[= Docking Data Acquired... =]


    Skov’s End


    Asteroid Colony, Freehold Space


    Standard Galactic Date: 2739, Cycle 06


    Station Cycle: 14:21


    [= Connection Stable =]


    The Valkyrion’s repairs were complete. Nyx had done her magic. After a few days of cutting, welding, and making sure every bolt and wire was just right, she’d finally declared the Valkyrion was flight-ready.


    The three of us stood together on the ramp, staring at the ship.


    It felt heavy. The quiet weight you only get before a mission you might not come back from.


    Nyx broke the silence, looking at me with a grin. She held out a small device, sleek and matte black. A stealth beacon with her the usual extra flair and, knowing her, a few tricks she hadn’t told me about.


    “Ere,” she said, pressing it into my hand. “Call it… a parting gift.”


    Then, without asking, she slipped her arms around me and pulled me into a hug. It lingered longer than it needed to. Long enough to say more than her words ever would.


    “Wait. You’re not coming with us?” I asked.


    Nyx tilted her head, her golden eyes wide, voice soft. “‘Did you want me to, Commandant?”


    I felt heat crawl up my neck. “Obviously. Who else is gonna keep the ship from falling apart?”


    Her smirk widened. “I thought that’s what Ares was for?”


    “Ares may be almost sentient, but even he can’t do the kind of repairs you can. He doesn’t have a body. Go grab your stuff and let’s get off this rock.”


    She gave me a mock-sigh, but there was a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. “Fine. Walk with me to my place, then. I’m not making two trips.”


    I snorted, nudging her shoulder. “Still using me to carry your stuff? Classic.”


    She shot me a look, feigned innocence mixing with amusement. “You? Used? I just worked on your ship for three days straight. For free.”


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    “Yeah, yeah, keep reminding me,” I muttered, trailing after her.


    Zara fell in step behind us, her mouth pressed in a thin line, but I didn’t miss the way her gaze kept darting from me to Nyx, like she was weighing something in her mind.


    Nyx leaned in close, lowering her voice. “I zink she’s still jealous.”


    I chuckled, trying to keep my voice low. “You’re terrible at reading people. Pretty sure she just hates us.”


    Nyx just winked, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Per’aps. But zhat only makes it more fun, non?”


    ***


    Orbiting Kelthar-3.


    The cold blue planet spun below us, swathed in thick, ominous clouds.


    Onboard the Valkyrion, the tension was high. Zara sat at the weapons console, checking power levels like they might change if she glared hard enough. Nyx lounged nearby, legs crossed, her expression unreadable, probably just waiting for me to say go.


    Ares broke the silence, voice crisp and clinical over the comms. “Commander. I’ve finished running the deep-scan overlays. The blacksite’s primary defense grid is active, thermal dampening, encrypted surveillance, two orbital drones on a looping patrol pattern. Standard TRNC covert infrastructure.”


    I leaned over the console, studying the rotating holo-schematic Ares projected above the display. “Entry points?”


    “Limited. One surface access, likely for supply and personnel movement. Internal transport lift connects to the deeper facility levels. Perimeter defenses appear automated. No scheduled inbound traffic logged in the last six cycles.”


    “And Yuki’s last ping?”


    Ares paused. “Ten days ago. Inside the facility perimeter. After that, radio silence.”


    If Yuki wasn’t responding, either she was deep undercover… or something had gone sideways.


    “She could’ve been made,” Zara said flatly.


    Nyx glanced at her, then back to me. “Or she is still working from inside. Zese blacksites, very compartmentalized. Silence might be part of ze job.”


    “Or it’s the prelude to a body count,” I muttered.


    The map rotated slowly, highlighting weak points, power nodes, a secondary entrance too small for standard craft, and an unshielded maintenance bay deep along the canyon wall. Not ideal. But better than nothing.


    I exhaled and crossed my arms. “We’re not walking in through the front door. We need a workaround.”


    Zara tilted her head. “Disguise?”


    Nyx perked up. “Ooh, infiltration. You know I love a good costume.”


    “I’m not wearing a wig, Nyx.”


    She pouted.


    Zara shot me a look. “Why don’t you just pull on one of those old Republic uniforms you’ve got laying around and stroll right in?”


    I scoffed, shaking my head. “You think a Commander’s uniform would get me into a blacksite? Those places aren’t for dress blues, they’re for… well, spec ops. Intelligence types. Not officers in shiny pins.”


    Ares interjected again. “One personnel file shows recent clearance transfers. A low-ranking logistics officer is scheduled for reassignment within the day. I may be able to overwrite biometric data and falsify entry credentials, if we intercept him en route.”


    I glanced at the display. “That gives us a face and a reason to be there.”


    “Correct,” Ares said. “It also places you under less scrutiny, assuming you can act the part.”


    Zara snorted. “Oh, he can fake being a cog in a machine. He did it for years.”


    I didn’t argue.


    “Then we’ve got our in,” I said. “Get me those credentials. Prep the infiltration gear. We hit the intercept window clean, we don’t spook anyone. Once we’re inside... we find Astra.”