“They always know something,” I reply, watching the mining platform grow larger through the viewport, its exterior scarred from years of industrial extraction and repurposed now into something more deliberate. “The question is whether they know enough.”
We dock without incident, the clamps locking into place with a solid mechanical thud that reverberates through the shuttle floor. The moment the hatch cycles open, the scent changes—industrial lubricant, stale air, and the faint electrical bite of overloaded processors hidden behind reinforced bulkheads.
“Split into two units,” I say quietly. “Data core first. Detain, don’t execute, unless necessary.”
Karel nods, gesturing for his team to move left while Rethan and I take the central corridor. The lighting inside the platform flickers faintly, an almost imperceptible fluctuation that tells me the internal power grid is working harder than it should.
“They’re moving data,” Rethan says under his breath, eyes scanning the corridor ahead.
“Yes,” I reply. “Which means we are not early.”
The first exchange of fire happens at the junction near the secondary lift. Two operatives in stripped-down armor step into view, weapons raised but not firing until they confirm our approach vector. They are disciplined, not frantic, and that alone tells me this is not a ragged cell acting in isolation.
“Drop it,” I call out, my voice cutting cleanly through the corridor.
They hesitate for half a second, and in that half-second Karel’s team flanks from the left, shock rounds striking with controlled force that sends one operative sprawling while the other attempts to pivot and retreat.
I close the distance in three strides and catch him before he clears the corner, wrenching the weapon from his grip and slamming him against the bulkhead hard enough to stun but notkill. His visor cracks, revealing the same Alliance underlay we saw in the outpost breach.
“You were told this would restore order,” I say quietly, holding him there.
He bares his teeth. “You destabilize it.”
“And you were told that too,” I reply.
Rethan cuffs him without ceremony, and we push forward.
The central data core chamber is louder than the rest of the platform, the hum of high-capacity processors vibrating through the floor plates. Rows of servers glow with active transfers, streams of data cascading toward outbound relays.
“They’re exfiltrating,” Karel says over comms from the adjacent corridor. “Volume spike detected.”
“Shut down outbound channels,” I order.
“Working,” he replies.
The loyalists make their final play there, in that chamber of humming machines and hot circuitry. Three of them emerge from behind server stacks, firing in coordinated arcs designed to pin us long enough for the data purge to complete.
“Left flank!” Rethan shouts.
I move before the second volley lands, sliding behind a reinforced column and then advancing in controlled bursts. I do not waste rounds. I do not chase them into blind angles. I close distance and force them into compression, where their formation becomes liability instead of strength.
One of them triggers a localized detonation near the central rack, likely hoping to destroy the hardware rather than let it fall into our hands. The blast ripples through the chamber, heat flaring against my face and the scent of scorched wiring filling the air.
“Protect the core!” I call out.
Karel’s team responds immediately, redirecting fire to neutralize the saboteur before he can trigger a secondary charge. The man drops, weapon clattering across the floor.
The remaining two attempt retreat toward a maintenance shaft, but Rethan intercepts one with a brutal efficiency that ends the fight in seconds, while I tackle the last before he reaches the shaft ladder. He fights hard, striking for my ribs, testing the old wound, but I absorb the impact and drive him face-first against the floor.
“It’s over,” I say into his ear as I secure his wrists. “You miscalculated.”
He laughs once, a sharp, bitter sound. “You think this is the end?”
“No,” I reply, hauling him upright. “I think it’s the end of this node.”
The chamber falls quiet except for the steady hum of processors and the ragged breathing of the captured operatives. Karel moves quickly to the central console, hands flying across the interface to isolate the outgoing transfer channels.
“Data purge incomplete,” he reports. “We intercepted seventy-three percent of outbound volume.”
