“Looks like it’s in far orbit, way out beyond the final ice planet,” Gami observed.

They were passively scanning the collection of random junk. There was enough room to maneuver their ship, but in many places it would get close. No signs of life. No thruster bursts. No com signals. Just cold metal.

Pieces of equipment, ranging from small appliances to starship subsystems floated around. Hundreds of sections of melted and mangled hull plates were present. Other pieces of starships, including the wreck of a fighter could be seen. There was the upper deck of an Apogee class. A few small asteroids were mixed in, contrasting with the refined metal and plastics. They even spotted the discarded shell of an old chemical rocket. All of it orbited around a derelict warship, the class of which the computer and Gami were both unable to identify.

“It look natural to you?” Eli asked.

“It’s possible. Look in the center. That big dreadnought might have enough gravity to attract the rest of it over time. Maybe a part of the artificial gravity system is still active. Stranger things have happened.”

They had received another distress call on the way there. It was a general call for aid, prerecorded in an artificial trade language that was created before the tadvash.

“Could be some nice salvage in there,” Eli suggested.

“Could be. Could be a lot of things.”

“Ya, and one of them might be a stranded starship crew.”

“True. Let’s get in there and find out what’s going on.”

Eli settled into the retractable cockpit. Gami sat at one of the bridge’s adaptable control consoles. She focused on monitoring the scanner and communications system while the human flew the ship into the debris field.

Eli slid the ship around a com satellite that looked like it had taken a hit from a meteor. He maneuvered around an engine that was twice the size of Cavalier. Then he struggled to avoid a smashed-up cargo container. He shut off the proximity hazard warning, as it was constantly blaring.

“Anything?” he asked Gami via the internal com.

“Nothing yet. Should we risk active scanning?”

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“No. Don’t try to raise them either. If it is a trap, stealth is our best approach.”

“Then how are we supposed to find the people that are in need of help?”

“We’ll make damn sure that it’s safe first. They’ll understand.”

“It’s for the best,” Gami agreed, “But the longer that we stay in here, the more likely we’ll take a hit.”

The junk was starting to get so thick that he could barely see outside of the debris field. He could no longer pick out individual stars. The only things he could see were the system’s distant sun and the burning orange light of a nebula.

“Just heard the distress signal again,” Gami told him, “It came from somewhere on the dreadnought but it’s difficult to pinpoint.”

“Luring us in deeper,” Eli suggested.

“Maybe. I haven’t seen any movement.”

Then he saw it, a brief flash of light, a little dot of green that was gone in a blink. He straightened the ship out as best as he was able and focused on that spot. There was nothing out of the ordinary there, at least that he could tell with all of the junk floating around. Perhaps it had been a glimpse of a particularly bright star. Then it happened again. He could have sworn that it was pointed at Cavalier.

“I just saw something, a light,” he informed Gami, before giving her a rough estimate of its coordinates.

It happened again. Gami indicated that she had seen it on the camera feed. Eli dodged a few pieces of scrap metal, before focusing on the area in question.

“I think it might be an intact ship,” she announced.

“Really? Any idea what kind?”

“A light cargo hauler would be my best guess. I’m seeing some damage, possibly from combat.”

“I’ll head toward it. Keep your head on the swivel.”

Eli vectored the craft toward the spot that Gami indicated using the scanner readout. It was an especially thick patch of debris. The wreck of the dreadnought loomed behind it.

The light flashed a few more times, occasionally in fast pulses. He was unable to tell if this was something like Morse code, or if they just wanted to make sure that the signal was seen. The tadvash stayed silent.

After a few minutes of steady cruising, he was able to visually pick out the small freighter. It was a simple, functional design. Bays and clamps for containers were positioned in long rows on the sides of a central spine. The crew quarters and life support were located at the front. There was a small hangar on the topside, a bit forward of the engines. A pair of turrets were mounted on the front section.

The red paint that outlined the bays was heavily chipped. On a flat section the silhouette of a mountain had been painted in green. Under this, the name of the ship had been stenciled: Rust Goddess.

He saw the light one more time. It was coming from one of the ship’s portholes.

Gami spoke, “I’m picking up some very faint power readings. They’re laying low, alright. Just enough energy to keep the life support going.”

“That’s a bad sign. Ever see that symbol before?”

“The mountain? Probably just a corporate logo.”

Something happened. Lights in different spots, many of them near the dead warship. At first it was just one, but many others quickly joined it. Jets of white light, popping and casting out molten sparks. They were filled with a pattern that reminded him of TV static. The tadvash spoke, saying things like, “They’re here,” and, “More prey,” and, “We have them.”