kira knelt, attaching the case's interface cable to the console port.
"Loading... decrypting..." she murmured as progress bars flicked.
Tamika scanned turret sensors. "Heat signature spike ahead—auto-defense grid rebooting."
Red strobes flashed. Mechanical whirs crescendoed as turret barrels emerged from grates above.
"Cover me," Kira said, eyes never leaving the console. "Just a few more seconds."
Tamika raised her plasma pistol. "You got it!"
Bullets clanged against vault doors as Tamika and Kira danced between fire and code. Each burst shook the ground.
"Unlocked! Data stream open!" Kira called.
Files downloaded into her case—ancient schematics, dossiers on forgotten lineages, encoded logs.
A groan of metal. The chamber doors began to grind shut—locking them in.
"No time!" Tamika shouted.
Kira yanked the case free. "Run!"
They sprinted back toward the entry corridor, turret fire bubbling behind them.
Above, Zai's diversion had worked—The Vulture's Grin slipped free as raider skiffs chased the phantom skiff. He made a tight burn and looped back toward the Grin's ventral docking bay.
His uplink chirped: **"Extraction phase complete. Rendezvous inbound. Hostiles re-engaging."
He punched thrusters, weaving through debris to meet the Grin.
In the docking bay, the Grin's bay doors whispered open. Tamika and Kira tumbled inside just as Zai's skiff hit the magnetic locks.
Rhys's voice boomed: "Status!"
Tamika keyed her mic. "We're in. Data secured. Turrets still hot."
Old Jin slammed the bay controls. "Shutters closing!"
In moments, the Grin sealed, engines roaring as they veered away.
Moments of quiet flooded the bay. Kira leaned against the bulkhead, breath ragged, her case clutched to her chest. Tamika sank beside her, adrenaline still pulsing.
Zai and Rhys exchanged relieved glances.
"Good work," Rhys said. "But they'll be back. Whoever sent those skiffs knows more than I like."
Kira lifted her gaze to Zai. "Thank you... both of you."
Zai stepped forward. "We're in this together now."
Specter's voice glowed in Zai's mind: **"Warning: new faction engagement likely. Asset status critical. You both should rest."
He gave Kira a firm nod. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we decrypt and plan our next move."
Outside the viewport, the Leviathan Belt shimmered in silent watch.
And inside, four unlikely allies braced for the storm ahead.