Arrival at Korda
The Red Radiant dropped out of slipstream with a howl of bending starlight,
emerging over the craggy, twisted fields of Outpost Korda.
The outpost clung to a cluster of shattered asteroids, connected by rickety bridges and pulsing neon platforms.
A half-forgotten relic of empire wars —
now home to smugglers, refugees, bounty hunters, black-market tech dealers… and worse.
At its heart rose a single command tower:
half-collapsed, its banners faded by cosmic dust.
Officially, it was still under the jurisdiction of the Velvaran Republic —
a relatively neutral empire.
Unofficially?
It was lawless.
Perfect for a quiet bounty hunt.
Perfect for betrayal.
⸻
In the cockpit, Jaxen Rhane whistled low as he guided the Radiant into a docking tunnel.
"Gotta hand it to 'em," he muttered, fingers flying over the controls. "Ugliest piece of rock I've ever seen. Almost charming."
Behind him, Zaraya Starheart leaned over the co-pilot's seat, eyes wide with excitement.
"First rule of outposts like this," she said brightly.
"The uglier it is, the better the stories."
Kaelen Veylor stood silent behind them, arms crossed, wings curled inward like a living shadow.
He said nothing.
But he watched the scanners — watched the way too many ships orbited the outpost's gravity wells.
Something felt wrong already.
⸻
The Plan
"Doctor's name is Veyla Dran," Zaraya said, tapping the bounty marker into their holomap.
"Exobiologist. Worked for the Velvaran fleet. Went off-grid last year.
Apparently she knows something about our missing 'giant.'"
Jaxen chuckled under his breath.
"Giant, she says. Probably some overgrown junk trader with a big stick.*"
Zaraya grinned.
Kaelen remained silent, studying the approach vectors.
Finally, he spoke.
"No heavy weapons. No powers unless necessary.
We find the doctor. We leave clean."
"We try to leave clean," Zaraya corrected, winking.
⸻
Into the Hornet's Nest
The Red Radiant touched down on a broken landing pad with a shudder.
The crew disembarked into the swirling dust storms and flickering neon of Outpost Korda.
Vendors hawked cracked starship parts and illegal cybernetics.
Hunters and mercs leaned against the walls, armed to the teeth.
Graffiti in half a dozen dead languages marked the tunnels.
"Stay close, stay casual," Jaxen said, pulling his worn jacket tighter around his body.
"Casual's my middle name," Zaraya said.
Kaelen gave her a slow, skeptical look.
"Loud, maybe," he muttered.
⸻
The Black Circuit's Shadow
As they split up to gather information,
Jaxen felt it.
A prickling down his spine.
A chill under the skin, cybernetic or not.
Someone was watching.
In a dark corner of the marketplace, he spotted him:
• Heavy black trench coat.
• Glowing red ocular implants.
• A black-ink tattoo of a shattered circuit around his neck.
Black Circuit enforcer.
Worse:
Nexo Korr — one of the hunters the Black Circuit unleashed when they really wanted someone dragged back in chains.
Jaxen swore under his breath.
He slipped away from the main street, ducking behind a rusted vendor stall.
Nexo followed.
Jaxen turned a corner — and Nexo was there, blocking the way.
⸻
A Quiet Threat
"Hello, Runner," Nexo rasped, voice full of static malice.
"Long way from home."
Jaxen forced a lazy grin, hands raised.
"Hey, Nexo. You're looking… crusty.
Still smell like fried servos, or you switch deodorant?"
Nexo didn't laugh.
"High Matron Vessk wants her asset back.
Whole fleet's itching to carve you up, Jaxen."
"Tell her to get in line," Jaxen snapped.
Nexo leaned in closer, his breath like cold metal.
"Run all you want, little flyer.
Every star you hide behind, we'll be there.
And now… your little crew?
They'll wear your debt too."
Jaxen's cocky smile faltered — just for a heartbeat.
Nexo saw it.
And smiled coldly.
⸻
Meanwhile
Kaelen and Zaraya regrouped near the landing bays.
Kaelen's eyes narrowed.
Something… off.
Jaxen was too slow returning.
His body language, when he reappeared, was too relaxed — forced.
"Find anything?" Zaraya asked brightly.
"Nah," Jaxen said, shrugging. "Dust, scams, bad coffee. Standard."
Kaelen studied him silently.
Zaraya tilted her head, sensing the tension —
but said nothing.
She just smiled.
"He'll tell us when he's ready," she thought.
She had learned long ago:
Trust wasn't demanded.
It was offered.
⸻
The Next Lead
"Doctor's holed up in the command tower," Jaxen said, changing the subject fast.
"Word is the admiral's been keeping her under 'protective custody.'"
"Protective, huh," Zaraya said, snorting.
"Yeah. Smells like cult work to me."
Kaelen nodded once.
"We move at nightfall."
"Nice and clean?" Zaraya teased.
Kaelen's violet gaze burned like twin stars.
"Clean as war ever is."
And high above them, buried in the corrupted towers of Outpost Korda,
the doctor who could change their future waited —
unknowing.
Unprotected.
Almost out of time.
⸻
Arrival at Korda
The Red Radiant dropped out of slipstream with a howl of bending starlight,
emerging over the craggy, twisted fields of Outpost Korda.
The outpost clung to a cluster of shattered asteroids, connected by rickety bridges and pulsing neon platforms.
A half-forgotten relic of empire wars —
now home to smugglers, refugees, bounty hunters, black-market tech dealers… and worse.
At its heart rose a single command tower:
half-collapsed, its banners faded by cosmic dust.
Officially, it was still under the jurisdiction of the Velvaran Republic —
a relatively neutral empire.
Unofficially?
It was lawless.
Perfect for a quiet bounty hunt.
Perfect for betrayal.
⸻
In the cockpit, Jaxen Rhane whistled low as he guided the Radiant into a docking tunnel.
"Gotta hand it to 'em," he muttered, fingers flying over the controls. "Ugliest piece of rock I've ever seen. Almost charming."
Behind him, Zaraya Starheart leaned over the co-pilot's seat, eyes wide with excitement.
"First rule of outposts like this," she said brightly.
"The uglier it is, the better the stories."
Kaelen Veylor stood silent behind them, arms crossed, wings curled inward like a living shadow.
He said nothing.
But he watched the scanners — watched the way too many ships orbited the outpost's gravity wells.
Something felt wrong already.
⸻
The Plan
"Doctor's name is Veyla Dran," Zaraya said, tapping the bounty marker into their holomap.
"Exobiologist. Worked for the Velvaran fleet. Went off-grid last year.
Apparently she knows something about our missing 'giant.'"
Jaxen chuckled under his breath.
"Giant, she says. Probably some overgrown junk trader with a big stick.*"
Zaraya grinned.
Kaelen remained silent, studying the approach vectors.
Finally, he spoke.
"No heavy weapons. No powers unless necessary.
We find the doctor. We leave clean."
"We try to leave clean," Zaraya corrected, winking.
⸻
Into the Hornet's Nest
The Red Radiant touched down on a broken landing pad with a shudder.
The crew disembarked into the swirling dust storms and flickering neon of Outpost Korda.
Vendors hawked cracked starship parts and illegal cybernetics.
Hunters and mercs leaned against the walls, armed to the teeth.
Graffiti in half a dozen dead languages marked the tunnels.
"Stay close, stay casual," Jaxen said, pulling his worn jacket tighter around his body.
"Casual's my middle name," Zaraya said.
Kaelen gave her a slow, skeptical look.
"Loud, maybe," he muttered.
⸻
The Black Circuit's Shadow
As they split up to gather information,
Jaxen felt it.
A prickling down his spine.
A chill under the skin, cybernetic or not.
Someone was watching.
In a dark corner of the marketplace, he spotted him:
• Heavy black trench coat.
• Glowing red ocular implants.
• A black-ink tattoo of a shattered circuit around his neck.
Black Circuit enforcer.
Worse:
Nexo Korr — one of the hunters the Black Circuit unleashed when they really wanted someone dragged back in chains.
Jaxen swore under his breath.
He slipped away from the main street, ducking behind a rusted vendor stall.
Nexo followed.
Jaxen turned a corner — and Nexo was there, blocking the way.
⸻
A Quiet Threat
"Hello, Runner," Nexo rasped, voice full of static malice.
"Long way from home."
Jaxen forced a lazy grin, hands raised.
"Hey, Nexo. You're looking… crusty.
Still smell like fried servos, or you switch deodorant?"
Nexo didn't laugh.
"High Matron Vessk wants her asset back.
Whole fleet's itching to carve you up, Jaxen."
"Tell her to get in line," Jaxen snapped.
Nexo leaned in closer, his breath like cold metal.
"Run all you want, little flyer.
Every star you hide behind, we'll be there.
And now… your little crew?
They'll wear your debt too."
Jaxen's cocky smile faltered — just for a heartbeat.
Nexo saw it.
And smiled coldly.
⸻
Meanwhile
Kaelen and Zaraya regrouped near the landing bays.
Kaelen's eyes narrowed.
Something… off.
Jaxen was too slow returning.
His body language, when he reappeared, was too relaxed — forced.
"Find anything?" Zaraya asked brightly.
"Nah," Jaxen said, shrugging. "Dust, scams, bad coffee. Standard."
Kaelen studied him silently.
Zaraya tilted her head, sensing the tension —
but said nothing.
She just smiled.
"He'll tell us when he's ready," she thought.
She had learned long ago:
Trust wasn't demanded.
It was offered.
⸻
The Next Lead
"Doctor's holed up in the command tower," Jaxen said, changing the subject fast.
"Word is the admiral's been keeping her under 'protective custody.'"
"Protective, huh," Zaraya said, snorting.
"Yeah. Smells like cult work to me."
Kaelen nodded once.
"We move at nightfall."
"Nice and clean?" Zaraya teased.
Kaelen's violet gaze burned like twin stars.
"Clean as war ever is."
And high above them, buried in the corrupted towers of Outpost Korda,
the doctor who could change their future waited —
unknowing.
Unprotected.
Almost out of time.
⸻