"Time to give them something to chase," I muttered, pulling the disruptor pistol from its rack. My fingers moved swiftly, disassembling the weapon with practiced precision until I reached its core – a marvel of engineering that had cost me three months' worth of BiCoins to develop.
"You're going to use the quantum core as bait," my AI observed. "Clever. Though I feel compelled to point out that destroying your best weapon might not be the wisest survival strategy."
"Who said anything about destroying it?" I grinned, extracting the pulsing blue cylinder. "We're just going to let it put on a little show."
The core's unique energy signature was nearly identical to my reactor's output – a fact that had worried me during testing but now seemed providential. With some modifications, it would make perfect bait for our unwanted visitors.
Working quickly, I rigged the core with a signal amplifier and programmed it to emit irregular energy pulses. Anyone scanning for unusual power signatures would find exactly what they were looking for – in exactly the wrong place.
"Syndicate drones have changed course," my AI reported. "They're responding to the new signal. Should I start the countdown on our actual reactor's shutdown sequence?"
"Not yet. Wait until they're fully committed." I moved to my monitoring station, watching as multiple blips converged on the decoy's position. The Syndicate team was taking the bait, their drones forming a search pattern around the false signal.
"Imperial Corps vessel has entered low orbit," my AI warned. "Estimated nineteen minutes until they're in position to deploy ground forces."
Perfect. The timing couldn't have been better if I'd planned it. I triggered the core's main sequence, causing it to release a massive energy spike. On my screens, I watched the Syndicate operatives react immediately, their drones clustering around the source.
"Now," I ordered. "Full reactor shutdown. Begin loading essential equipment according to evacuation protocol seven."
As my AI coordinated the shutdown, I gathered only what was irreplaceable – my tools, key components, and the mysterious package from the Syndicate job. Everything else could be replaced.
The sound of engines overhead made me freeze. Through my periscope system, I watched as sleek black vehicles descended from the clouds – Imperial Corps transports, their hulls gleaming with that distinctive polish that screamed 'we have an unlimited budget and we're not afraid to use it.'
The Syndicate team scattered like startled vermin. Nobody wanted a close encounter with the Corps, not even the Syndicate's elite. I watched as they retreated, their drones providing cover while my decoy continued its light show.
"All essential systems secured," my AI reported. "Though I feel compelled to mention that your timing, as usual, is terrifyingly precise."
I shouldered my pack, taking one last look at the hideout I'd called home for the past eight months. "Precise is all we've got. Initiate the hover-bike's stealth protocols."
As I slipped out through my emergency exit – a narrow tunnel that emerged half a kilometer from my main hideout – the sight of the Corps' vehicles triggered something in my memory. A flash of polished boots on a pristine floor. The weight of restraints. And a face I'd tried very hard to forget.
Three years ago. Imperial Detention Center Seven, Safron Galaxy Central Command...
I stood before Marshal Cilius, the highest-ranking officer in the Safron galaxy's Imperial Corps. He wasn't what you'd expect from someone with his authority – no cybernetic enhancements, no obvious augmentations. Just an elderly man with sharp grey eyes and silver hair, wearing an immaculate white uniform adorned with medals that spoke of centuries of service. Yet his presence filled the room more completely than any augmented officer I'd ever encountered.
"The prisoner refuses to cooperate," a subordinate was saying. "Standard interrogation protocols have been ineffective."
Cilius approached me slowly, his keen eyes studying me with an intensity that made cybernetic scanners seem crude in comparison. I kept my expression neutral, focusing on my breathing, on the subtle pressure points of my restraints – anything but the fear churning in my gut.
"Perhaps," Cilius said, his voice carrying that distinctive accent of the Core Worlds, "we should discuss this privately."
The subordinates filed out, leaving me alone with one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. I expected threats, perhaps a demonstration of the Corps' more creative questioning techniques.
Instead, Cilius simply... stared. His eyes had fixed on something at my throat, and for the first time, his perfect composure cracked.
The locket. In all the chaos of my capture, I'd forgotten to hide it.
The Marshal's face went pale. His steady hands began to tremble. "That's... that's impossible," he whispered. "Where did you get that?"
Before I could respond, he stumbled backward, actually stumbled, like a man who'd seen a ghost. "Get him out of here," he barked to the guards outside. "Transfer him to High Security Chamber"
And in short, I managed to escape after that as I had planned.
Coming to present.
After clearing the ridge, I directed my hover-bike toward one of my emergency caches – a small bunker hidden beneath an unremarkable rock formation. Time to regroup and plan.
"Ryvek should be able to help," I mused, setting up my portable comm unit. "He owes me for that mess on Helion Prime anyway."
"Ah yes, the incident with the exploding cargo ship," my AI chimed in. "Though technically, you did promise never to mention that again."
I smiled despite myself. "Technically, I promised not to mention it to anyone else. You're just me talking to myself."
"Your logic circuits need calibration."
The comm unit crackled to life. Ryvek's face appeared, his natural eye narrowing when he saw me. "Twice in one day? I'm starting to feel special."
"Don't let it go to your head. I need information about the Imperial expedition to the Vermilion Nebula."
His expression turned serious. "That's not the kind of information that comes cheap, even for old friends."
"How about in exchange for not mentioning a certain incident involving a cargo ship?"
"You promised never to—" He caught himself, scowling. "Fine. But this is dangerous territory, Zenin. The expedition is led by General Voss herself. Triple-layer security protocols, hand-picked crew. Whatever they're looking for out there, they're not taking chances."
I processed this information. General Voss was known for her methodical approach and absolute loyalty to the Corps. Getting anywhere near her expedition would be nearly impossible.
Nearly.
"Any weak points in their security?" I asked.
"They're recruiting support staff through authorized contractors. Maintenance crews, supply runners, that sort of thing. But you'd need proper credentials, and the screening process is—"
A sharp ping from my AI interrupted us. "Unknown signal detected. Origin: Vermilion Nebula. Pattern matches encryption markers from the retrieved package."
I pulled out the crystalline data core we'd acquired earlier. It was pulsing with a faint light, responding to something.
"Ryvek," I said slowly, "how much do you know about what the Corps is looking for in the Nebula?"
"Only rumors. Something about ancient tech, pre-ASE artifacts maybe. Why?"
I studied the pulsing core. "Because I think I might be holding a piece of it."
"Zenin," Ryvek's voice turned deadly serious, "if you've got what I think you've got, you need to disappear. Now. The Corps doesn't just want those artifacts – they're desperate for them. And desperate people tend to shoot first and never bother with questions."
The core's pulsing increased, synchronizing with something far out in space. Something that was calling to it.
"Thanks for the help," I said, preparing to end the transmission.
"Don't do anything stupid," Ryvek warned.
"Me? Never. I only do things that are precisely calculated to appear stupid while actually being brilliant."
After ending the call, I sat back, my mind racing. So the rumors I'd heard were true that one of the ten Generals of Safron Galaxy – the direct subordinates of Marshal Cilius – would personally lead this expedition. It was rare for someone of that rank to oversee a mission themselves. More importantly, it was an opportunity.
Three years had passed since that strange encounter with Marshal Cilius, since I'd seen the recognition and fear in his eyes when he spotted my locket. He knew something about the locket, If I can find out more about this locket maybe I might be able to get closer to my erased past or I might be able to know who is that girl whose holographic image is carried in my locket. Through this General, I might finally have a chance to get to Marshal Cilius. And through this expedition I might also find out or maybe, not being too greedy but just maybe steal some for myself.
The artifacts that Vermilion Nebula held, they were important enough to draw the highest ranks of the Imperial Corps. Means they can be sold for a lot of Bi-Coins.
"The General's expedition leaves in three days," my AI informed me.
I began unpacking my tools. The hover-bike would need modifications for nebula conditions, and my stealth systems would need upgrading to handle military-grade scanners.
"You're really doing this," my AI observed. "Charging straight toward the people we usually run from."
"The answers are out there," I said quietly. " and this is the only chance I may get "
"And the fact that it's practically suicide doesn't bother you?"
I grinned, already starting work on the hover-bike's engines. "Consider it a challenge. Besides, how hard can it be to infiltrate a heavily-armed military expedition into unknown space while evading the most advanced security system in the universe?"
"Your definition of 'challenge' needs serious recalibration."
As my AI grumbled, I focused on my work.
Time to chase some ghosts.