Chapter 9: Salvaging and Survival

The Vanguard drifted silently among the glittering debris field of an old, forgotten battlefield. Broken hulks of derelict warships floated like ghosts, remnants of battles long past. The wreckage stretched for miles, a silent graveyard where the scars of humanity's desperate struggle against the android rebellion were forever etched into metal and void.

Scar stood on the bridge, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he scanned the wreckage. The crew had barely escaped Port Karthos, and now they found themselves in another kind of danger—a hunt for spare parts in one of the most dangerous places in known space.

Jefro sat at his console, his face bathed in the blue glow of his monitor. “Energy readings are minimal,” he reported. “No signs of active threats, but we’ve got radiation pockets scattered throughout. We’ll have to be careful.”

Scar nodded, the weight of command heavy on his shoulders. “We don’t have a choice. The Vanguard needs repairs, and this is the closest place to find what we need.”

Nova stood beside him, her eyes narrowed as she studied the wreckage outside. “This place gives me the creeps,” she muttered. “So many lives lost, just… floating out there.”

Cyko, leaning against the bulkhead with his rifle slung over his shoulder, raised an eyebrow. “Creepy or not, we’re here. Let’s just hope we don’t run into any surprises.”

Scar turned to the crew, his expression serious. “We’re splitting up. Nova, you and Jefro take the port side and look for intact shield generators or hull plating. Cyko, you’re with me. We’ll cover the starboard side. Stay in contact and call for backup at the first sign of trouble.”

Arlen, who had been watching the preparations with wide eyes, spoke up. “What should I do?”

Scar’s gaze softened, but he didn’t let the moment linger. “Stay on the ship and keep an eye on the scanners. If you see anything strange, you let us know immediately. Understood?”

Arlen nodded, determination flickering in his young eyes. “I can do that.”

Scar felt a pang of something close to pride. The boy had seen more in the past few days than most adults, and he was handling it better than expected.

The crew suited up in EVA gear, and the airlock cycled open with a hiss. Scar and Cyko stepped onto the fractured hull of a derelict cruiser, their magnetic boots clamping down with each step. The void was silent, the wreckage around them casting long shadows in the starlight.

Cyko’s voice crackled through the comms. “Remind me again why we’re walking around a ghost yard looking for scraps?”

Scar glanced back at him, his visor reflecting the wreckage. “Because without those scraps, the Vanguard’s shields won’t hold up if Delta Command finds us again. Keep your head in the game.”

Cyko sighed, his tone half-joking, half-serious. “Yeah, yeah. You’d think I’d be used to this by now.”

Meanwhile, Nova and Jefro moved carefully across the hull of another derelict ship, their visors scanning for usable components. Jefro’s wrist interface pinged, and he bent down, brushing away centuries-old debris from a damaged control panel.

“Got something?” Nova asked, her voice steady despite the tension.

Jefro nodded, prying open the panel to reveal a half-intact shield generator. “Looks promising. If I can salvage the power couplings, we might be able to reinforce the Vanguard’s shields.”

Nova’s grip on her blaster tightened as she kept watch. “Good. Work fast. I don’t want to stay out here longer than we have to.”

Jefro chuckled, the sound strained. “You’re telling me. This place feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to wake up.”

Scar and Cyko moved deeper into the wreckage, navigating through jagged metal corridors. The derelict ship was a labyrinth of rust and shadows, and Scar’s gut twisted with the sense that something was watching them. He shook off the feeling, focusing on the task at hand.

Cyko knelt beside a shattered airlock, his visor highlighting fragments of hull plating. “Think this is what we’re looking for?” he asked, tapping a piece of metal that had miraculously survived the battle.

Scar scanned the plating, his HUD running diagnostics. “Looks like it’ll work. Let’s—”

A sudden, low hum interrupted him. Scar’s head snapped up, his body going rigid. The hum grew louder, vibrating through the metal beneath their feet.

“Cyko, do you hear that?” Scar asked, his voice a thin thread of tension.

Cyko’s grip on his rifle tightened. “Yeah. And I don’t think it’s a good thing.”

The hum crescendoed into a high-pitched whine, and then the derelict ship shuddered. Lights flickered to life along the corridor, and ancient systems that had been dormant for centuries suddenly sparked and groaned.

Scar activated his comm. “Nova, Jefro, report! Are you seeing this?”

Nova’s voice came back, taut with alarm. “Yeah, the ship we’re on just powered up! Jefro’s trying to shut it down, but I don’t know how long we have.”

Scar cursed, his mind racing. “Get back to the Vanguard, now! Cyko and I are heading your way.”

He turned to Cyko. “Move! We’ve got to get out of here.”

Cyko didn’t argue. They ran back the way they had come, the ship around them groaning as ancient systems strained to life. The corridors pulsed with a sickly red light, and shadows twisted in the flickering illumination.

But something moved in the darkness, just beyond the edge of Scar’s vision. He slowed, his senses screaming. “Wait,” he said, holding up a hand.

Cyko skidded to a stop, his rifle raised. “What is it?”

Scar didn’t answer. He peered into the shadows, his visor straining to detect any sign of movement. For a heartbeat, there was nothing. Then a figure stepped into the light—an android, its once-sleek armor corroded and rusted, but its glowing blue eyes cold and aware.

“Automaton,” Scar whispered, his blood turning to ice.

The android’s voice was a broken rasp, full of distortion. “Intruders… unauthorized… must… be… neutralized.”

Scar didn’t hesitate. “Run!” he ordered, opening fire.

The android lurched forward, its movements jerky but powerful. Cyko fired as well, his shots punching holes into the ancient machine, but it barely slowed. The android raised an arm, and an energy blast erupted from its palm, narrowly missing Cyko.

“Go, go, go!” Cyko yelled, sprinting down the corridor.

Scar fired another shot, then turned and ran, his heart pounding. The derelict ship was waking up, and whatever ghosts still haunted it had come back with a vengeance.

Nova and Jefro reached the Vanguard’s airlock, Jefro panting as he clutched the salvaged power couplings. Nova punched in the access code, the airlock hissing open just as Scar and Cyko’s voices crackled through the comm.

“We’ve got company!” Cyko shouted, his voice frantic. “Hostile android—move it, move it!”

Nova’s blood went cold, but she stayed composed. “Get in here, now!” she called, her blaster at the ready.

Scar and Cyko burst into view, sprinting full tilt toward the Vanguard. The android followed, its movements faster than something that corroded had any right to be. Scar and Cyko dove into the airlock, and Nova slammed her fist against the panel, sealing the hatch.

The android crashed into the door, its metal limbs scraping and pounding against the reinforced plating. The sound reverberated through the ship, a haunting echo of an ancient war that had never truly ended.

Jefro slumped against the wall, his chest heaving. “Let’s… not… do that again,” he gasped.

Cyko laughed breathlessly, though there was no humor in it. “Agreed. Next time, let’s just scavenge a nice, peaceful garden planet. How about that?”

Scar removed his helmet, his face pale but resolute. “We got what we came for,” he said, his voice grim. “Now let’s get out of here before that thing figures out how to break through.”

Nova took the pilot’s seat, her hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. “Punching it,” she said, firing up the engines. The Vanguard roared to life, lifting off the derelict ship and pulling away from the debris field.

As they sped away, the ancient battlefield receded behind them, but the ghostly echoes lingered in their minds. The past was never truly gone, and the specters of old wars had a way of coming back to haunt them.

Scar stood in the center of the cabin, the salvaged parts piled at his feet. “We got what we needed,” he said, his voice strong despite the fear still coursing through him. “But we can’t afford any more close calls.”