The low hum of the hangar filled the air as Kovacs sat on the edge of a workbench, his legs dangling idly. It was late, and most of the mechanics had gone home, leaving the cavernous space dim and eerily quiet. He stared at his tablet, the glow illuminating the worn lines on his face. He hadn’t touched it in minutes, and the application process for CCUAE was a constant weight in his thoughts.

The sound of footsteps broke the silence, their cadence too deliberate to be casual. Kovacs looked up, his brow furrowing as two figures emerged from the shadows. They weren’t military—at least not in the way he was used to. Their uniforms were sleek, dark, and devoid of insignias except for a single patch on their shoulders: a coiled serpent encircling a star. CID.

“Mr. Kovacs,” the taller of the two said, his voice smooth and disarming. He stopped a few paces away, his hands clasped behind his back. His partner, a woman with sharp features and an unreadable expression, remained a step behind, her eyes scanning the room.

“Yeah?” Kovacs replied cautiously, sliding off the bench. He recognized the emblem—Prescott’s Central Intelligence Division, the kind of people who operated where questions went unanswered, and accountability was a formality. “What do you want?”

The man smiled faintly, a predator’s grin dressed as politeness. “It’s not about what we want. It’s about what you need.”

Kovacs raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “I’m guessing you’re not here to offer me a vacation.”

“No,” the man said, his tone betraying a hint of amusement. “Though travel is on the table.”

The woman stepped forward, her voice colder and more direct. “We’ve been watching your work, Kovacs. Your designs. Your… potential.”

“That supposed to flatter me?” Kovacs shot back. He didn’t like how they looked at him, like a tool waiting to be picked up.

“Take it however you like,” the woman replied. “The point is, we have an opportunity for you. One that aligns with your interests.”

The man gestured toward a nearby chair. “Why don’t we sit down and talk?”

Kovacs hesitated but finally pulled a stool from under the workbench. “I’m listening.”

The three of them sat around the workbench, the tension in the air palpable. The man leaned forward slightly, his hands resting loosely on his knees. “We have a mission. Sensitive, of course. And it requires a particular set of skills—skills you happen to possess.”

“What kind of mission?” Kovacs asked, his voice flat. He wasn’t about to let them steer the conversation without a fight.

The man’s smile widened, but his eyes remained cool. “We’re sending a team to the cluster capital. Ostensibly, it’s a diplomatic venture—security detail, cultural exchange, the usual pleasantries. But unofficially? We’re looking to… observe.”

“Observe what?” Kovacs pressed.

“Technology,” the woman answered. Her gaze fixed on him, unblinking. “Their designs, their advancements. The cluster capital is a hub for innovation, and we intend to ensure Prescott doesn’t fall behind.”

“And you want me to what? Take notes?” Kovacs leaned back, his skepticism obvious.

The man chuckled softly. “In a sense. Your expertise makes you uniquely qualified to identify what might be… useful. And, of course, you’ll have ample opportunity to broaden your horizons.”

Kovacs narrowed his eyes. “Sounds like a lot of taking and not much giving.”

The woman tilted her head slightly. “That depends on your perspective. You’ve been looking for a way to advance, haven’t you? A master to teach you, schools to guide you? Consider this a… stepping stone.”

“A stepping stone that just happens to help you,” Kovacs countered.

“Mutual benefit,” the man said smoothly. “You get access to technologies and systems Prescott can’t offer. We get someone capable of recognizing what’s worth bringing back. Everyone wins.”

Kovacs drummed his fingers on the workbench, his mind racing. They offered him a chance—no, dangling it in front of him—but the strings attached were glaringly obvious. “And what’s the catch?”

“No catch,” the man said, his tone casual. “Just expectations. You’ll be part of the team—Jackie Stewart’s, specifically. The security detail is simple enough. Do your job, keep your eyes open, and report anything interesting.”

“Jackie’s involved in this?” Kovacs asked, his surprise evident.

“She’s leading the security team,” the woman said. “Her promotion made her a natural choice.”

Kovacs let out a slow breath. If Jackie was involved, it at least added a layer of trust—or so he hoped. But the idea of acting as a glorified spy left a sour taste in his mouth. “And if I say no?”

The man shrugged. “Then we wish you the best of luck with your endeavors. But you’d be walking away from an opportunity most people would kill for.”

“And I’d still have my conscience intact,” Kovacs muttered.

The man’s smile didn’t falter. “Conscience is a flexible thing. Think of this as a chance to serve Prescott in ways few can.”

After what felt like hours of back-and-forth, the agents stood to leave, their offer left hanging in the air. The man paused at the doorway, glancing back at Kovacs. “Think it over. The ship leaves in three days. If you’re interested, report to Dock Nine. If not… well, some roads are best not traveled twice.”

The woman didn’t say goodbye, her sharp gaze lingering on Kovacs for a moment before she followed her partner into the shadows.

The next morning, Kovacs found Jackie in the training yard, her squad running drills in the cold dawn light. She spotted him as he approached, her expression shifting from stern to curious.

“Kovacs,” she called, stepping away from her squad. “What brings you here?”

“CID,”

Her expression darkened. “What do they want with you?”

“They want me to join your team,” he said, folding his arms. “Some mission to the cluster capital. Observation, tech scouting, all wrapped up in a nice little security job.”

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Jackie’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re thinking about it.”

“I’m… considering it,” he admitted.

She crossed her arms, studying him. “What’s holding you back?”

“Everything,” Kovacs said. “They’re not exactly known for transparency. Feels like I’d be walking into something I don’t fully understand.”

Jackie smirked faintly. “That’s because you would be. CID doesn’t deal in straight lines.”

“Then why are you involved?” Kovacs asked.

Her smirk faded. “Because someone has to be. And missions like this—when they go south—need someone who cares enough to pull the pieces back together.”

Kovacs looked away, his mind still churning. “They made it sound like a chance to learn. To grow.”

“And maybe it is,” Jackie said. “But don’t fool yourself into thinking they’re doing you a favor. They’re using you, Kovacs. Just like they’re using me.”

“Then why should I go?” he asked.

“Because sometimes,” she said quietly, “the only way to find what you’re looking for is to take a risk. Even if it means trusting the wrong people.”

The Starliner Resolute wasn’t the sleek, cutting-edge vessel Kovacs had imagined when CID had first mentioned “travel to the cluster capital.” Instead, it was a hulking, utilitarian transport ship, its massive cargo bays designed more for hauling freight than passengers. Its matte-gray hull was pockmarked with the scars of countless voyages through asteroid fields and battle zones, the kind of wear that came from being a workhorse rather than a thoroughbred.

As Kovacs stepped off the boarding ramp and into the ship’s interior, the scent of grease and stale air hit him immediately. The corridor was dimly lit, its walls streaked with grime despite the efforts of maintenance crews. The hum of the ship’s reactors reverberated through the floor, a constant reminder of its power and age.

The crew bustled about, a mix of uniformed officers and civilian contractors. Kovacs watched workers guide crates marked with stenciled warnings—FRAGILE and HANDLE WITH CARE—into the cargo bays. Some crates bore military insignias, while others had the distinct markings of industrial supplies.

“What are we carrying?” Kovacs asked Jackie as she appeared beside him, her duffel slung over her shoulder.

“Everything,” she replied, her tone dry. “Mostly replacement parts, food rations, and industrial equipment. And us, of course.”

“Anything worth stealing?” Kovacs pressed.

Jackie smirked. “That depends on how desperate someone is for 40-year-old power couplings and canned beans.”

***

Three days later, Kovacs found himself on the observation deck, a sprawling chamber with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an uninterrupted view of the stars. The transparent panels hummed faintly with shielding, protecting the occupants from the radiation of space. The deck was quieter than most other parts of the ship, a sanctuary from the bustling chaos below.

Kovacs stood near the edge of the glass, his hands in his pockets, as Prescott shrank in the distance. The planet’s pale blue and green hues faded into the black void, its scars invisible from this height. His stomach churned, the weight of his decision settling fully for the first time.

“It’s not what you expected, is it?” a voice said from behind him.

Kovacs turned to see Jackie leaning against the wall. Her expression was calm but distant. She was still in uniform, and her posture was relaxed but professional.

“Not really,” Kovacs admitted. He gestured toward the fading planet. “It feels… final.”

“It’s not,” she said, standing beside him. “You’ll come back. Maybe not the same, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

Kovacs gave a small, humorless laugh. “You make it sound easy.”

“Nothing worth doing is easy,” Jackie said, clasping her hands behind her back. She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “Regrets already?”

“Not yet,” Kovacs said, though his voice lacked conviction.

Jackie smirked faintly. “Don’t overthink it. It’s just another mission.”

But as Kovacs stared at the shrinking image of Prescott, they both knew it wasn’t.

The soft murmur of the ship’s systems filled the observation deck, a constant backdrop to Kovacs’ thoughts. He stood near the glass, his gaze fixed on the void. Prescott was gone from view, swallowed by the infinite black of space. The thought left him hollow as if a tether had been severed.

The sound of boots on the metal floor pulled him from his reverie. Kovacs turned, expecting another crewmember or perhaps Jackie again. Instead, he froze, his heart skipping a beat.

He wasn’t wearing a uniform like the others on the Resolute. Instead, he was dressed in a sharp, tailored suit that looked impossibly out of place aboard the utilitarian transport. The deep charcoal fabric caught the faint glow of the observation deck’s lights, and the crimson pocket square seemed to pulse like a warning beacon. His thin, angular face bore a faint smirk, his dark eyes glinting with amusement—or calculation.

“Kovacs,” Alphonse said, his voice smooth and warm as if they were old friends. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Kovacs’ jaw tightened. His first instinct was to walk away, but the man’s presence alone was enough to root him in place. “Alphonse. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Alphonse chuckled, the sound low and almost musical. “And yet here we are. The galaxy is small like that, isn’t it?” He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey. “I heard you’d be joining this little adventure, and I thought, What an opportunity.”

“What do you want?” Kovacs asked, his tone sharper than he intended. He hated how Alphonse always managed to twist the air in a room, tilting it in his favor.

“Want?” Alphonse said, feigning surprise. “Why must you assume I want something? Can’t a man simply admire the stars and exchange pleasantries with an old acquaintance?”

“We’re not acquaintances,” Kovacs said coldly. “And you don’t do anything without a reason.”

Alphonse’s smirk widened. “True, I’ve never been one for wasting time. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He took another step forward, close enough that Kovacs could see the faint scar tracing the corner of his mouth. “You have a knack for finding yourself in interesting places, Kovacs. And interesting places tend to present… opportunities.”

“I’m not interested,” Kovacs said, returning to the glass. His pulse quickened as he spoke, though he tried to mask it.

Alphonse’s reflection in the glass tilted its head, the smirk never leaving his face. “Not yet. But you will be. You see, the Resolute isn’t just carrying rations and spare parts. It’s carrying ambitions. Futures. And futures, my friend, are what I deal in.”

“Stay out of mine,” Kovacs said through clenched teeth.

“Now, now,” Alphonse said, his tone mockingly chiding. “Let’s not be so hasty. You’ve got talent, Kovacs. Real talent. It would be such a shame to see it squandered.”

Kovacs turned to face him, his fists clenched. “Whatever game you’re playing, leave me out of it.”

Alphonse held up his hands, his expression the picture of innocence. “No games. Not yet, anyway. Just… a conversation. After all, we’re stuck on this ship together for a while. Who knows what alliances might prove useful?”

Before Kovacs could reply, Alphonse stepped back, his gaze sweeping the observation deck as though surveying a chessboard. “Enjoy the stars, Kovacs. We’ll talk again soon. I have no doubt.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps measured and unhurried. Kovacs watched him go, his mind racing. The tension in his chest lingered even after Alphonse disappeared into the ship’s labyrinthine corridors.

A moment later, Jackie entered the observation deck, her sharp gaze immediately flicking to Kovacs. “What’s wrong?”

Kovacs shook his head, forcing himself to relax. “Nothing.”

Jackie narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He hesitated, glancing toward the corridor where Alphonse had vanished. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, her tone skeptical. “Let me guess—trouble found you.”

“It always does,” Kovacs muttered.

Jackie crossed her arms, her expression softening slightly. “Just keep your head down. Whoever it is, whatever they want, don’t let them distract you. You’ve got bigger things to focus on.”

Kovacs nodded, though Alphonse’s parting words still echoed in his mind. “Futures are the kind of thing I deal in.”

Jackie was right. He had bigger things to focus on. But something told him Alphonse wouldn’t let him forget their “conversation.” Not for long.