Chapter 1: "Salvage Rights"

The Penumbra drifted silently through the debris field, her engines throttled to minimal output. Captain Elara Voss stood on the bridge, one hand pressed against the viewport's cold surface, the other resting on the worn grip of the sidearm holstered at her hip. Beyond the reinforced glass, Kessler's Belt stretched into darkness—a graveyard of twisted metal, frozen gases, and forgotten dreams.

"Anything?" she asked, not turning from the view.

Behind her, Ravi's fingers danced across holographic interfaces, their blue glow casting sharp shadows across his gaunt face. "Still scanning. Debris density makes it difficult to—wait." His voice shifted, the professional detachment giving way to something rarer. "I'm getting a solid mass reading. Definitely ship-sized."

Elara's reflection in the viewport showed no reaction, but her fingers tightened imperceptibly on her weapon. After three empty salvage runs, they needed this. The Penumbra's fuel reserves were critically low, their credit accounts lower still. Another failure meant choosing between life support and debt collectors—neither option promising long-term survival.

"Configuration?" she asked.

"Running comparison algorithms now." Ravi's augmented eyes—aftermarket implants that gave him enhanced visual processing at the cost of perpetually bloodshot sclera—flickered rapidly as data streamed directly into his visual cortex. "Got it. Research vessel, Helix Industries design. Approximately 200 meters length. Matches registry for the Helios Ascendant."

That name triggered something in Elara's memory. She turned from the viewport, her movement economical, nothing wasted. "The Ascendant was declared lost three years ago. Deep space research mission. No distress signals, no debris field, just... gone."

"Well, it's not gone anymore," Ravi replied, his tone suggesting he was already calculating salvage values. "Hull appears largely intact. No obvious signs of catastrophic damage."

Elara crossed to the central command console where navigational displays showed their position relative to corporate boundaries. Kessler's Belt existed in the gray space between jurisdictions—technically unclaimed, practically a free-for-all where salvage rights went to whoever got there first. The perfect hunting ground for independent operators like the Penumbra.

"Life signs?" she asked, though she already knew the answer. Nobody survived three years adrift.

"None detected," Ravi confirmed. "Environmental systems appear non-functional. Internal temperature consistent with vacuum exposure."

Elara activated the ship-wide communication system. "Talia, Kade, Lena, Maddox—bridge, now." She released the button and turned to Ravi. "Keep scanning. I want to know if anything else is out there before we commit."

"You think it's a trap?" Ravi asked, his fingers never pausing in their dance across the interfaces.

Elara didn't answer immediately. The Helios Ascendant represented the kind of salvage opportunity that could solve all their immediate problems—research vessels carried valuable equipment, proprietary data, and materials worth small fortunes on the right markets. But her military training had instilled a permanent wariness. Nothing valuable came without cost.

"I think," she finally said, "that research vessels don't just disappear and reappear without explanation."

The bridge door slid open with a hydraulic hiss that needed maintenance they couldn't afford. Talia entered first, her artificial leg making a distinctive rhythm against the metal deck plates. The engineer's coveralls were stained with the specialized lubricant used for the Penumbra's aging drive systems, and a smudge of grease marked her forehead where she'd pushed back her short-cropped hair.

"Tell me it's something worth salvaging," she said by way of greeting. "The port thruster coupling is held together with prayers and polymer tape."

Kade followed, his security officer's instincts evident in the way he scanned the bridge before fully entering. The former military man carried himself with the same disciplined economy of movement as Elara—a shared language of posture and gesture that spoke of common training and uncommon experiences. The scar along his jawline pulled his mouth into a perpetual half-smile that never reached his eyes.

Lena and Maddox arrived together, an unlikely pair. The medic's small frame and delicate features contrasted sharply with the cargo specialist's bulk. Where Lena moved with precise grace, Maddox lumbered, his massive shoulders barely clearing the doorframe. Both, however, shared the same expectant expression as they joined the gathering around the command console.

"We've located the Helios Ascendant," Elara announced without preamble. "Research vessel, Helix Industries, missing for three years. Hull appears intact."

"Helix?" Maddox's deep voice rumbled with concern. "They don't take kindly to independent operators touching their property."

"Salvage law is clear," Talia countered. "Three years missing, no distress beacon, no corporate claim markers? It's fair game."

Kade's eyes narrowed. "Since when do corporations care about laws when their property is concerned?"

"Since never," Elara acknowledged. "But we're not in a position to be selective. Ravi, display the scan results."

The holographic display at the center of the bridge flickered, then resolved into a three-dimensional rendering of the derelict vessel. The Helios Ascendant had the sleek lines typical of corporate research ships—function subordinated to form, unlike the Penumbra's patchwork aesthetic. Its hull showed minimal damage, primarily from micrometeorite impacts. No obvious signs of weapons fire or catastrophic system failures.

"Environmental systems offline," Ravi reported. "No power signatures except for minimal emergency backups. No life signs detected. Internal atmosphere vented. She's a ghost ship."

"What was its research focus?" Lena asked, her soft voice carrying unexpected authority. Before joining the Penumbra, she had worked in corporate medical research—one of many pasts the crew acknowledged but rarely discussed.

Ravi consulted his data. "Official registry lists it as 'deep space anomaly research.' Vague enough to mean anything."

"Or nothing they wanted publicly documented," Kade added.

Elara studied the hologram, mentally calculating risks against potential rewards. "Standard salvage protocol. Kade, Talia, you're with me on the boarding party. Lena, prepare the medical bay for potential biohazards—we don't know what they were researching. Maddox, ready the cargo bay for whatever we can recover. Ravi, you maintain position here and keep scanning. I want to know immediately if anything else enters the debris field."

The crew dispersed to their assignments with practiced efficiency. As they moved, Elara caught Kade's eye, the silent communication between them needing no words. They both recognized the opportunity and the danger. They both knew what failure would mean for the crew.

"Captain." Kade's voice was low, meant only for her. "If this is Helix tech, we should consider specialized markets. Corporate salvage brings corporate attention."

"I'm aware," she replied, equally quiet. "Let's see what we find first."

---

The Penumbra's airlock cycled with a wheeze of protesting seals. Elara adjusted her helmet's oxygen flow and checked the magnetic boots that would keep her anchored in the derelict's zero-gravity environment. The boarding party's hard-suits were as mismatched as their ship—Elara's military-grade armor contrasting with Talia's modified engineering suit and Kade's security model with aftermarket weapons mounts.

"Comms check," Elara said, her voice slightly distorted by the helmet's speaker.

"Five by five," Kade responded.

"Clear," Talia confirmed.

"Ravi, maintain open channel. If anything changes out there, I want immediate notification."

"Understood, Captain," came the reply through their helmet speakers. "You're clear to proceed. No other vessels detected within scanner range."

The outer airlock door opened to reveal the docking umbilical they'd extended to the Helios Ascendant's emergency access port. The flexible tunnel stretched between the ships like a lifeline, its reinforced fabric designed to maintain integrity even if struck by small debris.

Elara led the way, each magnetic step deliberate in the zero-gravity environment. The umbilical terminated at an external airlock that Talia quickly assessed.

"Manual override still functional," the engineer reported, her augmented hands—designed for precision work in extreme conditions—manipulating the emergency release mechanism. "Cycling now."

The airlock door slid open with surprising smoothness, revealing the darkness beyond. Helmet lights activated automatically, cutting bright swaths through the absolute blackness of the powerless ship.

"Atmosphere completely vented," Talia confirmed, checking her suit's sensors. "Temperature minus one-twenty Celsius. No radiation beyond background levels."

They entered a service corridor designed for maintenance access. Unlike the Penumbra's cramped passages, the Ascendant's corridors were spacious, reflecting corporate budgets and priorities. Their lights revealed walls of polished metal and composite materials, now frosted with ice crystals where trace moisture had frozen in the vacuum.

"No emergency lighting," Kade observed. "Power cells must be completely drained."

"Three years will do that," Talia replied. "Even backup systems have limits."

They moved deeper into the ship, following the schematics Ravi had pulled from public registry databases. The standard layout guided them toward the central corridor that would provide access to the ship's primary systems.

The first signs of trouble appeared at a junction where the service corridor met a main passageway. The door between sections had been sealed but subsequently cut open. The edges of the metal showed the distinctive melting pattern of industrial plasma torches.

"Someone wanted out," Kade observed, running a gloved finger along the cut edge. "Or in."

Beyond the forced door, their lights revealed a changed environment. The orderly corporate aesthetic gave way to chaos—personal effects scattered across the floor, floating in the zero gravity, frozen in place where vacuum had caught them. A child's drawing drifted past Elara's faceplate—a crayon rendering of two smiling figures beside what appeared to be the Ascendant itself.

"Families," she said quietly. "Research vessels often had long-term crew assignments. Families lived aboard."

No one responded. They didn't need to. The implications hung between them as heavily as if gravity still functioned.

They continued forward, documenting everything through their helmet cameras. The main corridor showed signs of barricades—furniture and equipment piled against access points, some still in place, others scattered as if overcome by force. Dark stains marked the walls and floors at irregular intervals.

"Blood," Lena's voice came through their comms. She was monitoring their helmet feeds from the Penumbra's medical bay. "Frozen in vacuum. Substantial quantities."

"No bodies," Kade noted, his weapon drawn despite the ship's apparent abandonment.

"That's not comforting," Talia muttered.

They reached a major intersection where corridors branched toward different ship sections. A holographic directory would normally have guided visitors, but without power, only the physical signage remained visible in their lights.

"Bridge is two decks up," Elara said. "Research sections are aft, crew quarters portside."

"Engineering's below," Talia added. "If there's any hope of restoring power, that's where we need to go."

Elara considered their options. Standard salvage protocol dictated securing the bridge first to access ship logs and systems. But the signs of violence suggested caution.

"Change of plan," she decided. "Talia, you head to engineering. See if you can restore emergency power, at least enough for internal sensors. Kade and I will secure the bridge. Maintain constant communication."

"Solo exploration isn't protocol," Kade reminded her, his tone making it clear he didn't approve.

"Neither is whatever happened here," Elara countered. "Time is critical. The sooner we understand what we're dealing with, the sooner we can salvage what's valuable and get out."

Talia nodded, her expression hidden behind her helmet visor. "I'll keep an open channel. Any sign of trouble, I'm out."

As the engineer headed toward the access ladders that would take her to the engineering deck, Elara and Kade moved toward the bridge access. The stairwells, designed for use even during power failures, were intact but showed more signs of struggle—handrails bent, wall panels damaged, more dark stains frozen in the vacuum.

"Something drove these people to panic," Kade observed as they ascended. "Research accident? Containment breach?"

"Possibly," Elara replied, but her mind was already assembling alternative scenarios. The damage patterns suggested something more deliberate than panic. The barricades, the forced doors—these were defensive measures against an aggressor.

The bridge access required another manual override, this one more complex than the exterior airlock. Kade stood guard while Elara worked the mechanism, her military training including emergency protocols for most vessel types.

"Got it," she announced as the heavy door finally yielded.

The bridge of the Helios Ascendant was a stark contrast to the Penumbra's utilitarian command center. Even in darkness, the quality of the equipment was evident—holographic interfaces designed for intuitive operation, acceleration couches made from materials that adapted to individual physiology, viewports of transparent aluminum that offered unobstructed views of space.

Now those viewports showed only the debris field of Kessler's Belt, and the equipment lay dormant. Unlike the corridors, the bridge showed less sign of violence but more evidence of deliberate action. Emergency protocol manuals lay open at workstations. A hardcopy star chart had been marked with coordinates in multiple systems. Most telling was the captain's log—a physical book required by maritime tradition even on the most advanced vessels—open to a final entry.

Elara carefully lifted the logbook, its pages stiff with cold. Her helmet light illuminated the last entry, dated three years prior:

"Day 189. The artifacts continue to emit signals on frequencies our equipment can barely detect. Dr. Thorne reports unusual patterns in the data—not random, but not decipherable by any known algorithms. More concerning are the effects on crew members who've had direct exposure. Sleep disturbances first, then auditory hallucinations. Three research team members now in medical isolation. Corporate has ordered continued study despite my recommendation to jettison the artifacts. I've initiated quarantine protocols for affected sections. If conditions worsen, I will exercise emergency authority to—"

The entry ended mid-sentence.

"Captain," Kade called from the navigation station. "You need to see this."

Elara joined him, where a physical star chart had been secured to the console. Unlike the digital systems that normally guided vessels, this was paper—a backup method rarely used except in emergencies. Someone had marked a course through multiple systems, terminating at coordinates in deep space, far from any known settlements or stations.

"That's beyond the frontier," Elara observed. "Nothing out there but uncharted systems."

"Someone thought it was important enough to plot a manual course," Kade replied. "After whatever happened here started happening."

Their conversation was interrupted by Talia's voice over the comm. "Captain, I've reached engineering. You're not going to believe this."

"Report," Elara ordered.

"The power systems aren't dead—they're deliberately shut down. Someone initiated a complete system purge. Reactor, backup cells, even the emergency reserves. They wanted this ship dark."

"Can you restore power?" Elara asked.

"Working on it. The reactor's cold but intact. I can reroute from our portable generators to get basic systems online—enough for internal sensors and maybe emergency lighting."

"Do it," Elara ordered. "But be ready to cut power immediately if anything unusual happens."

While Talia worked, Elara and Kade continued their exploration of the bridge. Each workstation told part of the story—security logs showing internal weapons had been deployed, medical reports documenting increasing cases of "anomalous neurological activity," communications records of increasingly desperate messages to corporate headquarters.

"They knew something was wrong," Kade said, reviewing a security officer's notes. "Crew members reporting voices, visions. Increasing paranoia. Then violence."

"Corporate ordered them to continue research despite the risks," Elara added, her voice tight with controlled anger. Her own history with military orders that prioritized objectives over personnel safety colored her interpretation.

The bridge lights suddenly flickered, then stabilized at minimal output. Holographic displays sputtered to life, most showing error messages or system failures.

"Partial power restored," Talia reported over the comm. "You've got basic functions on the bridge now. Internal sensors coming online."

Elara moved to the captain's console where the main systems interface was now operational. Her gloved fingers navigated through the emergency protocols to access the ship's internal sensors.

"Life support's gone," she reported. "No surprise there. Internal sensors show—" She stopped, studying the display with increased intensity. "That can't be right."

"What is it?" Kade moved to look over her shoulder.

"Sensors are detecting an energy signature in the research section. After three years without power, there shouldn't be anything active on this ship."

"Could be a sensor malfunction," Kade suggested. "Systems coming back online after complete shutdown might show false readings."

"Maybe," Elara conceded, but her instincts suggested otherwise. "Talia, are you getting any unusual readings from engineering?"

"Define 'unusual,'" the engineer replied. "Because the reactor shouldn't be showing residual heat after three years dormant, but I'm definitely reading a thermal signature. It's like it was shut down recently, not years ago."

Elara's decision was immediate. "Kade, with me. We're checking the research section. Talia, maintain position in engineering but be prepared to cut power and retreat to the Penumbra if necessary."

"What are we looking for?" Kade asked as they exited the bridge.

"Answers," Elara replied simply. "And anything worth salvaging."

---

The research section of the Helios Ascendant was secured behind multiple bulkheads, each requiring separate authorization. Under normal circumstances, such security would have presented a significant obstacle. With Talia's partial power restoration, however, Ravi was able to remotely interface with the ship's systems.

"The security protocols are still active," his voice came through their comms as they waited at the final bulkhead. "But they're degraded. I'm exploiting a vulnerability in the authentication sequence... and... there. You should have access now."

The massive door slid open with a groan of protesting mechanisms. Beyond lay the heart of the Ascendant's purpose—a research facility more advanced than anything the Penumbra's crew had encountered. Unlike the rest of the ship, this section showed no signs of violence or hasty abandonment. Instead, it presented an eerie orderliness, as if the researchers had simply stepped away momentarily.

"This doesn't match the rest of the ship," Kade observed, weapon raised despite the apparent emptiness.

Elara moved cautiously into the main laboratory. Workstations surrounded a central area where five cylindrical containment units stood in a precise arrangement. Each unit was approximately one meter tall, constructed of materials she didn't recognize, with control interfaces that remained active despite the ship's power situation.

"These are drawing power from somewhere," she noted, examining the nearest unit. Its surface displayed scrolling data in formats that seemed almost familiar yet fundamentally alien. "And they're not standard Helix Industries design."

"Captain," Ravi's voice carried unusual tension. "I'm detecting data transmission from your location. Something in that lab is actively communicating."

"With whom?" Elara demanded.

"Unknown. The signal doesn't match any standard protocol. It's... it's like nothing I've ever seen."

Kade had moved to a research terminal that had activated with the partial power restoration. "I've got research logs here. Dr. Aris Thorne, lead researcher. The Ascendant was investigating an anomalous signal from an uncharted system. They found ruins—structures of non-human origin."

Elara joined him, scanning the logs. "The artifacts were recovered from these ruins? What are they?"

"Data storage devices, according to these notes. But far beyond current technology. The researchers were attempting to access the stored information." Kade scrolled through more entries. "They started experiencing effects after initial access attempts. Dreams, hallucinations, all centered around similar imagery—vast architectural structures, technologies operating on principles they couldn't understand."

"And then?" Elara prompted.

"Then the logs become increasingly fragmented. References to 'patterns in the data' and 'consciousness imprints.' The final entries mention crew members hearing voices that originated from the artifacts."

Elara turned back to the containment units. Despite years of military training and the hardened perspective that came from surviving the Cygnus Prime massacre, she felt a chill that had nothing to do with the ship's temperature.

"We need to decide what to salvage," she said, her voice deliberately practical. "These units are clearly valuable, but if they caused whatever happened to this ship's crew..."

"We can't leave them," Kade replied, surprising her. "Whatever they are, they're too dangerous to abandon. Someone else will find them eventually."

"Agreed," came Lena's voice over the comm. She had been silently monitoring their exploration. "If these artifacts affected the crew's neurological functions, they need to be secured and studied under proper containment. Or destroyed."

Elara made her decision. "Talia, how quickly can you disconnect these containment units for transport?"

"Depends on their integration with ship systems," the engineer replied. "If they have independent power sources, it should be straightforward. Give me twenty minutes to reach your position and assess."

"Make it fifteen," Elara ordered. "I want off this ship as soon as possible."

As if in response to her words, the ship's emergency systems suddenly activated—klaxons blaring in the vacuum, warning lights flashing along corridors.

"What the hell?" Kade's weapon swung toward the laboratory entrance.

"Ravi, report!" Elara demanded.

"Emergency beacon activated!" the technician's voice was tight with alarm. "It's broadcasting on all Helix Industries frequencies. I can't shut it down remotely."

"Talia?"

"Not me, Captain. The signal initiated from the research section. One of those containment units must have triggered it when our systems interfaced with theirs."

Elara's mind raced through scenarios and responses. An active emergency beacon would draw attention—corporate security vessels, other salvage operators, perhaps even military patrols if they were close enough.

"Change of plans," she decided. "Kade, help me disconnect these units manually. Talia, get back to the Penumbra and prepare for immediate departure. Ravi, calculate the fastest route out of the debris field."

"Captain," Lena's voice held unusual urgency. "The biological samples I collected from the blood residue—they contain unknown nanotechnology. Microscopic machines unlike any medical nanites I've seen. They appear dormant now, but—"

"Understood," Elara cut her off. "Full containment protocols when these artifacts come aboard. No direct contact without protective measures."

Working quickly, Elara and Kade began disconnecting the containment units from their research mounts. Despite their alien design, the physical connections were straightforward—power couplings and data interfaces that yielded to standard tools.

"How long before company arrives?" Elara asked as they worked.

"Depends who receives the beacon," Ravi replied. "Nearest Helix Industries security outpost is three hours at maximum burn. But there could be corporate vessels closer that don't appear in public registries."

They had secured three of the five units when Ravi's voice returned, now sharp with alarm. "Multiple vessels just appeared on long-range sensors. They were running silent until now. Configuration suggests Helix Industries security cruisers. ETA twenty minutes."

"Time to go," Elara decided. "These three will have to do."

As they secured the containment units for transport through the umbilical, Kade paused. "Captain, look at this."

One of the units they'd disconnected had changed its display pattern. Where before it had shown scrolling data in alien formats, it now displayed what appeared to be standard human language—a simple message that chilled Elara more than anything else they'd found on the derelict ship:

THANK YOU FOR THE RESCUE. THE PATTERNS RECOGNIZE YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS, ELARA VOSS.

"How does it know your name?" Kade asked, his weapon instinctively raised toward the unit.

Elara had no answer. "Secure it and move. We can figure it out once we're clear of here."

---

The Penumbra broke away from the Helios Ascendant with practiced precision, the docking umbilical retracting as thrusters pushed the salvage vessel clear. In the cargo bay, Maddox and Lena worked to secure the three containment units within a hastily established quarantine field.

On the bridge, Elara studied the tactical display where multiple contacts approached from the system's edge. "Identification?"

"Three Helix Industries security vessels," Ravi confirmed. "Heavy armament for corporate security. And..." he paused, rechecking his readings. "Two more vessels approaching from different vectors. One matches registry for a Gate Believer missionary ship."

"Religious zealots?" Talia's disbelief was evident. "What would they want with a derelict research vessel?"

"The third vessel is running without identification," Ravi continued. "Military-grade stealth systems, but our proximity allows partial detection. Definitely not corporate design."

"Three different groups, all converging on an abandoned ship that's been missing for three years," Kade observed from the security station. "Quite a coincidence."

"No such thing," Elara replied. She studied the tactical options. The Penumbra wasn't designed for combat—its systems optimized for detection and salvage rather than engagement. Their best option was escape, but the approaching vessels had positioned themselves to cut off obvious exit vectors.

"Incoming transmission," Ravi announced. "Helix Industries security lead vessel."

"Put it through," Elara ordered, straightening her posture instinctively.

The main viewscreen activated to show a man whose appearance screamed "corporate executive" despite his security officer uniform. His features were too perfect—the result of cosmetic modifications available only to those with significant resources. His smile contained exactly the right amount of charm and threat.

"Salvage vessel Penumbra," he began, his voice cultured and controlled. "This is Darius Kell, Helix Industries Security Division. You have interfered with a corporate recovery operation and boarded a vessel belonging to Helix Industries without authorization."

"The Helios Ascendant was declared lost three years ago," Elara replied evenly. "Under Interstellar Salvage Code, Section 17, any vessel abandoned for more than two standard years without active claim markers becomes eligible for recovery by independent operators."

Kell's smile didn't waver. "A technical interpretation that might hold in frontier courts. However, we are prepared to be reasonable. Return any materials recovered from the Ascendant and we will compensate you for your... inconvenience."

Before Elara could respond, a second transmission cut in—this one showing a gaunt figure in elaborate religious vestments. The symbol of the Gate Believers—a stylized representation of an ancient jump gate—was prominently displayed on his robes.

"The artifacts are sacred relics," the religious figure intoned, his eyes burning with zealous intensity. "They belong to those who understand their true purpose. The Believers will reward your cooperation far beyond material compensation. The Architects will remember those who aided their return."

A third transmission joined the increasingly crowded communication, this one audio only—a modulated voice that could belong to any gender or species. "The salvage vessel has priority claim under frontier law. My employer offers triple the corporate rate for exclusive delivery of the recovered artifacts. Coordinates will follow on secure channel."

Elara maintained her composed expression despite the unprecedented situation. Three powerful factions, all demanding the same salvage—artifacts that somehow knew her name and had potentially driven an entire crew to madness or worse.

"Your competing claims put us in a difficult position," she said carefully. "As you can appreciate, we need to consider our options."

"There are no options," Kell replied, his perfect smile never reaching his eyes. "Corporate jurisdiction supersedes all other considerations in this sector. We will dock with your vessel for inspection and transfer of materials. Prepare your airlock."

"The Believers will not allow the sacred relics to be defiled by corporate hands," the religious figure countered. "Our vessel is prepared to defend the will of the Architects."

The modulated voice simply stated: "Coordinates transmitted. You have ten minutes to decide before all offers are withdrawn."

The communications terminated simultaneously, leaving the bridge in momentary silence.

"Well," Talia said dryly, "at least we know the artifacts are valuable."

"Three heavily armed vessels, all willing to fight over what we've salvaged," Kade observed. "We're outgunned no matter which way we turn."

Elara's mind worked through scenarios with military precision. Direct confrontation was suicide. Attempting to outrun all three factions equally unlikely. That left negotiation or deception.

"Ravi, open a private channel to the Helix Industries vessel."

"Captain?" Kade's question contained volumes.

"We're playing for time," she explained quietly. "Corporate bureaucracy moves slowly. If we appear to cooperate with Helix, the other factions might withdraw temporarily rather than engage corporate security directly."

When Kell's face appeared on the private channel, Elara adopted a more conciliatory tone. "Mr. Kell, my crew has recovered research materials from the Ascendant. We're prepared to discuss transfer, but we require certain guarantees—specifically, safe passage from this sector and fair compensation based on the apparent value of these artifacts."

Kell studied her for a moment before responding. "Reasonable requests, Captain Voss. I propose you escort the salvage to our nearest outpost where proper evaluation can be conducted. Your vessel will remain under your command, with one of my security officers aboard to ensure... mutual trust."

"Acceptable," Elara agreed, knowing she had no intention of reaching any corporate outpost. "Transmit coordinates and we'll establish formation."

After the communication ended, she turned to her crew. "Ravi, plot a course that appears to follow their vector but positions us for a burn toward the coordinates the third party transmitted. Talia, I need the engines ready for maximum output when I give the word. Kade, prepare defensive countermeasures—anything to confuse their targeting systems if they pursue."

"And the artifacts?" Lena asked from the doorway, having come up from the cargo bay.

"Secure in quarantine?"

"As much as possible with our limited equipment," the medic confirmed. "But one of them is... active. The display patterns are changing constantly. And it's emitting a signal on frequencies our systems can barely detect."

"Can you block the signal?"

"Not with our current technology," Lena admitted. "Whatever these artifacts are, they operate on principles beyond our understanding."

Elara made her decision. "We proceed as planned. Once we're clear of immediate pursuit, we'll evaluate our options for the artifacts. If they prove too dangerous, we can still arrange a transfer to one of the interested parties—from a position of greater security."

As the crew moved to their stations, Elara's personal terminal chimed with an incoming message. The source was untraceable, the format text-only:

CAPTAIN VOSS, THE CORES ARE KEYS, NOT WEAPONS. VEX IS ALREADY AWARE OF WHAT YOU'VE FOUND. TRUST NO ONE WHO SEEKS THEM. COORDINATES FOLLOW.

The message included navigation data to a location in neutral territory—an unmarked station not found in any public registry.

Before she could investigate further, Ravi called out, "Helix security vessel is moving into escort position. Their weapons systems are powered but not targeted. The religious vessel is maintaining distance but adjusting course to shadow us. The unidentified vessel has gone dark—either departed or engaged advanced stealth systems."

"Maintain course," Elara ordered. "Standard acceleration. Let them think we're cooperating."

She moved to the captain's chair, strapping in as the Penumbra aligned with its escort. On her personal display, she reviewed the mysterious coordinates, comparing them against known safe harbors and potential allies.

The decision weighed heavily. Every instinct from her military training warned against the artifacts they'd recovered. The Ascendant's fate stood as stark evidence of their danger. Yet abandoning such valuable salvage meant returning to the financial desperation that had driven them to Kessler's Belt in the first place.

More troubling was the personal nature of the message on the containment unit. THE PATTERNS RECOGNIZE YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS, ELARA VOSS. How could alien technology from ruins beyond the frontier know her name? What connection existed between these artifacts and her own past?

As the Penumbra moved through the debris field with its corporate escort, Elara made her choice. Her finger activated the secure communication to engineering.

"Talia, prepare for emergency burn on my mark. We're changing course."

"Destination?" the engineer asked.

Elara entered the mysterious coordinates into the navigation system. "Somewhere we might get answers instead of more questions."

In the cargo bay, unobserved by the crew, one of the containment units pulsed with soft light, its surface patterns rearranging themselves like a language slowly awakening after centuries of silence.