Chapter 20 - Shadows Of The Past
The return flight from the derelict trade station was quieter than the journey out. Perhaps because we were all thinking the same thing: the station was more ruin than investment. As Misora guided her ship through Trantor’s orbit, I sat behind her, staring out through the forward viewport into the dark expanse of space. The planet below seemed calm, almost sluggish, while above us the stars shimmered in stillness.
Vanu had taken a seat beside me, her arms crossed as she gazed thoughtfully out the side window. Tahl sat further back, silent as always, but his eyes constantly moved across the cockpit and its instruments. He was the type who remained alert even in moments of calm. Thovareos, meanwhile, sat upright with his tablet in hand. The glow of the displays reflected in his red eyes as his long fingers moved steadily across the surface. I knew he was already running calculations again—costs, risks, possibilities.
Our destination was the shipyard of Misora’s father, Kento.
As we approached the facility, I recognized it from a distance. Several docking arms extended from the central structure into space. Smaller maintenance craft moved around it like insects, while larger ships rested within open docking rings. Misora guided us smoothly through the shipyard’s traffic. Her vessel slipped precisely between two heavy transports before touching down on one of the outer platforms.
When the hatch opened, the familiar scent of a shipyard greeted us: metal, coolant, and the dry trace of recycled air. We stepped out and crossed the platform toward the main dock. Even from afar, I could see something waiting there. A ship. The first prototype.
All this time, I had imagined something entirely different—some massive, clumsy block. Functional, but ugly. A typical freighter. Something that worked, but impressed no one.
But when we entered the dock, I stopped involuntarily.
This was no block.
The ship was… elegant. Its shape resembled an elongated arrowhead—slender, tapering forward, with smooth lines running across the entire hull. Even at rest, it looked as though it were already cutting through space. I stepped closer, tilting my head back slightly to take in its full scale.
“This is the prototype?”
Misora gave a short nod. “Yes.” Her voice was calm, but there was clear pride beneath it. “Testing is still pending.”
I slowly circled the ship as the others approached. Only then did I notice that the actual cargo system was not directly integrated into the flight module. The cargo hold existed as a separate container. Misora stepped beside me and gestured toward it.
“The container is fully sealed.”
I examined the structure more closely. Its surface was smooth but reinforced, divided into several strengthened segments.
“Suitable for both atmosphere and space,” she continued, running her hand along one of the struts. “Independent energy system.”
I looked at her questioningly.
“For the stasis units.”
I nodded slowly. That was where the food products would be stored. But the container was more than just a storage unit. It was surrounded by a complex lattice framework. Thick support beams formed something like a cage around the cargo itself. I stepped closer, studying the construction.
“That’s not just a protective frame.”
Misora shook her head slightly. “No.” She pointed to several energy distributors along the beams. “Primarily a shield grid.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Primarily?”
She glanced at me briefly. “It can also emit an EMP.”
Beside me, I heard a quiet hiss from Thovareos.
Misora continued. “If necessary, the energy can be directed inward.”
I looked at her. “Inward?”
She nodded. “Then the system destroys the cargo module.”
For a moment, no one spoke. I let my gaze drift over the lattice again. This wasn’t just a transport container—it was a security mechanism. If someone attempted to steal the cargo, it could simply be erased.
“The energy core is only a support system,” Misora added, indicating a smaller module at the rear of the container. “For emergencies or while docked at a spaceport. The main energy system is located in the flight module.”
I turned my attention back to the ship itself—the “space truck,” as I had begun to call it in my mind. From the side, it looked even more impressive. The entire structure was clearly designed to combine speed and stability. The engines were positioned deep in the rear, while the front tapered into a narrow profile.
“The primary generator is housed there,” Misora said, pointing to the central section of the hull. “It powers both the ship and the cargo system.”
I nodded slowly.
“Atmospheric flight capable,” she added.
I studied the smooth surface of the hull again. Not just space.
“Speed varies with mass, of course.”
I allowed myself a faint smile. That hardly needed explaining. I still remembered basic physics—greater mass required more energy to accelerate or decelerate. Still, one thing became immediately clear: without its cargo system, this ship was likely faster than any freighter I had seen before.
I eventually came to a stop and took in the entire vessel once more. A quiet feeling spread through my chest. Respect. Genuine respect.
I looked over at Misora. Then toward the shipyard hall, where her father was likely working somewhere.
What they had built here was more than just a transport vessel. It was an entirely new concept.
And if I was honest, that realization didn’t just fill me with excitement. A part of me was also uneasy about how much power this technology represented.
My wristband beeped. The sound was short and sharp—loud enough to pull me instantly from my thoughts about the freighter. Reflexively, I raised my arm and glanced at the small display. An incoming message. The sender was Gal.
Before I could say anything, a violent jolt shook the entire shipyard hall. The ground vibrated beneath my feet. Metal beams groaned. Somewhere in the distance, something crashed loudly to the floor. I had to step aside to keep my balance.
Panic spread immediately. A few visitors who had been in the hall cried out in shock. One stumbled backward over a toolbox. Another ran toward the exit in a frenzy. The shipyard staff—many of them clearly inexperienced—looked just as startled for a moment. Their eyes darted through the hall.
Then I heard Kento’s voice. Deep, firm, immediate. He had reacted without hesitation. Short, precise commands. Calm, but unmistakable. The workers pulled themselves together, grabbing tablets, activators, control units. They checked everything—meteor impact, structural failure, collision.
Within seconds, it became clear none of those were the cause.
Then one of the outer gates burst open with a heavy metallic crash.
And they entered.
Pirates. More than two dozen. They poured into the hall like a filthy wave of violence and chaos. My gaze moved across them automatically. Most were Argon. Among them, several Teladi. Further back stood a Split with a massive upper body, arms crossed, observing everything with a cold stare. A Paranid was there as well, his three eyes scanning the surroundings as if analyzing the situation.
But regardless of species—they all looked the same. Wild. Neglected. Their hair was disheveled, some dyed in garish colors. Others had shaved heads with carved patterns. Their bodies were covered in tattoos, old scars, crude cybernetic implants. Their weapons didn’t look high-quality—many pistols were clearly old or modified.
They didn’t need quality. They had numbers. And brutality.
Before anyone could react, a tall, gaunt Argon stepped forward. His shoulders were bony, his face narrow, a long scar running across his cheek. His eyes swept the hall.
“Where is Kento?” he shouted.
For a moment, no one answered. Then movement came from behind a stack of spare parts. Kento stepped forward. The old man looked calm—too calm for the situation. His posture straight, his gaze steady.
The pirate smirked.
“Old man,” he said mockingly. “You’ve done well for yourself since our last visit.” He spread his arms slightly. “We’re here to collect protection money.”
Protection money. The word hit me completely off guard. I frowned.
Before I could respond, I felt Misora beside me. She leaned slightly closer and whispered, her voice tense, “This gang was here years ago.”
I glanced at her. “And?”
She swallowed. “They didn’t find anything valuable back then.”
My eyes returned to the pirates. Slowly, understanding set in. These groups moved from system to system, waiting. Waiting for stations to be rebuilt, for businesses to recover, for money to start flowing. Then they returned.
Kento stepped forward.
His voice remained calm. “Then as now,” he said, looking the pirate directly in the eyes, “I have nothing to give you.”
The Argon twisted his mouth, clearly unconvinced.
“We heard you landed a big contract,” he said, gesturing lazily around the hall. “More traffic.” He grinned widely. “And your wreck looks cleaner than last time.”
Laughter broke out behind him. He shrugged.
“But hey,” he continued, his tone suddenly mock-friendly, “if you don’t have credits…” He took a step forward. “…we’ll take materials.”
Then everything happened at once.
He suddenly reached for Misora.
Before his hand could touch her, someone moved between them. Thovareos. The Teladi stepped directly into his path.
The pirate didn’t hesitate.
A shot rang through the hall—loud, sharp.
Thovareos staggered backward. I saw the hole in his chest. Green blood burst out, dripping onto the floor. My stomach tightened violently.
Misora recoiled in shock, retreating behind us.
Kento shouted—a sound filled with fury. The old man lunged toward the Argon. But he didn’t get far.
A second shot.
I saw Kento’s head vanish in a blinding flash of energy. His body remained standing for a brief second—then collapsed heavily to the ground.
Silence fell over the hall.
“Otōsan!”
Misora’s voice tore through the stillness.
She collapsed, her legs giving way beneath her. Her hands trembled as tears streamed down her face.
The pirate leader slowly licked his lips. The gesture was repulsive. His gaze settled on Misora.
“Sweetheart,” he said with a grin. “Now the place belongs to you.” He stepped closer. “So?” His tone turned mocking. “You going to give us something now?”
His eyes moved over her body.
“I’ve still got room in my cabin.”
Laughter rose behind him.
He leaned slightly forward.
“We can gladly negotiate our shared future.”
He pronounced the word “negotiate” slowly—dripping with sarcasm.
I felt my heart hammering against my ribs. A metallic taste filled my mouth, even though I knew I wasn’t injured. My hands were damp, and I briefly wiped them against my pants to keep the trembling from showing.
Misora was kneeling behind us, her body collapsed inward as she stared at her father’s lifeless form. Her shoulders shook. Tahl stood rigid beside me, his muscles taut like a drawn wire. Vanu had both hands pressed over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.
The pirate leader, however, still stood there, grinning broadly—as if all of this were nothing more than a performance for his amusement.
Gal’s message. I had caught a glimpse of it just before the pirates stormed in. Now I knew what it contained.
Slowly, I straightened. My legs felt чуж, as if they didn’t belong to me. I took one step forward. Then another.
The Argon only noticed me when I stood directly in front of him. I met his eyes calmly. My heartbeat was so loud I was certain everyone could hear it.
“Your sister would be very disappointed in you.”
The Argon blinked, confused. “…What?” His head turned slowly toward me, his expression twisting. “Who the hell are you?” His eyes narrowed. “And what makes you think you can open your mouth?”
I forced myself to stay calm. Inside, everything felt frozen.
“Ah, Kuran,” I said, deliberately slow. “If only Mari could see you now.”
The effect was immediate. He stiffened—took half a step back. For a brief moment, all arrogance vanished from his face.
Gal’s message had been clear. An old photo. A boy with messy hair. Beside it, several digital projections of how he might look today. And then the realization—where she had heard the name before.
Mari. His sister. The one he had left behind after disappearing with the entire family fortune.
I stood there, my knees locked, forcing myself not to shake.
“Taking all the family’s money,” I continued, my voice steadier than I felt, “and vanishing without a trace.”
Kuran stared at me. His expression was empty now. No grin. No mockery. Just surprise. And something else—alarm.
Being recognized was probably nothing new to him. But someone knowing his past—this precisely—was different.
I felt my legs beginning to tremble. So I kept talking.
“Leaving Mari alone,” I said, my throat dry, “after your parents died within such a short time.”
My knees weakened, and I leaned back against a small cargo container, my hand searching for support on the cold metal.
“She ran everything into the ground,” I went on, my voice rougher now. “Didn’t even have enough credits left for food.” I looked straight into his eyes. “Now she’s in prison.” I swallowed. “Nothing but skin and bones.”
It was a lie. I knew it. But I needed leverage.
“Maybe you should go save her,” I added with a faint shrug. “Then the two of you can terrorize space together.”
Silence.
Then something flickered in Kuran’s eyes. Anger.
The shot came without warning. A flash of light. A dull crack. I saw the barrel of his weapon glowing red.
Then the pain hit.
Not like a stab—like an explosion in my chest.
My legs gave out instantly. I looked down, not understanding at first what I was seeing.
A hole. A large, gaping hole in my chest. Dark red blood sprayed outward, dripping onto the floor. I could see parts of my lungs. Sections were simply… gone. Vaporized.
Only then did I understand why I couldn’t breathe.
My lungs were no longer functioning.
I tried to inhale, but nothing came. It felt like suffocating—like drowning in emptiness.
My gaze dropped further.
And I saw my heart.
Still beating. A desperate, mechanical rhythm.
I couldn’t understand why I had said all of that out loud. I had never been like this. In dangerous situations, I had always stayed silent. Hidden. Waiting for it to pass.
So why now?
Had I changed that much over the past three years in this reality?
Or had I simply reached a point where I had nothing left to lose?
My legs finally collapsed completely. I slid slowly down the container.
The world began to blur.
Then Vanu’s face appeared above me. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her eyes were red, her mouth moving rapidly. She was saying something—again and again.
But I couldn’t hear it.
Only see it. Her lips forming words.
My vision darkened.
The pain in my chest dulled.
My body suddenly felt incredibly heavy.
And at the same time… strangely light.
I was getting tired.
Very tired.
----------
The shipyard had descended into chaos. Sparks burst from ruptured conduits as the metallic walls trembled under heavy shockwaves. Smoke rose from shattered energy lines, caught in the sharp beams of emergency lighting.
Vanu knelt beside Tori, her hands working frantically through his torn shirt as she tried to seal the gaping wound in his chest. Her face was marked by fear and determination—lips pressed tight, eyes glistening with tears, yet she held back panic through sheer force of will.
Thovareos slowly pushed himself upright, green blood dripping onto the exposed metal floor. The redundant Teladi physiology was already compensating. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling unevenly, movements unsteady—but survival was no longer in question. A strained, hissing sound escaped him, almost a cry, as he braced himself against a damaged console panel.
Tahl stood firm, energy pistol gripped in both hands. His expression was rigid with focus, lips tense, eyes flashing in the warning lights. Without hesitation, he fired controlled bursts at the advancing pirates. Sparks and smoke erupted as energy rounds struck cover and bodies alike—some pirates staggered, others dropped, the rest forced into retreat behind scattered debris.
Misora moved through the chaos with precision, her hair whipping behind her as she reached the prototype freighter.
“EMP. Now!”
Her voice cut through the noise—raw, but controlled. She struck the control interface. A harsh blue flash ignited, followed by a deep, vibrating hum that rolled through the entire shipyard.
The effect was immediate. Pirate weapons fell silent. Communication systems died. The shipyard’s internal power grid collapsed into instability—emergency lights flickered violently, artificial gravity faltered.
People staggered. Some clung to railings, others to bulkheads. Loose tools drifted through the air in unstable zero gravity. Workers, held only by magnetic boots, struggled to anchor themselves.
The group took cover behind containers and wreckage as metal fragments floated weightlessly around them. Tahl dropped to one knee beside Thovareos, shielding him. Misora secured the freighter. Vanu remained with Tori, refusing to leave his side.
The pirates began to withdraw—but not without resistance.
Their corvette appeared above the docking field. Weapon systems activated. Sirens screamed silently into the vacuum. Civilian ships scattered, executing emergency maneuvers as debris filled the space between them.
Tori was carried into the cargo bay of the prototype, already configured for specialized transport. His heart beat weakly. His lungs had partially collapsed. Vanu worked quickly, speaking to him in low, steady tones as she initiated the stasis process.
The system had not been designed for living beings—but she forced it to adapt. Energy flow reduced. Life support minimized. Just enough to suspend him between life and unconsciousness.
His body was lowered into the cold metal container. Arms at his sides. Face pale, strained. Motionless.
Thovareos, still unsteady, assisted where he could, helping stabilize fragments of the shipyard systems.
“We need to leave,” he hissed, voice rough but firm.
Vanu nodded. Fear and tension were visible in her eyes—but also resolve.
Misora initiated launch. The freighter’s systems came alive with a low hum. Artificial gravity began to stabilize.
The pirate corvette opened fire again—this time at range. But the improvised escape was faster.
Debris and smoke distorted visibility.
Then the Trantor police arrived.
Moments later, Federal military forces entered the edge of the system.
A chaotic engagement erupted.
The group used the confusion to break away.
Kuran observed from a distance. His forces were shaken, disorganized—but alive. He understood the situation. Survival now required disappearance.
His gaze lingered briefly on the prototype freighter—unaware that Tori lay within the stasis module. A cold, calculating smile crossed his face.
Then he vanished into the darkness with his corvette.
Behind them, the shipyard remained—damaged, unstable. Sparks glowed across fractured metal. Emergency lights flickered weakly. Federal response units moved in, attempting to regain control.
Inside the freighter, artificial gravity stabilized fully. Emergency systems hummed steadily.
Vanu sat beside the stasis module, her hands resting firmly on its metal frame. Her gaze shifted between the life-support readouts and the darkness beyond the viewport. The wreckage of the shipyard drifted past slowly.
She could no longer feel Tori’s heartbeat—only imagined it, like an echo within her own chest.
Thovareos approached her, unsteady, placing a clawed hand on her shoulder. He asked for assistance, despite knowing she had little understanding of Teladi physiology. The request served another purpose: to pull her focus away from Tori.
Misora remained at the controls, fingers moving rapidly across the interface. Her face was tense, a thin sheen of sweat reflecting the instrument light. She spoke quietly to herself, adjusting trajectory as the freighter navigated the debris field. Behind her, modular structures rotated subtly, maintaining gravitational balance.
Tahl stood at the rear of the cockpit, his now-drained energy pistol still in hand. His attention was fixed on sensor readouts—tracking contacts, movement, any potential threat. His posture remained rigid, tension visible in every line. He said nothing.
Outside, fragments of the destroyed shipyard drifted past the hull. Metal shards spun in silence. The last emergency lights flickered weakly in the distance.
Far away, Kuran’s corvette slipped through the flare of a jump gate. His expression remained cold, calculating—yet touched by something else. Surprise. Someone had known too much about him.
He began to consider whether it was time to sever the last ties to his past.
Inside the freighter, Tori lay motionless in stasis. Pale. Suspended.
Vanu placed a hand against the protective casing, whispering his name. No response came—only the faint, rhythmic pulse of the module.
Thovareos turned to the others.
“We survived,” he said, voice steady despite exhaustion. “But now we plan. Kuran is still out there. And we don’t know if—or when—he will return.”
The freighter’s sensors reported increasing stability as Federal ships moved into position.
Misora held the controls, eyes fixed forward.
The group was exhausted—drained by fear, adrenaline, and loss.
But they were alive.
And Tori remained in stasis, suspended between life and death—waiting for whatever would come next.
In the chaos of the universe, amid wreckage, pirates, and fading emergency lights, they had taken the first step toward survival.
But the shadows of the past had only paused. Not vanished.
