There was a sound that Atlas Kael had grown accustomed to, one that many might miss, but he had learned to appreciate with quiet reverence.
It was the soft hum of the Valkyris-9's internal systems as they cycled up from standby.
A voice might have called it mechanical, but to Atlas, it was something else. A pulse. A whisper. The heartbeat of a ship that had saved him more times than he cared to admit.
He stood at the central control console in the narrow bridge, flicking through pre-launch diagnostics. The illumination was low a cool blue glow that danced across his weathered flight suit and sharpened the lines of his gaunt face.
Time and routine had etched calm into his bones.
"EVA," he said, his voice deep but distant.
"Status report."
"All core systems operational," replied a voice that was neither warm nor cold.
Just present. EVA, the newly integrated AI module, had only been part of Valkyris-9 for two weeks. Her speech was exact. Clean. Unaffected.
He glanced at the monitor, where her avatar hovered a simple ring of soft white light.
"You always that punctual?"
"I am designed for optimal response.
Punctuality is part of my calibration."
Atlas gave a faint smirk. "Right. Forgot I was talking to the smartest mind in the quadrant."
"Your sarcasm has been noted."
He chuckled under his breath, but it didn't last.
The bridge was too quiet. Even the faint rumble of power through conduits felt subdued today. Like the ship was holding its breath.
He moved along the control array, fingers brushing rows of tactile buttons, each one worn from years of use.
The Valkyris-9 was an old model one of the last mid-range Hyperline freighters built before the Great Realignment.
Most had been retired, stripped for parts, or reassigned to unmanned transport fleets.
Not hers. Not this one. He'd kept her running with spit, grit, and more than a few sleepless nights.
He ran a slow hand down the edge of the pilot's chair. "Remember when this thing almost ejected me during that storm over Juno-IV?"
"The hydraulic clamps failed due to structural fatigue. You failed to maintain them adequately."
"Thanks for the reminder, EVA."
The A.I. did not reply. Silence returned, like it always did.
Atlas slipped into the chair. The weight of the harness clicked across his chest as he activated the HUD.
The screen flared to life with planetary charts, orbital schematics, traffic vectors.
Their route today was classified under Zone 7, which meant minimal interference but maximum caution conflict sectors tended to have unpredictable dangers rogue satellites, debris fields, pirate remnants. Worse.
He opened the mission briefing again, scrolling through bureaucratic lingo.
Supply Run 1087-B. Emergency Rations. Plasma Cells. Medkits.
Destination: Belarion Delta a name that didn't bring comfort. The system had been a warzone for the last five months.
"EVA," he murmured, "What's the survival rating for independent vessels entering Belarion Delta this quarter?"
A pause.
"Seventeen percent."
"Optimistic."
"I can round down."
He allowed himself a rare smile. A bitter one. "Nah. Let's keep that seventeen. Makes me feel lucky."
The walls of the ship seemed to close in around him as the pre-launch sequence finalized. Hydraulic arms outside the bay retracted with a groaning screech.
The station's synthetic voice detached and impersonal gave clearance for departure.
Engines rumbled beneath him like ancient titans stirring.
"EVA," he said softly, tightening his gloves,
"Set course for Belarion. And keep the sensors wide open. I've got a bad feeling about this one."
"Noted, Captain."
As the Valkyris-9 slipped from the cradle of the orbital station, engines flaring into the vacuum, Atlas watched the curve of the Earth vanish into distant memory.
He wondered not for the first time if he'd ever see it again.