Chapter 1: Awakening the Fire

The derelict hung in the forward viewport like something the dark had half-swallowed. No running lights. No engine glow. Just the slow tumble of a hull catching starlight on its port side every forty seconds, the rest of it lost to black emptiness. A Kessler-class wasn't built for whatever had killed her crew. Kesslers were reliable, boring, the kind of ship that made its runs between settled worlds and never made the news. This one had made the news seven months ago — a two-line entry in the Frontier shipping registry, overdue at port, presumed lost — and then silence until the beacon decided, for reasons known only to failing circuitry, to start singing again. For anyone desperate enough to listen. "Cargo scan's finishing," Prime said from the copilot's station. "Got a number?" Sera asked. Prime's hands moved across the scanner interface with the unhurried precision of someone who already knew the answer and was confirming it for the room. Blue light traced the channels running along his forearms — a soft, steady warmth that meant calm processing, the baseline rhythm she'd learned to read the way other pilots read instrument panels. The scanner's return data painted itself across his console in scrolling columns. "Approximately two hundred and twelve thousand credits," he said. "Assuming standard market rates at Waypoint Delta." She sat back. The pilot's seat creaked — the left armrest had been loose for a month, one more thing on the list below the port engine coolant that had been leaking for three weeks and above the grinding sound during acceleration that she'd been pretending was normal. "That's a good haul." "It is an excellent haul." Prime turned from the console, the motion fluid and unhurried, blue eyes settling on her with a steadiness that meant he was about…