The common room of the Ghostline was unusually quiet.
Not silent.
Never silent.
The ship constantly hummed around them:
- distant ventilation fans
- the low vibration of the reactor
- occasional metallic creaks from old repairs Elias swore were “structurally acceptable”
But for once, nobody was shooting at them.
Brakk Mercer sat heavily on one of the benches near the central table, cleaning part of a rifle the size of a small artillery cannon.
Rhea lounged nearby with her boots propped up across another chair while Aya sat at the far end of the room sharpening a knife with slow, careful movements.
Elias was half-buried inside an open maintenance panel beside the wall.
Malak Voss leaned back in his chair spinning a data chip between his fingers.
A star map rotated faintly above the table.
Several blinking markers floated across the outer sectors.
Brakk finally broke the silence.
“So where’s this signal even coming from?”
Elias looked up immediately.
“We don’t know.”
Brakk frowned.
“That’s comforting.”
“It’s old,” Elias continued anyway. “Older than most modern navigation records. Some parts of it repeat in patterns that don’t match any known language structure.”
Rhea glanced toward the star map.
“You really think it’s connected to the First?”
That got everyone’s attention.
Even Aya looked up slightly.
Malak caught the movement.
Interesting.
Elias slid out from beneath the panel and wiped grease from his hands.
“It would explain the age.”
Brakk snorted.
“You people seriously believe the First were real?”
Malak looked offended.
“Brakk, there are literally confirmed ruins older than recorded human expansion.”
“Old ruins don’t mean galaxy-ruling ancient super civilization.”
Elias pointed at him aggressively.
“Actually statistically it makes perfect sense.”
“That sentence already annoys me.”
Elias ignored him.
“Multiple civilizations across multiple sectors discovered identical structural materials, identical mathematical patterns, and energy signatures nobody can reproduce.”
Rhea tilted her head.
“But nobody knows who built them.”
“Exactly,” Elias said.
Malak finally sat forward.
“The galaxy calls them the First because people assumed they were the first intelligent species to spread across known space.”
Aya spoke quietly for the first time in several minutes.
“But nobody knows that.”
Everyone looked at her.
Aya slowly lowered the knife.
“It could’ve happened before them too.”
The room went quieter.
Malak nodded slowly.
“Exactly.”
Brakk frowned harder now.
“That’s somehow worse.”
“It is worse,” Elias said immediately.
He walked toward the star map and expanded several highlighted sectors.
“There’s evidence civilizations rise, spread, vanish, and leave almost nothing behind except fragments.”
“Cheery conversation,” Rhea muttered.
Elias pointed at another blinking region.
“The terrifying part is how little remains. If the First controlled even a fraction of the galaxy people think they did…”
He hesitated.
“Where did everything go?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Because nobody had one.
Finally Brakk grunted.
“Well whatever ancient ghosts are hiding out there can wait.”
He pointed toward Malak.
“What’s our next move?”
Malak leaned back again.
“Thinking.”
“That’s usually when bad things happen,” Rhea said.
“I heard that.”
Elias suddenly perked up.
“We could go to Xenon.”
Malak narrowed his eyes slightly.
“That suspiciously specific suggestion ready to go?”
“No.”
Too fast.
Brakk immediately pointed at him.
“He’s lying.”
Elias ignored him.
“Xenon’s independent. Heavy trade traffic. Easy place to disappear for a while.”
The star map shifted again as he brought up the system.
Three planets appeared.
“The restricted world is Xenara,” Elias explained. “Nobody allowed near it without authorization.”
Brakk folded his arms.
“And?”
“And the system’s defense fleet is absurdly strong for an independent territory.”
That got Malak’s attention.
“How strong?”
“Strong enough that even the Federated Colonies avoid provoking them.”
Rhea raised an eyebrow.
“For one system?”
Elias nodded.
“They patrol constantly.”
Another planet appeared on the display.
“Xenforge handles industrial production. Refineries, ship components, asteroid processing.”
A massive asteroid belt expanded across the hologram.
“Mining operations everywhere. They basically manufacture everything locally.”
“And the third planet?” Aya asked.
Elias tried to sound casual.
“Xenith.”
Brakk squinted.
“Xenith.”
“It’s commercial.”
“Commercial.”
“Shopping.”
Brakk stared harder.
“You want to go shopping.”
Elias crossed his arms defensively.
“I need equipment.”
“Dangerous sentence.”
“I found a drone manufacturer.”
Malak immediately understood.
“You miss field work.”
Elias looked away.
“A little.”
That answer landed harder than expected.
Because it was true.
Before Brakk.
Before Aya.
Before all of them.
It had just been Malak and Elias against the galaxy.
Now Elias spent more time inside engineering than anywhere else.
Malak noticed the frustration immediately.
Brakk noticed too.
Which meant teasing was inevitable.
“You remember the last time he bought ‘equipment’?”
Rhea groaned.
“Oh no.”
“It worked,” Elias argued instantly.
“It exploded.”
“It exploded correctly.”
“It exploded through our cargo ramp.”
“That was ONE time.”
“You used half our money.”
Elias pointed angrily.
“The thermal output exceeded projections!”
Brakk looked at Malak.
“He’s doing it again.”
Malak grinned.
“Set course for Xenon.”
The commercial world of Xenith was overwhelming.
Towering advertisement screens covered entire buildings.
Transit traffic moved endlessly overhead.
Crowded streets glowed with neon reflections beneath artificial evening skies.
The planet existed for one purpose:
Sell people things they didn’t need.
Elias loved it instantly.
Brakk hated it within twelve minutes.
“This planet smells expensive.”
“That’s because you’re standing next to a perfume vendor.”
“I don’t trust anything that sparkles.”
“You don’t trust chairs.”
“Some chairs deserve it.”
The drone shop sat halfway down one of the larger market districts.
Rows of hovering machines filled the interior:
- surveillance drones
- cargo drones
- repair drones
- military surplus drones that were definitely illegal somewhere
Elias looked like he’d entered a religious experience.
Brakk immediately spotted the salesman approaching.
Tall.
Perfect smile.
Dangerous.
Salesman smile.
Brakk cracked his knuckles.
“Oh no.”
Elias blinked.
“What?”
“You let me handle this.”
“Why?”
“Because you’d pay double asking price.”
“We have the money.”
Brakk physically recoiled.
“Never say that out loud again.”
The salesman arrived.
“Welcome to—”
“How much for the reconnaissance model?” Brakk interrupted.
The salesman named a price.
Brakk looked horrified.
“That’s robbery.”
“It’s high-grade equipment—”
Elias leaned toward Brakk.
“That’s actually within standard market range.”
Brakk glared at him.
“Whose side are you on?”
“The economically correct side.”
The salesman tried again.
“These drones are capable of—”
“We’ll take two,” Elias said.
Brakk nearly choked.
“No we won’t.”
“Yes we will.”
“Not at THAT price.”
“We can afford it.”
“STOP HELPING.”
The salesman stared at both of them in growing disbelief while the argument continued directly in front of him.
“We don’t need negotiation theatrics.”
“It’s not theatrics. It’s principle.”
“You literally told me beforehand you intended to pay this amount.”
“That information was confidential.”
Elias sighed dramatically.
“Can we please just buy the drones and leave?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
The salesman closed his eyes briefly.
“…ten percent off.”
Silence.
Brakk and Elias slowly looked at each other.
Then smiled.
The salesman pointed toward the exit immediately.
“Please leave my store.”
Several districts away, Malak, Rhea, and Aya occupied a booth inside a crowded local bar.
Music echoed across the room.
People shouted over each other near gaming tables while colored lights flashed across the ceiling.
Aya sat perfectly straight with visible suspicion directed at the drink in front of her.
Rhea noticed immediately.
“You’ve never had alcohol before.”
Aya looked offended.
“I know what alcohol is.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Malak leaned against the table grinning.
“You’ve absolutely never drank before.”
Aya narrowed her eyes.
“I have survived poison training.”
“That is somehow less reassuring.”
Rhea laughed.
“Just try it.”
Aya stared at the glass like it had personally insulted her.
Then finally took a sip.
Immediate regret.
Her expression barely changed.
But barely was enough.
Malak burst out laughing first.
Rhea nearly fell sideways in the booth.
“Oh my god she hates it.”
Aya set the glass down carefully.
“It tastes corrupted.”
That somehow made them laugh harder.
Aya looked between them both.
Annoyed.
Competitive.
Dangerously determined.
Without another word—
—she grabbed the entire drink and finished it in one pull.
Malak blinked.
“…well that was aggressive.”
Aya set the empty glass down with absolute confidence.
“I am unaffected.”
Three minutes later she was standing beside a karaoke terminal singing an ancient obscure song nobody in the bar recognized.
Completely seriously.
Not one ounce of embarrassment.
Her voice wasn’t bad either.
Which somehow made the situation even stranger.
Rhea was crying laughing into the table.
Malak looked moments away from passing out.
Aya continued the performance with terrifying emotional commitment.
Half the bar stared in confused silence.
The other half started cheering simply because of how intense she was.
Then Brakk and Elias walked into the bar.
Both stopped immediately.
Aya pointed dramatically toward absolutely nobody while continuing the song.
Brakk slowly turned toward Malak.
“…what happened?”
Malak wiped tears from his eyes.
“She lost a fight with alcohol.”
“I did not lose,” Aya said without missing a lyric.
Elias looked fascinated.
“…I didn’t know she could sing.”
Neither did Aya.
That was the scary part.