UGT (Unified Galactic Time): 13th Revol (July) 280 a.G.A. (after Galactic Armistace) / 8:56 p.m.

  Location: IMS (Independent Mining Ship) Patrolship Second Chance, Wehrmal system (red dwarf), (Outer-)Noran Principality, Kingdom of Ferron, Milky Way

  The IMS Second Chance limped through spaces on old, outdated thrusters that should have been replaced five years ago. Inside, everything hummed just a little too loudly, proving just how strained pretty much every part of the spaceship was.

  Arin Vale sat hunched over the navigation console, fingers dancing with practiced familiarity across a patchwork interface of original Ferron software, jury-rigged civilian overlays, and hand-written macros that only he and his sister understood anymore. The ship’s systems complained pretty much constantly nowadays. A thermal variance here, microfracture warnings there, but luckily none of it was critical enough to threaten their return to the harbor where they would have to once more pay for the most basic massively overpriced repairs. At least those they couldn't do themselves.

  "What's our fuel margin?" he asked his sister without looking up from the console.

  "Enough to get back to the harbor," Lysa replied from the rear console, eyes flicking between sensor readouts and the cargo mass estimates. "But we'll need to refuel. If the inspectors decide to be thorough, we’re eating nutrient bars for another month."

  Arin snorted. "Of course we are." That also meant another month without them being able to pay back their debt interest.

  The IMS Second Chance was an old Ferron Patrolship, eighty meters of boxy, utilitarian hull never meant for mining, and also not meant to be flown by two people. But they had made it work, reconstructing big parts of the ship to make it both possible and to make sure they would be able to squeeze just enough cargo into it, so that their mining operations may prove profitable. Still, they barely managed to get by each month.

  The outer mining belt had thinned hours ago. Most of the other small operators had already formed up under Ferron patrol escort, heading planetward in neat, compliant lines. Arin and Lysa had stayed behind to finish one last pull, a dense seam of uncommon composite ore that would hopefully shave another few days off their interest payments, depending on the Ferron inspector's mood when they entered the harbor again. They were more than willing to make up additional taxes just for the sake of it should they felt bothered.

  Still, due to their decision, they now had to get back to the harbor on their own. "No patrol transponders around," Lysa said quietly.

  Arin frowned. "Really not a single one? We aren't even that late."

  "Seems like the Captains of the Ferron patrol preferred to quit work early today," Lysa said with a shake of her head. That wasn't the first time after all that the Ferron patrols assigned to the miners decided to pack up and leave earlier than they should.

  Arin glanced at the long-range display. "Then let’s not loiter any longer," he said. "The faster we're back in the harbor the better. These regions aren't entirely safe after all."

  Before Lysa could answer, the proximity alarm screamed. Arin’s heart dropped into his stomach. Hed jinxed it, hadn't he?

  A contact blossomed on the display, an angular, compact, unmistakably military in silhouette. "Cutter," Lysa breathed. "That’s a Ferron Cutter and it has its weapons on us!"

  The hull bore the scars of hard use, its weapon ports exposed and very much alive. Maybe outdated, but definitely still functioning. The two of them had just run into an actual pirate vessel. Arin swallowed. "They wouldn’t-"

  The hail cut him off. A harsh, distorted voice filled the bridge. "IMS... Second Chance, based on your transponder signal. This is free salvage territory. Power down engines and prepare for boarding, for your little refurnished Patrolship won't get a third chance."

  Lysa’s hands were already shaking. Still, they weren't stupid enough to argue with an armed vessel. Their own Patrolship only had the cheapest of shields and a single old mining laser. They wouldn't stand a chance should it come to blows. And years of scraping by had taught them one unshakable truth. Pride would kill them far faster than any accumulating debt.

  Arin quickly keyed the transmitter. "We heard you loud and clear. As a civilian mining operation, we are obligated to inform you that we are under the protection of Ferron and that any actions against us will be met with consequences. Now, I will power down our engines, shields and mining lasers."

  "Done with your empty phrases of legal nonsense? Good," the pirate replied. "I accept total cooperation or you will be little more than frozen bodies in space soon."

  Arin, deciding not to respond to that, shut down the main thrusters with a sigh. Lysa rerouted power away from anything that might look like resistance. The IMS Second Chance drifted, helpless. The pirate Cutter meanwhile closed in with predatory ease, soon after launching three assault pods.

  Lysa closed her eyes. "They’ll take the ore," she whispered. "The ship. Everything we worked towards. We're lucky if we get away with our lives."

  Arin nodded, fists clenched. "I know, but what other choice do we have? We need to pray for the best and can only blame ourselves for becoming too greedy."

  The impact of the assault pods came a few minutes later, metal slamming against the old hull that groaned under the strain, docking clamps biting deep. Internal pressure alarms flared and then stabilized as forced docking collars bit into the outer hull. Red warning lights washed across the bridge. Arin felt his stomach twist.

  "They’re in," Lysa said, her voice tight.

  They heard boots hitting the deck platin soon after. Voices echoed down the corridors, laughing, barking orders, and confidently dividing up the ship. "Bridge team moving," came the voice from outside of the door.

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  Arin barely had time to stand before the hatch controls locked out and the door slid open. Three figures stepped through, weapons raised, not crude slug throwers as they'd expected from pirates, but compact energy carbines with worn but lethal focusing arrays. Their armor was mismatched, scavenged from half a dozen sources, but it was clear that these pirates were experienced.

  As they entered the Bridge the lead pirate froze, his eyes quickly scanning over the room while only shortly flicking over Arin and Lyra. "…Where’s the rest of you?" he demanded, while aiming his weapon again. The other pirates did the same."

  Arin swallowed. "It’s just us."

  A sharp laugh. "Cute." The pirate stepped closer, weapon inches from Arin’s chest. "This ship’s rated for a minimum of 10 people. Do you really expect me to believe two college brats are running it alone?"

  Lysa lifted her hands slowly. "We are. You can check the logs, life support, crew manifests, even our taxes! It's just us two."

  "Yeah, we will!" the pirate snapped. "After we make sure you don’t try anything stupid, that is."

  Two pirates moved immediately, one ripping the sidearm from Arin’s belt, the other forcing Lysa down into a seat and slapping a restraint band around her wrist.

  "Search teams!" the leader barked. "I want a full sweep. Crack every compartment! If there’s hidden crew, I want them dragged out and preferably neutralized! It's what they deserve for hiding from us!"

  Minutes stretched painfully as pirates fanned out, tearing open sealed sections, forcing access to former crew quarters, cursing when they found nothing but more filled ore storage. "This is bullshit," someone muttered over the open channel. "There’s nobody here."

  "That’s impossible!" the leader snapped. "Nobody flies a ship of this size with just two people!"

  Arin’s pulse hammered. If they didn’t believe them, that made things worse and not better. The pirates hadn’t decided what to do with them yet. And if the pirates thought they planned on crossing them...

  Suddenly every display on the Bridge flickered, the sensors recalibrating themselves. Something that normally only happened when an object left hyperspace close by, which wouldn't be realistically possible this deep inside the system. There was no hyperlane entry here.

  "What the hell-?" one pirate started.

  Lysa’s eyes snapped to the external feed. Outside the viewport and close to the pirates Cutter hung a perfect sphere, hundreds of meters across, dark and seamless, its surface swallowing light instead of reflecting it. No engine glow, no clear weapon ports. The hull seemingly held no identifiable structure at all. The IMS Second Chance's classification software went berserk.

  UNKNOWN MASS SIGNATURE

  NO TRANSPONDER RESPONSE

  FALLBACK HEURISTICS ENGAGED

  BATTLECRUISER-CLASS THREAT DETECTED

  "What the fuck is that-!" someone shouted over the pirate channel.

  "That’s not Ferron!" another voice yelled, panic bleeding through the comm. "Ferron Battlecruisers don’t just appear out of nowhere!"

  On the bridge, the pirate leader spun toward the viewport, his face draining of color. "Our own people are reacting!" a pirate screamed from deeper in the ship. "They’re locking weapons-"

  Suddenly the spherical Battlecruiser fired, leaving the pirate Cutter no room to react. Multiple small objects pierced the Cutter, which instantly went up in a sizeable explosion that surely even Ferron would notice. The pirate leader staggered back a step. "...What?" he croaked, his face full of disbelief.

  Someone screamed. Another pirate laughed hysterically. "No, no, no! This isn’t happening, this cannot be happening!"

  Panic practically exploded from that point onwards. Weapons came up and shouting drowned out the comms. "Move! Move! Grab the hostages!"

  Arin barely had time to react before a pirate yanked him out of his seat, slamming him against the console. A weapon pressed into his ribs hard enough to bruise.

  "Don’t move!" the pirate snarled. "Don't even think of trying anything!"

  Lysa screamed as another pirate dragged her back, wrenching her arms behind her. "They’re here for us," one of the pirates shouted. "They’ll think twice of just blasting us out of space if we’re holding leverage!"

  "Shut up!" the leader barked, his voice cracking. "Everyone fall back to the Bridge and prepare to repel a boarding!"

  While the pirate leaders’ commands were sound, they came too late. The IMS Second Chance shuddered again, the impacts unmistakable, even if they were softer than the ones from the pirate’s assault pods. Hull sensors screamed as containment fields phased through armor and sealed without decompression.

  "What the hell kind of pods are those?!" someone yelled.

  "Contacts inside the ship!" another screamed. "Multiple! They-!" The pirate cut off mid-sentence. A pulse cracked through the corridor outside the Bridge.

  Arin saw the pirate leader turn white as a sheet. But before he could do anything, massive, armored robots marched through the door, weird futuristic weapons drawn. Dark, angular forms unfolded from the smoke, optics flaring as they assessed the room in microseconds. Integrated kinetic weapons rotated and fired in controlled bursts.

  A pirate squeezed the trigger of his weapon before going down, but his shot showed no effect whatsoever. Another pirate tried to pull Lysa closer as human shield, but the machine’s weapon snapped up instantly, a bright green beam simply disintegrating him. Arin felt the pressure vanish from his ribs as the pirate holding him died, half of the pirates’ body having simply vanished.

  The entire engagement lasted no longer than two seconds. When it was over, the bridge was littered with unconscious or dead pirates, the air thick with the stench of blood and entrails.

  One of the machines turned toward Arin and Lysa. Lysa whimpered silently while Arin closed his eyes, knowing what would come next.

  Suddenly the restraints around his hands unlocked with a soft click, and Arin blinked in surprise. Another robot was getting rid of Lysa's restraints as well. The robots were... freeing them?

  Suddenly with a click one of the three robots started to speak with a mechanical voice. "Arin and Lysa Vale. You have my promise that you are safe. The hostile presence aboard your vessel, as well as in the surrounding space has been neutralized."

  Arin’s knees almost gave out. "Who… What are you?" he managed.

  A short pause followed before the mechanical voice answered again. "I am Naori. I have a divine mission to fulfill in the name of my creator. That is all you need to know for now. though more information may follow shortly."

  Arin didn't really know what to say to that.

  "You were tested," Naori continued. "You chose surrender over defiance. Preservation over pride. That choice was, among other things, what I searched for and allowed intervention on my part."

  Lysa’s voice trembled. "Tested… for what?"

  "For a job offer," Naori said. "Which I will now explain in more detail."

  The weight of the moment pressed down on the bridge. "I require intermediaries," Naori continued. "Licensed operators within Ferron space. Individuals burdened by debt, constrained by authority, yet capable of discretion."

  Arin’s heart thundered. "...What would we get out of this?" he managed to ask.

  "I can nullify your obligations and debts," Naori said evenly. "Upgrade your vessel beyond Ferron civilian limits. Shield you from future predation. And so much more."

  Lysa let out a shaky laugh. "And what do you want in return?"

  The answer came instantly. "That is something I would rather discuss in person. If you are interested, I would invite you to meet me on my ship. You may refuse and you will be returned to orbit. Ferron patrols will arrive shortly. They will ask questions though that you might find hard to answer."

  Arin and Lysa looked at each other. While Naori's words sounded like a choice, they doubted it. Still, they nodded at each other.

  "Very well. We'll meet with you in person to discuss you... job offer in more detail."