The office was dimly lit, the last rays of Kharvoss's twin suns slipping beneath jagged ridges. Ryn sat alone at a holotable, the glow of schematics and personnel profiles painting his features in pale light. Outside, the port hummed with activity, oblivious to the deadly plans taking shape inside.
The surface of the holotable shifted, bringing up dossiers of mercenary guild operatives and covert specialists. Killers, saboteurs, infiltrators. Their resumes glared with violence: assassinations completed, security systems broken, syndicates betrayed. Ryn studied them in silence, his expression unreadable.
Mercs were sharp tools, but tools nonetheless. They broke easily, or turned when paid more. Covert guild operatives offered cleaner precision, but the same flaw remained: no loyalty, no permanence. He could hire them for the mission, but tomorrow they might be in another's employ.
Ryn leaned back, eyes narrowing. This wasn't just about one strike. He wasn't assembling a temporary crew. He was building something greater. Something lasting.
Ragnir stood beside him, arms crossed, cybernetic frame casting faint whirs as his augments adjusted to his stance. His loyalty was unquestioned, his strength proven in battle after battle. This was their first true covert operation together, and already Ryn felt the need to look further ahead, to expand the pack.
"You'll need numbers," Ragnir said, gaze fixed on the shifting holograms. "Some of these dossiers look solid."
"They're solid," Ryn agreed. With a flick of his fingers, he dismissed several candidates, watching them vanish into static. "But they're not mine. They don't fit."
Ragnir turned his head slightly, optics narrowing. "So what's your angle? You want mercs or guild ghosts?"
Neither.
With a decisive motion, Ryn swept away the entire roster. Dozens of names dissolved into nothing, leaving only two profiles hovering on the table's surface. Thalara Ashvyrne. And her second-in-command, the one they called the nanny.
"I want her," Ryn said, voice steady. "And her second."
Ragnir raised a brow, unfolding his arms. "Her nanny?"
"Yes." Ryn's tone carried no hesitation. "Not her whole crew. Just her and the one she trusts most. That's enough."
The room fell quiet, the hum of the holotable filling the space between them. Outside, neon began to flicker in the city below, sharp against the settling dark.
"She's a risk," Ragnir said at last. "Not Mor-Khalis. Not bound to you."
"Exactly." Ryn's eyes stayed fixed on the floating dossiers. "She doesn't follow because of orders or coin. She commands loyalty, earns it. That's what we need. Not just operatives, allies who stay when the pay runs dry. First you. Then her."
Ragnir studied him for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. "So you'd expand the pack."
Ryn allowed himself a faint smile. "That's the plan."
The decision settled in the air, heavier than any mercenary contract. This was the first step toward something larger than a mission. It was legacy, sharpened in the shadows.
He dismissed the dossiers, leaving only the starfield visible beyond the viewport. Each point of light seemed sharper now, like the galaxy itself acknowledged his choice. Soon, he would reach out to Thalara. Soon, she and her second would stand beside them.
The pack was forming. Piece by piece, shadow by shadow.
Ryn leaned back in the office chair, eyes fixed on the starfield. The hum of the FLT engines was comforting, but not enough. "This ship is fine for training and short-range ops," he said quietly. "For what's coming, we'll need something stealthier. Not tied to Mor-Khalis, untraceable."
Ragnir's augmented eyes flicked to him, the mechanical whir of optics adjusting in the dim light. "Black market?" he asked.
Ryn nodded, already pulling up encrypted comm channels. "We'll need someone who can move fast, deliver a vessel off grid. No paper trail, no Mor-Khalis serials. This one's strictly for covert operations."
Ragnir flexed his cybernetic hands, processing the logistics. "Specs?"
"Small crew capacity. High speed, maximum stealth, adaptable weapons mountings," Ryn said, scrolling through data. "We don't need luxury. We need survival, efficiency, discretion. And we'll pay in credits that can't be traced."
Ragnir's lips curved faintly. "Sounds like fun."
"Fun," Ryn said with a short grin, "but crucial. This ship will decide whether we live in silence or die making noise."
He tapped commands, letting EP-Psi sweep encrypted channels across the black market. One name surfaced: a dealer with a reputation for moving ships that never officially existed. Rendezvous coordinates locked to a derelict mining asteroid at the sector's edge, quiet, off grid, perfect.
Ryn brought up the vessel's specs on the holotable:
Class: Stealth Gunship
Crew: 2-4 (ideal for covert ops)
Speed: High sublight acceleration, short hyperspace jumps
Armament: Modular weapon mounts, EMP, silenced ordnance
Stealth Features: Radar-absorbent hull, minimal thermal signature, signal scramblers
Durability: Reinforced but light, built to evade, not slug it out
Disposability: Fully untraceable, could be abandoned or destroyed without ties to Mor-Khalis
Ryn leaned forward, sealing the encrypted deal. "The vessel will be ready for pickup. Small crew only. No markings. Fully disposable."
Ragnir smirked, optics catching faint light. "An old mining rock for a handoff. Classic. And that gunship, exactly what we need."
"Exactly," Ryn said. "Once it's ours, we vanish into the dark. That's how shadows move."
The stars stretched into streaks as the FLT surged forward, but inside the cabin, the choice had already been made. The pack was forming: Ryn, Ragnir, Thalara, and her second. A covert strike force sharpened in silence, hidden in plain sight.
And soon, the galaxy would feel their presence, not as mercs, not as ghosts, but as predators in the shadows.
Delivery
The asteroid hung like a jagged, forgotten relic against the backdrop of deep space. Ryn and Ragnir drifted nearby in the FLT, sensors sweeping the dark, cratered surface. They had arrived hours ahead of the scheduled delivery, moving slowly to avoid drawing attention. Silence filled the cabin, broken only by the soft hum of systems.
"I don't like waiting this long," Ragnir muttered, cybernetic eye scanning the shadows. "Could be a trap, could be anything."
Ryn's fingers danced across the interface, adjusting sensor parameters. "Patience. EP-Psi vetted the dealer. But we scan everything, always. Nothing gets past us unexamined."
Minutes stretched into an hour. Then, on the edge of a crater, a sleek shape descended from an automated drop pod. The stealth gunship settled onto the rocky surface with no human presence around. Fully automated, precisely delivered.
Ryn's eyes narrowed. "Let's scan it. All frequencies, all access points. I want to know if there's a single hidden bug, drone, or spy implant."
Ragnir moved alongside, augments softly whirring. "I'll check the weapons mounts and hull sensors. Thermal and electromagnetic sweep, just in case."
Every panel, joint, and crevice of the gunship was scanned. No traps, no AI implants, no hidden devices. The ship was clean. EP-Psi had promised discretion, now the proof was here.
"Looks clean," Ragnir said after a few tense minutes. "We're clear."
Ryn opened the cockpit, sliding into the pilot's seat with practiced precision. "I'll handle her first run. Ragnir, you take the gunship behind me. Keep an eye on any anomalies."
Ragnir nodded, settling into the rear cockpit. "Got it. Covering all angles."
Ryn's hands traced the control interface, running system diagnostics manually. Every panel responded. Every subroutine checked out. Still, his eyes scanned for anything unusual, hidden spy gadgets, compromised circuits, AI signatures. Nothing.
EP-Psi's voice chimed softly in the comms, encrypted and neutral. "All AI modules removed. Vessel is clean. Proceed as planned."
Ryn exhaled, tension easing slightly. "Perfect. Let's move."
With the stealth gunship ready, Ryn initiated the ascent, the ship gliding silently away from the asteroid. Ragnir followed in formation, gunship engines barely making a whisper in the void. The mission had officially entered its next phase: shadow, speed, and stealth, and for the first time, they had the tools to strike without a trace.
After leaving the delivery point, Ryn piloted the stealth gunship through silent corridors of space toward a recently discovered, off-grid asteroid base. Small and utilitarian, it had been long abandoned, a relic of early mining operations, now reclaimed by Mor-Khalis patrols.
"Commander Thrys approved the refurbish," Ryn said quietly to Ragnir, eyes scanning the base through the sensor feeds. "I requested it myself. This will be our staging point, off-grid, secure, and completely under our control."
They watched as maintenance drones and a small Mor-Khalis repair crew arrived, working efficiently to restore power, structural integrity, and communications scramblers. After several days, the base was fully operational. Once the crew left, leaving no trace of their presence, Ryn moved in.
He stood at the center of the main hall, the hum of the newly installed systems echoing faintly. The stealth gunship rested in a concealed hangar bay, ready for deployment at a moment's notice.
"This will be home for now," Ryn said, his tone calm but resolute. "We wait here. The team will arrive soon, and when they do, we'll be ready."
Ragnir flexed his augmented fingers, scanning the base's perimeter and internal systems. "Quiet. Efficient. No one will find us here."
Ryn allowed himself a brief nod, already turning back to the controls. The base was their sanctuary, their preparation ground, and the first step in a mission that would demand every ounce of skill, discretion, and precision they could muster. Here, in the shadows of the abandoned asteroid, the stage was set, the team would assemble, and the hunt for Tharvek Soryn would begin.