Kael crouched beside the tethered cargo crate where the alien corpse was secured. Frost traced fine lines along the metal surface, the absolute zero of space preserving its twisted anatomy. The thing hadn't moved, obviously—but he still checked it every time he suited up. Maybe part of him hoped it would vanish, take the questions with it.
Patch hovered silently above, sensor lights pulsing soft blue as it scanned for radiation flares and movement within the local drift. Nothing yet. The wreckage of Zone C had quieted, and the scavenger drone core was already locked in the shuttle's storage unit, tagged and ready for integration.
Inside the cockpit, Renn's voice crackled weakly through the comm.
"Kael. How much longer?"
Kael sighed. "I'm wrapping up the sweep. Shouldn't be more than twenty minutes."
"That module—Med Lab 24—I need to get back to it. If the others are still alive… I shouldn't have left them."
Kael hesitated. He'd seen that guilt before—in his own reflection, more than once. "You didn't have a choice, Commander."
"I know," Renn muttered. "Still doesn't help."
Kael floated back into the shuttle and sealed the airlock. The whine of pressure equalizing filled his ears, followed by the comforting hum of life support. He stripped off the helmet and made his way to the front.
Renn sat strapped into the copilot's seat, leg stabilized in the makeshift brace Kael had improvised. He looked better now—color had returned to his face, and his breathing was steadier—but the set of his jaw was sharp with tension.
"I've almost finished the drone assembly," Kael said, sliding into the pilot's chair. "Once the systems are up, I'll be able to automate salvage runs. It'll triple our resource intake."
Renn gave him a look—equal parts confusion and disbelief. "You've been upgrading a personal shuttle? Out here?"
Kael gave a dry chuckle. "Not like I had much choice. When the collapse hit, it was either float and die, or make this thing a lifeboat. I've added power modules, fabrication subsystems, AI integration… Hell, we've even got Patch now."
The floating drone dipped slightly at the mention of its name.
Renn shook his head slowly, the lines around his eyes tightening. "You're one hell of a technician, Verrick."
Kael's gaze darkened slightly at the use of his full name, but he said nothing.
"Still," Renn continued, "that module… if anyone's still alive in Med Lab 24, they'll be running out of time. Even with rations, the structural integrity wouldn't hold forever. That creature—it knew how to find us. It might have gone back."
Kael nodded. "I understand. And we're not ignoring it. But to make it there, I need this shuttle ready. More drones, more salvage, more power. I don't even have full life support redundancy yet. If something goes wrong during approach…"
Renn's jaw clenched. "Then hurry."
⸻
Back in the maintenance bay, Kael unlocked the drone fabrication menu on the console. The scavenger core pulsed green in the interface. Parts for one hauler drone were already marked as scavenged. The rest—two maintenance units and a second hauler—were still listed as incomplete.
He adjusted the parameters and fed in the scavenger specs. The system accepted the command with a chime, shifting into blueprint projection mode.
"Patch, how many components do we still need for a full drone suite?"
"Three propulsion cores. One reinforced chassis frame. Four servo stabilizers. Estimated resource value: 63 salvage units."
Kael exhaled and rubbed his eyes. "All right. Prioritize recovery zones closest to known wreckage routes. I want to move fast."
"Confirmed."
He sat back and looked at the shuttle's cramped ceiling. Everything felt like it was accelerating—more people, more threats, more responsibility. The moment he'd pulled that commander aboard, his mission had changed. Survival had company now. Duty.
And still, there was that damn creature.
The corpse outside the ship was an anomaly—impossible and terrifying. But the one Renn described, the giant? That was something else entirely. A different scale. A different threat. If it was still out there, moving among the remains of the Prospector's Dagger, then even fully armed rescue teams might not survive an encounter.
"Kael," Patch interrupted. "Cryo Module 57 is requesting status update."
He moved to the console and activated the encrypted channel. Dr. Voss's face flickered onto the screen, grainy but stable.
"We received your signal. Is Commander Renn awake?"
Kael nodded. "Yeah. He's in rough shape, but alive. He confirmed Med Lab 24 was intact as of a week ago. Over a hundred survivors might still be there."
Voss's expression shifted to surprise, then grim purpose. "That's more than we'd hoped."
"He's anxious to get back to them. I'm working on finishing the drone suite now. Once that's done, I'll have the range and recovery capacity to mount a proper search."
"Understood. Sergeant Ivers and Corporal Renna are keeping things secure on our end. And Juno's stabilized the woman from hydroponics. She's still unconscious but holding on."
Kael offered a nod. "Good. Tell them I'll check in again once I complete the hauler drone. I'm estimating two shifts."
"We'll be ready."
The screen blinked out. Kael leaned back, fingers tapping rhythmically on the metal panel beside him. This had started as a salvage run. A desperate bid to stay alive.
Now it was becoming a rescue mission.
And the stars outside—cold and silent—seemed to press closer against the glass.