“Lumos, can you hear me?” Skinner asked as he walked back towards the docks, repair kits in tow. His earpiece fizzed for a moment before he heard the familiar voice of his companion in his helmet.

“Yes Captain. What do you need?”

“What do you know about Schunston?” he asked.

There was silence for a few seconds. He set down the repair kits, reaching up to adjust his communicator, but Lumos answered before he could. “My records indicate that the planet is sparsely populated – only small pockets of colonized areas exist, mostly in the Southern hemisphere. The planet is composed of a combination of carbon and silicon with an extremely oxygen-rich atmosphere. Despite this, the biosphere is not very diverse and appears to be in steep decline.”

“Any guesses why? Because I’ve got folks here telling me there’s ghosts on that planet and that it’s been abandoned,” Skinner said.

“Negative. Specters and apparitions lack scientific evidence to be proven real. The cause is likely due to some kind of ecosystem imbalance brought about by the colonization,” Lumos said. “Earth almost suffered a similar fate for quite some time due to pollution, misuse of natural resources, greenhouse gas emissions and overpopulation before the Gray Syndicate intervened.”

“Yeah, it’s in every history book,” Skinner said dryly. “But that took place over a century or more. I’m hearing this took place in twenty cycles. Is that possible?”

“One moment,” Lumos said, going dark while she ran the calculations. A moment later, she responded. “Based on the size and mass of the planet: no. Are you certain it was twenty years, Captain?”

“That’s what the old Heil said,” Skinner responded. “He used to trade ships with the inhabitants of Schunston until everything went haywire. Any ideas?”

Lumos made several odd noises in his ear before responding again. “There is a high possibility that it was simply raided by pirates or mercenaries. There is also potential, due to the mining operations, that natural gas leaks could have caused population deaths, or that the colonies were not equipped to handle local fauna or disease. While this does not explain the sharp decline in biosphere, it may explain the sudden end to trading.”

Skinner ascended the steps, mindful of where he stepped. The metal creaked and groaned beneath his boots. “Well, I’m open to any other ideas,” he said. “Can we confirm this Cutlep guy is still there?”

“Affirmative, Captain. Lead Researcher Cutlep’s identity tag is still logged as being planetside – in the Kavbar region,” Lumos said. A moment later, she spoke again. “Which is in the Northern hemisphere – near the Eidu mountain range.”

“Of course,” Skinner grumbled. “Just once I want this to be easy, you know? We find something cool; we poke an egghead until he tells us what it is, and then we sell it. That doesn’t sound so hard, but nooooooo… every time we try to—”

“Captain, DSI signatures detected,” Lumos said, cutting him off sharply. “4.51 astronomical units from the planet. Scans indicate they are the same ships that were scanning the Gesiak.”

“What?!” Skinner blurted, picking up his pace. “They followed us?”

“It would appear so, Captain. They are scanning several different moons and making their way towards Myhrede.”

“Why would they follow us here?” he asked, sprinting down the docking lane. “We don’t have anything worth the fuel!”

Lumos chirped in his ear. “Unless you count that artifact you located, Captain.”

“Beans!” Skinner spat, knocking on the airlock door. “Ok, we need to go. I have some repair kits we can use to repair the Dangerous, but I’m not going to worry about that right now. Do we have the fuel to take off for Schunston?”

“Affirmative, Captain,” Lumos said. “Be advised – Constellation ships are approaching Myhrede. Within scanning distance in—”

Everything around Skinner seemed to come alive with crackles of electricity. He yelled in pain as an electric current jolted through his gloves. The lights on the docking lanes all sparked and powered down. Emergency beacons attempted to activate but were met with a similar fate. “Lumos!” Skinner yelled, pounding on the airlock door. “Lumos, can you hear me?!”

There was no answer. He looked up into the sky and saw one of the enormous, Venan-class heavy cruisers piercing the atmosphere. His blood ran cold as he watched, swallowing thickly. It was huge, black and shaped like a crescent moon. It flew with both points facing behind it and he could see the blood-red markings painted on the hull. It was enormous – easily several kilometers in width. Reddish beams of light reached out and scanned the planet’s surface. It was searching for them.

The sudden burst of electricity had been a high-density electromagnetic pulse – the kind law enforcement used to shut down escaping convicts. His ship would survive for now, but he wouldn’t if they caught him here. He dropped the repair kits and grabbed hold of the manual release valve, cranking as hard as he could to release the locks on the door. “Lumos… this isn’t… the time… for a nap!” he growled, swearing triumphantly as the airlock doors disengaged and hissed to the side.

With the Venan-class above them, he wasn’t flying the Dangerous anywhere. If he took off, they’d just EMP him again – which would result in a fatal crash. He was going to have to get away on foot. He burst into the bridge, snatching up his helmet and jamming it on his head as he jumped over the control deck. He knelt down by one of the consoles, ripping off the front access panel and retrieving a small chip the size of a quarter. He slid it into an access port on the back of his helmet. “Lumos, can you hear me? Lumos!”

“Affirmative Captain,” the CI responded. If Skinner hadn’t known better, she sounded almost woozy. “I am online.”

“Whew… thought I lost you for a second,” he said as he turned back towards the entrance. “Is that bug-out bag still packed? We’re gonna need it. That Venan-class grounded us with an EMP.”

“I noticed,” Lumos said, sounding almost irritated or sarcastic. “Your emergency kit is still prepared. It is in the starboard airlock lockers where you left it.”

Skinner took off running. “What would I do without you?” he asked, picking up the artifact on the way. No way he was leaving it for these poachers. He’d found it first – fair and square.

“You have a 79.2% chance of perishing within the first sidereal period,” Lumos answered.

Skinner ripped open the locker and grabbed his bug-out bag. “Ouch, Lumos. That cuts me real deep,” he said as he slung it over his shoulder. “And I mean real deep.”

His bug-out bag had served him well over the years – making an emergency exit in some situations was always a good idea. The bag contained everything he’d need to survive for several weeks on the run, although he didn’t plan on spending that long. His goal was to loop away from the Dangerous until the Venan-class either scoped it out and left or tried their luck at a different port. Whatever the case, he wasn’t keen on tangling with Constellation forces.

“Lumos, are there any other settlements on Myhrede?” he asked. “Any that are close enough to reach on foot?”

“Calculating, Captain,” she answered. “Negative, Captain. Not that you could reach with the current provisions in your emergency kit.”

“Beans…” Skinner grumbled. “Ok, new plan. Can you update my visor with the best route out of this colony?”

Lumos lit up a pathway on his visor. “Yes, Captain,” she said. “This route provides the fastest way out of the colony.”

“You’re the best,” Skinner said as he exited the ship and began to follow the path she marked. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“Still stranded on Makusse with no knowledge of how to fly a Vidar-class,” Lumos said matter-of-factly.

Skinner wanted to be mad at her, but he couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I was hopeless,” he said. “I owe you for that.”

A whining noise from overhead drowned out any response Lumos had. Skinner looked skyward as he ran across the metal catwalks as two dropships raced through the sky above him, heading for Felicity’s northernmost exit. The exit Lumos was currently pointing him towards. “Are we rerouting?” he asked, one hand reaching for his pistol even as he kept running.

“No Captain. Keep on this course – it is still the fastest route.”

“Fast, yes, but we’re also charging straight into enemy territory. Their dropships are a minute or two away from bleeding soldiers into the area.” Screaming and yelling echoed around him as he kept running, drawing the pistol on reflex. The colonists were confused and scared, most of them trying to run away from the dropships.

Unlike the heavy cruisers above, the dropships weren’t Zesian in origin. Instead, they looked as if they’d been made by the Heil. They were oval and elongated with reptilian wings and bladed spines. Unlike other dropships, they didn’t normally have ranged weapons built in – the Heil didn’t believe in guns. These, however had been retrofitted with high-powered piercer units. Judging by the number of fuel lines connecting them to the ships, they had to pack a wallop. He was willing to wager they were capable of full disintegration. “Lumos!”

“Understood, Captain. Turn right at the next junction.” The lights on his visor changed direction. Instead of pointing him directly toward the landing zone they now banked sideways towards the eastern entrance. “Additionally, we could attempt to redirect the power plant into the metal walkways. This would significantly impede the progress of our attackers.”

“And kill us and the colonists if we so much as walk near them,” Skinner said. “That power plant is as old as my ship. There’s no telling what might cause it to overload. It’s too dangerous.”

“Affirmative, Captain. But by creating a situation too dangerous for your opponents, you can create a region of respite for yourself.”

“Or wipe myself out in the process,” he said. “The answer is no. We draw them away from the colony and then try to double back for the ship. Those Venan-class aren’t rated for atmosphere – they can’t stay there forever.”

“As you wish, Captain Skinner,” Lumos said, a faint hint of belligerence seeping into her tone. Or at least it seemed that way. Her personality chip was flawed from the beginning, or so he’d been told. There were plenty of times she demonstrated something akin to a real personality and plenty of others where she reminded him that she was just a collection of zeroes and ones. The curse of an aging chip, he supposed.

The walkway came to an abrupt end near a sewer pipe. He froze for a moment, looking at the grated entry. “You’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting…” he said, watching the guidelights on his visor point to the manual release valve. “…no… not this…”

“You have very few options, Captain,” Lumos said. “And as trite as this is, it has proven successful many times.”

“I’m not worried about it being trite, I’m worried about it being gross!” Skinner yelled into his helmet.

“Ground teams have been dispatched from the dropships,” Lumos warned him. “They have entered the colony and are searching it. You have approximately five minutes until they find you.”

“Ah beans… beans, beans, beans and MORE beans!” Skinner growled as he turned the manual release. The grated covering parted, revealing a four-foot drop into waist-deep muck. “I swear, this doodad better be worth the trouble!”

“You will not know until we make it to Schunston,” she reminded him. “Currently, this is the best way to survive long enough.”

Skinner jumped up onto the edge of the pipe and swung his legs into the opening. “Yeah yeah… I know. It’s not my first rodeo,” he muttered.

Two shots rang out, missing him by inches. One struck the wall above his head and the other struck the pipe a few inches from his glove. He hissed in surprise, turning and aiming his pistol down the catwalk. Two armored figures were sprinting towards him, rifles drawn. The armor was grayish black and adorned with orange patterns. The Ruby Phantoms – one of the four groups of mercenaries policing Constellation space. They weren’t the largest – that honor belonged to The Hope Thieves – but they were definitely one of the most aggressive.

Skinner returned fire, but wasn’t aiming for them. That armor was far too thick and unlike him, they had kinetic barriers. His shots wouldn’t do very much. Instead, he fired several rounds at the decaying metal beneath their feet. As expected, the metal buckled and gave way, dropping both mercenaries into the swampy water.

Immediately, the marsh came alive as hundreds of eel-like fish swarmed the unfortunate duo. They fired valiantly at the hordes for a moment before succumbing in a fountain of blood and screams. Skinner winced for a moment before jumping down the pipe without a backward glance. With things like that lurking in the waters, he definitely didn’t want to be here longer than he had to.

He braced himself during the descent, slowing his fall until he was lodged in the opening of the pipe just above the water below. “Lumos, there aren’t any space piranhas waiting for me down here, are there?”

“Local biosignatures do not indicate the presence of any predatory lifeforms apart from small, biting insects,” Lumos reported.

That was all the confirmation he needed to splash down into the ooze and muck. While it didn’t penetrate his polyform suit, he swore he could feel the damp warmth on his skin. It was like standing in tepid pudding. “Oh yuck,” he moaned. “This is worse than I imagined!”

“It is not worse than death,” Lumos said as she lit up a new set of guidelights. “If you follow this route, it should take you out of the colony and into the Gahnuk Moors.”

Skinner began to trudge slowly through the thick, slimy water. “I hope so. I don’t want to be stuck down here forever because of a shiny rock.”