Phobos' spaceport bustled with activity, a constant churn of cargo haulers, techs in grease-stained uniforms, and stern-faced soldiers in their dark, crisp uniforms. Claudius navigated through the chaotic flow of people, keeping his eyes forward and his hand pressed against the box inside his jacket. He had made it this far, but he knew his real challenge had only just begun.
The gray sky of Phobos, tinged by Mars' distant glow, cast an eerie pallor over everything. The structures around him were stark and utilitarian, designed for function over form. Modular buildings rose from the rocky surface like cold, metallic tumors, each one dedicated to the maintenance of the military and commercial operations that flowed through this small Martian moon. Phobos was a hub for those on the edge of the law, where Imperial oversight often turned a blind eye to certain kinds of business.
As he moved deeper into the maze of terminals and storage hangars, Claudius felt his nerves tighten. He had no idea who Draven's contact was, or where to find them. Every face that passed by seemed indifferent, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him.
Claudius' thoughts raced. He needed a plan, or at least some direction. Deliver the package—that had been the deal. Simple enough on paper, but without knowing who to give it to, he was wandering blind. And while the box was light, the weight of its implications pressed harder on him with each step.
His first instinct was to find some quiet corner of the spaceport and wait, hoping the contact would find him. But sitting idle made him feel vulnerable. He needed to keep moving.
He turned into a quieter section of the spaceport, where the crowds thinned, and the clamor of machinery dulled to a low rumble. He passed rows of cargo crates stacked high and dark alcoves where shadows lingered longer than they should. His footsteps echoed on the metal grating beneath him, the rhythmic clanging the only sound in this quieter part of the port.
Just as Claudius was beginning to question whether he'd made the right choice to leave the main terminal, a voice pierced the silence behind him.
"Lost, are we?" The voice was smooth, too casual for the dark corner from which it emerged.
Claudius stopped dead, his instincts flaring. He didn't turn immediately, instead taking a moment to steady his breath. Slowly, he turned to see a figure standing in the shadows of a nearby storage unit. The man was tall, his features mostly hidden beneath a hood, but the glint of cybernetic implants on his hands and neck caught the dim light.
"I'm fine," Claudius said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Just looking for my way to the Academy grounds."
The figure stepped closer, emerging slightly into the light. His face was a mixture of flesh and metal, one eye glowing faintly with a soft red hue, the other cold and human. He smiled, though it was anything but friendly.
"Funny place to be looking for that," the man said, his voice laced with amusement. "Phobos is a big moon. Lots of places for people to disappear."
Claudius took a small step back, his mind racing. Was this Draven's contact? Or someone else, drawn to him for less-than-friendly reasons? He couldn't afford to take risks, but he also couldn't afford to be too cautious.
"I don't have any business with you," Claudius said, keeping his tone neutral, though his pulse was quickening.
"Ah, but you do," the man said, his smile widening as his gaze flickered down to Claudius' jacket—where the outline of the box must have been just barely visible beneath the fabric. "You're carrying something important. Something I'm very interested in."
Claudius tensed, his hand instinctively tightening around the box. This was bad. Whoever this guy was, he wasn't here for a friendly chat. Claudius needed to think fast.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Claudius said, stepping back again, this time more deliberately. His eyes darted around, searching for an escape route. But the corridor was narrow, flanked by rows of crates and storage units. There wasn't much room to maneuver, and the man was between him and the more populated areas of the spaceport.
"Come on, kid," the man said, his tone softening in mock sympathy. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be. Hand it over, and I'll make sure you walk away. You don't want to see what happens if you don't."
Claudius' mind raced, weighing his options. He could try to fight, but this guy looked experienced, and the cybernetic enhancements likely made him stronger than Claudius. Running wasn't much of an option either—not in these tight quarters.
But then an idea sparked in Claudius' mind. He didn't need to fight or flee—he just needed to stall.
"I'm supposed to deliver this," Claudius said, slowly moving his hand away from the box and raising both palms in a gesture of surrender. "I don't even know what's in it. It's not mine."
The man tilted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his human eye. "Who sent you?"
"Someone on Neoterra," Claudius said. "I'm just the messenger. But if you're the one who's supposed to receive it, you're going to need to prove that."
For a moment, the man hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face. Claudius knew he was taking a huge risk—if this wasn't the contact, he had just alerted this stranger to the value of the package. But if he played it right, he might buy himself enough time to escape.
"I wasn't born yesterday, kid," the man said, but the amusement in his voice had lessened. He stepped closer, his mechanical eye narrowing. "You're stalling."
Claudius' heart pounded, and he prepared to move. His eyes darted to a narrow alleyway between two rows of crates just a few meters away. If he could reach it, he might have a chance to lose the man in the maze of storage containers.
Just as the man stepped closer, Claudius acted. He shoved a nearby crate toward the man with all his strength, knocking it into his path. The man staggered, surprised by the sudden movement, and Claudius sprinted for the alleyway.
He could hear the man cursing behind him, the metallic clank of cybernetic limbs hitting the ground as he gave chase. Claudius' legs burned as he ran, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but he didn't stop. He weaved through the narrow passages, dodging obstacles and praying that he could lose his pursuer in the labyrinth of crates.
The man was fast, but Claudius had the advantage of size and agility in the tight spaces. As he rounded a corner, he spotted an open door leading into a small maintenance tunnel. Without thinking, he dove through it, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it from the inside.
For a few seconds, Claudius stood there, panting heavily, his back pressed against the cold metal of the door. He could hear the man's footsteps outside, followed by a frustrated growl as he realized he had lost his prey.
Claudius waited in silence until the footsteps faded, his heart still racing. He had escaped—for now. But the danger was far from over. He had to find Draven's contact, and quickly.
With a deep breath, Claudius pushed away from the door and made his way down the dimly lit tunnel, the weight of the box pressing heavily against his chest. He was in deeper than he had ever imagined, but there was no turning back now.