The black market station appeared on their sensors twelve hours into the three-day journey.
It wasn't listed on any official star charts. No designation. No coordinates recorded in standard databases. Just a structure floating in the void between trade routes, hidden in the shadow of a dead moon.
The station was a massive ring, like Veridian Crossing, but older and darker. Sections of the hull were patchwork repairs of mismatched metals welded together. No uniform architecture. Every culture, every species that had passed through had left their mark.
Gorvax guided the ship toward a docking bay. No questions asked. No credentials checked. Just a docking fee transferred in untraceable cores.
The airlock cycled and they stepped into chaos.
