The star outside the viewport burned bright, its orange and gold tendrils swirling like a cosmic firestorm. Distant, yet close enough to be a constant reminder of power, danger, and life. It wasn't the largest star in this part of the galaxy, but it was temperamental, with violent solar flares that could scramble a ship's systems in seconds. For most, it would be a place to avoid. For people like Kal Draven, it was home.
Kal stood at the window of his ship, The Iron Sparrow, hands clasped behind his back. His breath fogged the glass as he stared into the abyss. Beyond the swirling surface of the star was the vast expanse of the western rim of the galaxy—a lawless frontier that stretched for light-years. There was freedom in that lawlessness, but there was also danger. Out here, humanity had scattered, stretching itself thin across the stars, some rebuilding their lives after leaving Earth, while others exploited the chaos for their own gain.
Kal was one of the few who had stayed behind when the exodus began, though not by choice. Those who left Earth had discovered wonders—new technologies, metals stronger than anything humanity had once known, materials that could reshape what it meant to be human. They crafted cyborgs, half-human, half-machine, creatures of immense power with metallic limbs, enhanced cognition, and invulnerable bodies.
But not Kal.
He was no cyborg. Just a man. Ordinary, for the most part. His one edge in this universe of enhanced beings was the exoskeleton grafted beneath his skin—metal fused with bone. It wasn't enough to make him a threat to a cyborg, but it kept him alive. And in this business, survival was everything.
"Kal?" A voice interrupted his thoughts, soft but steady.
He turned to see Sara—his guardian and motherly figure—standing in the doorway. She had the look of someone who had been through more than her share of hardship. Her silver hair was cropped short, and her pale blue eyes scanned him with a mixture of concern and determination. A few battle scars marked her face, reminders of a time when she, too, had fought on the frontlines of Earth's last war before everything fell apart.
Sara wasn't a cyborg either, though she had her enhancements. Artificially improved reflexes, a few implants to extend her life, but she kept her body as human as she could. That was important to her. "Being human isn't weakness," she always said. "It's a choice."
"You've been staring at that star for hours," she said, crossing the small room. "You've got a job coming up. You should rest."
"I'm fine." Kal turned back to the view, but Sara stepped closer, her voice softening.
"You're not a machine, Kal. You need rest."
Kal chuckled, shaking his head. "Neither are you. You don't seem to need much of it."
"Old habits." Sara smiled, a faint glimmer of warmth in her eyes. "But I'm not the one running around chasing criminals."
Kal sighed, moving away from the window. He knew she was right. The upcoming job was a tough one—two cyborg fugitives, wanted for murder and smuggling stolen tech out of the inner colonies. Even with his exoskeleton, Kal wasn't a match for them. They could rip him apart with their bare hands if they got close enough. But this was his life now. Bounty hunting in a galaxy that had evolved beyond him, a dangerous existence for someone who wasn't fully machine.
His ship was his sanctuary. Nestled near the edges of a dying star, it was old, a relic from Earth's final spacefaring days. It had been upgraded with tech he barely understood, systems kept in check by a handful of maintenance robots that scuttled through the ship's narrow corridors. They were efficient, silent workers. They didn't question, didn't need rest. Kal envied that simplicity sometimes.
"What's the plan?" Sara asked, watching him intently. She always did that before a mission, making sure he wasn't in over his head.
Kal walked over to the control panel and tapped it, bringing up the holographic image of the two cyborg fugitives. Their faces, half-human, half-metal, stared back at him. He could see the dense alloy woven into their skin, glinting under their eyes, the mechanical limbs that replaced their human ones. Cyborgs like them were a product of the great leap in technology made after Earth's destruction. Those who left the dying planet had found incredible things out in the stars—vast knowledge, advanced alloys, and ways to combine man and machine in ways that no one could have imagined before.
"Catch them off-guard," Kal said, narrowing his eyes at the display. "They're hiding in a mining colony on Alvor-9. Place is falling apart—no law, no oversight. They'll think they're safe there. That'll be their mistake."
Sara nodded, but there was a glint of worry in her eyes. "And what about you?"
"I'll manage. I always do."
She didn't say anything for a moment, then turned and headed for the door. "Just… don't get too close. You know what they're capable of."
As she left, Kal felt the familiar weight settle in his chest. Out here, near the edge of a burning star, he was a small speck in the galaxy, just another human trying to survive in a universe filled with things far stronger than him.
But survival wasn't enough. He had to hunt, to fight, to prove that flesh and blood could still matter in a world of steel and circuits.