The recording cut off. The female’s face dissolved into static, then nothing. The projector sat silent and dark.
He stared at the space where the image had been, his mind racing.
Another artifact. Here. In the deep caverns. The star map had been right. Faith’s analysis had been right. There was an artifact hidden on this asteroid, somewhere in the labyrinth of tunnels that honeycombed its interior. All he had to do was find it.
He picked up the data crystal, turning it over in his palm. The glow intensified again, and this time he could feel something—a pull like a compass needle swinging towards magnetic north. The crystal was responding to his intention, guiding him towards the artifact.
He had no idea when the recording had been made. It could have been months or even years. The station had been abandoned for a long time, but the life support suggested recent activity. Which meant that the Grorn might have come back.
Letting the crystal guide him, he left the control room and descended deeper into the asteroid. The corridors grew narrower and rougher, transitioning from station construction to raw mining tunnels. The walls here bore the marks of industrial extraction, laser-cut and drill-scarred, veins of ore still visible in the exposed rock.
The data crystal pulsed in his pocket, warm and insistent. Left here. Down this shaft. Through this junction. The guidance was subtle but unmistakable, leading him through the maze of tunnels like a thread through a labyrinth.
He’d been walking for perhaps twenty minutes when he heard the voices. Distant and distorted by the tunnel acoustics into something barely recognizable as speech, but it was speech nonetheless.
He froze and killed his light. Darkness swallowed him instantly, but his night vision quickly adjusted. He could see a faint glow ahead, the suggestion of illumination around a bend in the tunnel.
Someone else is here.
He pressed himself against the wall and crept forward, his movements silent despite the rough terrain. The tunnel curved. The light grew brighter. And then, through a natural gap in the stone, he saw them.
Grorn. Four of them, their massive frames unmistakable even at this distance. They wore their usual dark fitted uniforms, the fanged skull insignia visible on their shoulders. Each of them carried a military-grade plasma rifle, and one held a device that looked like a scanner of some kind.
They were clustered around a junction, consulting the scanner, arguing in their guttural language. The tunnel distorted the acoustics and he could only catch fragments of their conversation.
“...deeper... signal... same as before...”
“...waste of time... search pattern compromised...”
“...Commander wants results... consequences if we fail...”
They were searching for the same artifact he was seeking.
His hand tightened on his pistol. Four against one—difficult odds, but not impossible. If he could catch them by surprise, take out the scanner operator first, then use the tunnel geometry to his advantage... He’d faced worse. He’d survived worse.
The crystal pulsed in his pocket, eager, urging him forward. The artifact was close. He could feel it. Maybe half a kilometer, maybe less. If he could get past the Grorn, find the cavern, retrieve the artifact?—
But Emma and Ari were alone on his ship.
The crystal pulsed again. The artifact was so close. Years of searching, years of obsession, years of telling himself that if he could just find the Vault, everything would be worth it. His father’s rejection, his mother’s death, the endless wandering from world to world. If he could just prove himself, just accomplish something that mattered, just be something other than a half-breed bastard with delusions of grandeur?—
Opening the Vault could change everything. The technology inside could reshape the galaxy. And he was so close. So goddamn close.
All he had to do was to forget about his ship and go.
The thought was there for barely a heartbeat. Then it was gone, replaced by something else—something that had been growing inside him since the moment he’d seen Emma in that corridor on the Ithyian ship, clutching an alien baby to her chest, terrified but determined to protect an infant she’d never met.
He’d told himself that he needed her to care for Ari. That his interest was practical, nothing more. He’d told himself the same thing many times since then—when she made him laugh, when she challenged him, when she fell asleep in his arms and he lay awake watching her breathe.
He’d been lying.
I’ve been chasing ghosts while the real treasures slip through my fingers.
But not this time. Not her. Not them.
He eased silently back from the gap, and retreated through the tunnels, retracing his steps. He moved faster now, less cautious, his enhanced senses straining for any sign of pursuit. The Grorn hadn’t seen them. Hadn’t heard them. They’d been too focused on their own search to notice the prey slipping away in the darkness.
Prey. The word tasted bitter. He wasn’t used to being prey.
