The Black Fang drifted in orbit, safe for now. The blue curve of Kestris lay below, distant yet far too close for comfort. The ship hummed softly, stabilizing from the jump, its systems slowly resetting after the chaos of their escape.

Fang barely acknowledged any of it.

She pressed both hands to the nearest bulkhead, then her forehead, then—without a hint of shame—kissed the cold metal. “Missed you, sweetheart. Don’t be scared; you’re alright now.”

Gravel gave her a flat look. “You done?”

“Give me a minute,” she muttered, running her hands reverently over the console. “She’s been through hell.”

Sloan, arms still crossed, raised an eyebrow. “It’s a ship.”

Fang narrowed her eyes at her. “It’s our ship. You wouldn’t get it, ship thief.”

Hunter, passing by, didn’t even bother hiding her smirk. “Weirdest relationship I’ve seen, but you do you.”

“Second weirdest for her alone,” Gravel said.

Priest, meanwhile, was focused on something far more pressing. He sat at the ship’s terminal, fingers tapping at the interface, frowning as error messages flickered across the holo-display.

Connection Lost.

Remote Link Disrupted.

Decryption Process Halted.

The files from the drive still glowed dimly on-screen, some portions decrypted, others buried under corrupted data strings.

Hunter leaned over the back of Priest’s chair. “That’s bad, yeah?”

Priest didn’t respond right away, jaw set. “We lost Vanje.”

Gravel walked over, frowning. “What do you mean, lost?”

Priest exhaled through his nose. “I mean, the link’s dead. No trace, no signal.”

A hush settled over the room.

Gravel straightened. “So the drive—?”

Priest drummed his fingers against the console, eyes narrowing. “The parts we decrypted are intact. But the rest? It’s locked in this state unless we find another way through.”

Fang groaned. “Great. Half a conspiracy. That’s super useful.”

Hunter crossed her arms. “You think Vanje cut and ran? Or was he cut off?”

Priest’s visor flickered as he scanned for any residual signals. “I’d be surprised the connection is intact after a space jump.”

Gravel muttered something under his breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Alright. We’re in orbit. We’ve got our ship back. We can figure out the rest later.” He turned to Sloan. “Where can we drop you?”

Sloan, who had been quiet, finally looked up. Her expression was unreadable, her fingers gripping the edge of a console as if steadying herself.

“Kestris,” she said.

Gravel frowned. “Kestris? Like Kestris number 9 and not any other digit?”

Sloan exhaled, something flickering behind her eyes. “It’s been my home my entire life.” A beat passed. Then, softer. “I’ve never been anywhere else.”

That landed heavier than anyone expected.

Gravel exchanged a glance with Priest, who said nothing. Hunter shifted her weight slightly, unreadable. Even Fang—who usually had a quip for everything—stayed quiet for half a second longer than usual.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Then Fang shrugged. “Well. Sucks to be a corpo lapdog, I guess.”

Sloan shot her a dry look.

Gravel rubbed his temple. “Right. Let’s start with not going back there.”

Sloan didn’t argue.

Gravel continued, “But I’m not letting you stay.”

Hunter leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed. “We can’t just drop her in space.”

Gravel gestured vaguely at the viewport. “There’s plenty of places that aren’t here. Fozzia-16 don’t give a shit about fugitives.”

Sloan arched a brow. “Charming.”

Hunter smirked. “Look, I’m just saying. We don’t need to argue about whether she stays. We all know we’re not about to shove her out an airlock.”

Gravel folded his arms. “I don’t know. Maybe we do a vote.”

“Gravel.”

“No arguments. We do a vote.”

Priest spoke up from across the room. “You’re going to want to see this.”

The quiet weight in his tone made everyone turn.

He gestured toward the screen, the dim glow of the half-decrypted drive casting faint shadows across his visor. “I was combing through the last decrypted portions. Looking for anything solid.”

Gravel frowned. “And?”

Priest tapped a specific line of text, making it pulse faintly on the display.

A name.

Sloan Albrecht.

The room went still.

Gravel folded his arms, his voice flat. “Care to explain?”

Sloan barely glanced at him. “Explain what?”

He gestured toward the screen. “Why your name is in the drive.” Then he stepped one step closer to her, staring her down.

Sloan blinked, her expression unreadable. “What drive?”

Hunter scoffed, crossing her arms. “The one we got from Namor-4. The one we’ve been decrypting for days. The one that got us into this mess.”

Sloan’s brow furrowed slightly. “I didn’t even know such a thing existed.”

“Then why’s your name in there? We got this from another planet. You said you haven’t even been outside of Kestris-9.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t even heard of Namor before.” Sloan’s face barely shifted, but there was something in her eyes—confusion, maybe, or something deeper. Gravel didn’t buy it.

He narrowed his eyes. “Right. Because top-level corporate data just randomly decides to throw your name in for fun.”

Sloan exhaled, crossing her arms. “Why don’t you read out loud what kind of intel my name’s attached to, Priest?”

Priest’s fingers flicked over the console, pulling up the surrounding text. Lines of half-corrupted data scrolled past until he isolated the relevant section.

A grainy, corrupted block of data flickered into clearer focus, timestamped years ago.

Authorization Log—Classified Shipment Transfer

Approved by: Sloan Albrecht

Destination: Secure Processing Facility (REDACTED)

Contents: Biotechnical Materials

The file ended there, sections still redacted or scrambled beyond readability.

Sloan frowned. “That doesn’t tell me anything.”

“It tells me you greenlit something,” Gravel said. “A shipment of ‘biotechnical materials’? What was it? Where was it going?”

She shook her head, brow furrowing. “I don’t remember approving anything like that.”

Hunter narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, convenient.”

“I don’t.” Sloan’s tone sharpened. “Do you know how much paperwork went through my hands back in Kestris? Thousands of routine approvals, shipments, transfers. And that file doesn’t even tell me what the cargo actually was.”

Gravel wasn’t buying it. “Or you just don’t want to remember.”

Sloan’s jaw tightened. “I’ve never been off-world. So why the hell would I be involved in something that ended up on an obscure planet?”

Priest’s visor flickered, running another pass through the corrupted segments. He exhaled slowly. “We can’t prove she’s lying. The approval is there, but nothing links her to knowing what it was for.”

Hunter folded her arms. “Or, that part is what’s still encrypted.”

Sloan’s fingers curled against the console, frustration flickering in her eyes. “If this is supposed to mean something, then decrypt the rest of it. Because right now, all I see is my name on some old shipping log.”

Gravel wasn’t convinced, but he turned back to Priest. “Can you break through the rest?”

Priest’s fingers hovered over the controls. “Not without Vanje.”

A silence settled over them.

Fang, who had been oddly quiet, finally spoke. “So. We’re stuck with half a conspiracy. And this,” she gestured at Sloan, “is the only clue we’ve got?”

Sloan exhaled sharply and rubbed her temple. “Believe me, if I knew what this was about, I wouldn’t be sitting here letting you all interrogate me.”

Gravel studied her for a long moment, then sighed. “Well, guess what? Now you do have to care.” He pushed himself off the console and motioned toward the corridor. “Come on, you’re bunking in the spare room. And by ‘spare room,’ I mean the storage closet with a mattress in it.”

Sloan pursed her lips. “Fine.”

Gravel kept walking. “Yeah, well, we weren’t planning on housing fugitives.” He pointed toward the dimly lit door near the engine bay. “There. That’s your spot.”

Sloan glanced at the tiny room, its walls lined with metal crates, a rickety cot crammed into the corner. “You know, I was about to give you all a warmer welcome back in Kestris.”

Gravel smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah? And what, roll out a red carpet? Give us a real fruit basket?”

Sloan gave him a flat look. “Something like that.” She stepped inside, brushing dust off the cot before sitting down. “This would be illegal on Kestris.”

Hunter passed by, pausing just long enough to peer into the room. “This place is a mess.”

Gravel clapped her on the shoulder. “Great observation. Now clean it.”

Hunter scoffed. “Why me?”

“Because I’m busy dealing with our newest resident.”

Hunter folded her arms. “And I’m busy dealing with you.”

Sloan exhaled. “I’ll clean it myself.”

Gravel grinned. “See? She’s adjusting already.”

Fang’s voice chimed in over the intercom. “If this is about cleaning duty, I want no part of it.”

Hunter shot a look up at the speaker. “Coward.”

Back at the common room, Priest leaned back, watching the screen. The incomplete data pulsed in front of his eyes.