The hangar doors groaned as Ryn's gunship settled onto its pad, heat shimmer trailing from its thrusters. Before he could even power down the systems, the comm-link flared with a sharp tone.
"Captain Ryn, report to Mor-Khalis Command immediately."
He exchanged a look with Ragnir, whose chrome hand flexed unconsciously, then cut the channel. "Duty never sleeps."
At the new base command center, Commander Thrys waited with a cluster of holo-panels projecting fleet rosters. His granite voice left little room for argument.
"Captain, you're assigned escort command. The new colonies are shipping rare ores, valuable enough to draw every raider from here to the Veil. The fleet is as follows: one escort frigate, The Crimson Ledger under Thalara Ashvyrne, three ore barges, one Vulture corvette, and a Buzzard fighter squadron. You will oversee the mission."
Ryn's jaw tightened, then he gave a single nod. "Understood."
A ripple moved across the holos as Thalara's profile appeared. The young rogue trader's crimson hair glinted even in static feed, eyes sharp with calculation. One cybernetic hand rested on the arm of her command chair, the other lifting a glass as though to toast the very danger Thrys outlined.
"Pleasure, Captain," she said with a smirk. "The Crimson Ledger sails better with company."
Ryn inclined his head slightly. "Then let's keep your cargo alive long enough to reach its buyer."
The fleet departed in a slow crawl through the void, barges heavy with ore, Buzzards weaving in restless arcs above them. Ryn's gunship flew at the vanguard, Ragnir manning the top turret while RE-001 and EP-Psi handled tactical overlays. For hours, the only sound was the hum of engines and the hollow ping of comm checks. Then the silence broke.
[EP-Psi]: "Contacts emerging from the drift. Vector three-eight. Raiders, six ships, light frigate class."
"Of course," Ryn muttered, fingers tightening on the throttle. He opened comms to the fleet. "Buzzards, intercept. Vulture, hold formation with the barges. Crimson Ledger, on me."
Thalara's laughter crackled back through the channel. "About time."
The void erupted in fire. Buzzards screamed forward, carving tight arcs as raider frigates spat plasma. Ryn's ship rolled hard, top turret roaring as Ragnir and Fenrir locked targets. RE-001 controlled the bottom guns, shredding a raider fighter that tried to slip under their formation.
The Crimson Ledger loomed beside them, its plasma cannon firing in heavy pulses that shook the stars. Thalara's voice cut across the channel, fierce and sharp. "Ore stays untouched, Captain, that's my ledger speaking."
"Then keep them close," Ryn snapped back, pitching his gunship under a plasma volley.
Minutes stretched like hours, but the pack held. Raiders peeled away, smoking wreckage scattering into the dark.
[EP-Psi]: "Raiders retreating. Skirmish concluded."
By the time the fleet reached the trading planet, the defense grid was already warming weapons. Dozens of orbital platforms shifted to face them, scanning beams cutting across the void.
"Unidentified fleet, state purpose of approach."
Ryn opened the channel, but Thalara was quicker. Her voice carried confidence, edged with the steel of someone who had done this dance before.
"This is Thalara Ashvyrne, Crimson Ledger. Cargo: rare ores from Kharvoss colonies. Escort includes Captain Ryn and his pack, Vulture corvette, Buzzard squadron. We are here for trade."
There was a pause, tension humming through every channel. Then the defense officer's reply came, clipped and formal. "Acknowledged, Crimson Ledger. Stand by for docking assignments."
The fleet eased forward, drifting into the planet's orbit, their shadows long against the void.
One of the older dwarves stepped forward, beard braided with copper rings, his eyes sharp as tempered steel. "Boy, with hands like yours, you're wasted on escort duty. Come work for the Forge Guild. We'll teach you secrets no military will ever give."
Ryn's lips curved in the faintest smile. "I'm currently employed."
"Bahhh." The dwarf spat to the side. "Escort duty, gunfights, scraping with raiders, blood and smoke. Being a craftsman suits you better. Build, don't burn."
Another dwarf grunted in agreement, pulling a heavy card of blackened steel from his belt. The emblem of the Forge Guild was etched deep, glowing faintly with runic light. He pressed it into Ryn's hand. "If you change your mind, you'll be welcomed at our halls. This is an invitation. Few outside the clans ever get one."
Ryn turned the card over between his fingers, studying it with quiet focus. Then he tucked it away into his coat. "How about this. In my free time, I'll craft something. One or two pieces. You give me the specs, and it will be delivered."
The dwarves blinked in surprise as he pulled a small slate from his coat and keyed in a short sequence, projecting a flicker of a comm signature. "That's my public domain address. Send it there."
The older dwarf let out a booming laugh, clapping Ryn on the shoulder hard enough to jostle him. "Hah! A commander, a fighter, and a smith. You're a strange one, boy. The void'll hear of you soon enough."
Ragnir watched, amused, arms folded. "They'll regret it if they underestimate him."
The dwarves exchanged grins, their earlier skepticism now tempered into respect. With muttered blessings in their native tongue, they dispersed back into the bustle of the docks, leaving Ryn and Ragnir alone once more before the looming bulk of the Crimson Ledger.
The defense grid cleared their convoy, the ore barges sliding into docking lanes one by one. Automated haulers latched on, guiding the massive containers toward the planet's station. Credits and manifests exchanged in the background, the ore deal sealed without incident.
On the bridge of the Crimson Ledger, Thalara leaned against the reinforced viewport, arms crossed, red hair glowing faintly under the control lights. Her sharp eyes shifted toward Ragnir, who stood at ease near the tactical console, his newly fitted limbs humming faintly with every subtle adjustment.
"Enjoying the new job?" she asked, her tone carrying the edge of old familiarity.
Ragnir's scarred lips tugged into a grin. "I love the perks. New AI, upgraded by Ryn. Cybernetics repaired and reforged by his hand. Hard to complain."
Thalara's smirk was wry, though something softer lingered behind it. "You've changed since the old days. You're not your uncle's shadow anymore."
Ragnir's eyes hardened, though his tone stayed even. "My uncle's debts died with him in that battle. I owed you once. Not anymore. The captain gave me a future I didn't expect. That's who I follow now."
Her gaze shifted briefly toward Ryn, who was occupied with the ore transfer tallies, sleeves rolled, already discussing flight schedules with a dock officer. She said nothing further, but her expression told volumes, a blend of recognition and calculation.
Ragnir flexed his cybernetic hand, violet threads of alloy glinting faintly. His grin widened. "Yes, Captain Ryn. Pack leader. That suits him well."
The cargo was secured. The trade concluded. And beyond the defense grid, the void waited for the next call.
With the ore safely unloaded and the defense grid cleared, Ryn turned to Thalara. "How are the tourist spots here? We'll need to stay at least three days, the cargo needs to be offloaded completely, and payment finalized. You've already received the downpayment. Full payment will be ready once we depart."
Thalara nodded, her sharp eyes softening slightly. "Understood. And my escort fee?"
Ryn's lips curved into a faint smile. "Already arranged. You'll get your agreed payment for the escort, plus your share of the shipment, as discussed with Commander Thrys."
Satisfied, Thalara allowed herself a small smirk. "Well done, Captain. You're thorough."
Ryn gestured toward the local starport district. "Shall we? Might as well enjoy a drink while the paperwork and haulers do their work."
The two of them made their way to a nearby bar, a rough-edged establishment that catered equally to traders, miners, and mercenaries. Smoke swirled under dim lights, and the scent of roasted protein and spiced ale hung in the air. They found a quiet corner near the viewport, the void and distant starfields stretching beyond.
Over drinks, the conversation shifted from trade to light banter and observations. Thalara's red hair glinted under the low lights as she leaned back, studying Ryn with a mixture of curiosity and respect.
"You've changed since the last time we met," she noted. "Still young, yet you move as if you've commanded fleets before."
Ryn chuckled softly, stirring his drink. "Experience comes fast when you don't have the luxury of time. And I've had good teachers, and excellent packmates."
Thalara raised an eyebrow. "Packmates? I assume you mean your, unusual crew?"
Ryn's grin widened, eyes glinting. "Yes. Really, we're just two," he said with a laugh.
Thalara's sharp gaze sharpened, curiosity piqued. "Just two? Are you planning to recruit more?"
Ryn leaned back, thoughtful but amused. "Perhaps someday. For now, we get the job done, and efficiency counts more than numbers."
As their conversation continued, Ryn silently queried his fully converged AI, EP-Psi.
[EP-Psi]: "Three potential syndicates located. Full profiles compiled with preliminary risk assessment complete."
Ryn's eyes flickered slightly with interest. "Good. Keep tracking, and we'll review them after shore leave."
For a moment, the noise of the bar faded, leaving only the hum of the starport beyond, the clink of glasses, and the quiet camaraderie forming between trader and captain. Deals, battles, cybernetic upgrades, and covert operations could wait for the night. Here, it was just conversation, observation, and the subtle strategy of knowing your allies, and knowing when to toast them.