The vessel slowed to a stop, a feat difficult in space, but Zarina knew this ship well enough that she could feel each push of the thrusters. Her ship might have been small, but it gave her the maneuverability she needed for her work.

Ships had evolved to such a point that they were essentially a commodity, still an expensive one, but a business expense for most. For a Scavenger such as herself, someone who needed the utility of something as small and compact, the vessel was home. There wasn’t much in it, a small cockpit framed with hundreds of switches, most of which weren’t needed for most. The screen was the most important thing, yes, in space it was easier to just steer using sight through the thick—what she presumed was—glass. The screen hosted an image of her surroundings, taken from advanced submarines used on what was once the Earth before humanity had taken off into the stars in search of further ways to exude their wealth. The screen was mostly empty apart from small asteroids harbouring magnetic fields that showed up. She’d always check, just in case. In the rear, compartmentalized in her tiny living space, was a bed. In the day —whatever that meant anymore—it would be attached firmly to her wall, allowing the thick supports to be used as a table and chair. The toilet was in the back too, the pseudo-gravity generator strongest there—much to her relief.

The only window was the one she used to steer, but she hated the vastness beyond it when she tried to sleep, so, she installed a curtain between the cockpit and what she deemed her living quarters. She lived on pre-packaged meals; a kitchen wasn’t necessary anymore. She’d restock and refuel when she reached another capitalist part of whatever solar system she decided to explore next.

Work as a Scavenger wasn’t always the nicest, but it sure beat fighting in the inevitable wars. Those that happened to be resident on planets usually got forcefully drafted, she didn’t want that life.

She checked the radar again, nothing. She leant back hard on her chair. She let her legs release from the pedal and felt space take the vessel. There was a certain thrill in the unknowing of where it would take her. The oddness of gravity meant even an asteroid could take her off course. Then again, it was always interesting that she had no course. Most Scavengers spent time around previous war grounds, off-limits deep-space, orbits of once-colonized planets. Zarina was safer than that. The main resource she looked for was on by the name of lithium, it was a component used in batteries. With the advancement of new age technology re-purposing materials was the only way forward. With more ships needing batteries, lithium needed to be harvested. It was worth more than its weight in credits. The only thing worth more was tungsten, but that was hard to harvest, even with the laser cutter and compacter. The race was always against other Scavengers, spending too much time harvesting one material, even in the vastness of endless space was a risk.

There was static on the transmitter, that’s how she liked it. It was an automatic frequency checker, meaning that where there was static, no one else was around—at least no one with a transmitter active. It was the little things that helped her feel alone. Alone was how she felt most of the time, but after what was potentially weeks at a time of it, there was a comfort to it all.

She felt her body jolt sideways and immediately, she put her feet back onto the thrusters in response. From the impact she thought her ship had been hit by something. She checked the radar and tried to swing the ship around to see. The radar was blank. Nothing around her. The thrusters felt stiff, she twisted the other way and the vessel swung slowly back around. In the turn, she couldn’t tell which way was up, down, left, right. The vessel spun and the gravity of the ship started to fail, she could feel herself lifting. She buckled in, tightening the strap around her waist and gripped the steering system hard. Then, from below her, ascended a massive ship.

The ship was vast, larger than most freighters she’d dealt with on the intergalactic highways. It was shaped like a T, though, Zarina knew that was just the angle. She tried to angle the ship and drift lower to get a better look. Slowly, she could see the front. It was a carrier ship, perhaps. There was a lot of room in the boxlike parts each wing seemed to have. Like a large, rectangular prism with wings attached that each held thrusters. She steered closer, pushing her foot down to get the thrusters to bob her lightly forward. Mounted on the upper rims, she saw torpedoes—a battleship. The metal was quite dark too, dark enough that she’d barely seen the ship until she was close enough to practically orbit it. There were no lights anywhere, the thrusters were obviously off. It looked abandoned. A ghost ship.

Zarina had spent most of her time as a Scavenger learning the ins-and-outs of old ships, but she had no clue when it came down to battalion ships—schematics, blueprints, even basic information like freight load capacity weren’t documented well, or were documented too well and hidden. Her stomach was bubbling with excitement. She let her little vessel scan parts of the ship, material, density, hull capacity, and more importantly, heat signatures.

Interestingly, the results were void. No one was on board. The material was a basic composite reinforced with generic army metals. She made a note of the ship’s location, writing down each coordinate in her best handwriting—she didn’t trust information stored on computers. If this went well, this ship could keep her working for decades. Or, at least until some other scavenger found it.

For now, it was her secret.

Her experience helped her figure out the access points. A spacewalk was the best way in. She attached her ship to the other and put on her gear. Floating, she gripped the sides and let momentum take her toward a ladder she’d noticed on the sides of the ship. She climbed until she found the access hatch and attached herself to the ladder. Another moment later and she’d moved past the dematerializer and compacter in her bag and found what she called, the masterkey—a large clamp that could access pretty much any door given a good amount of time. She checked her oxygen levels—all good.

The hatch opened and she unclipped herself and descended into an airlock. It wasn’t functioning. She closed the hatch behind her and tried the large double doors illuminated by her head torch. They weren’t locked, and whatever residual power was left on the ship assisted with its opening, as well as lighting a path down a long stretch of corridors. She kept her headlight on, just in case.

The gravity was working, and the ship was responding to her movement, lighting each hallway she turned into. This wasn’t particularly unusual, ships did it to conserve power, if every light was always most companies would bankrupt themselves. Power was expensive—energy even more so.

She kept walking, the control room was her goal, there’d be a downloadable ship map there. It’d save her time and oxygen. Then again, if the ships lighting was functioning, what’s to say others weren’t. She checked the pressure on her watch and then, checking that there was in fact an oxygen level there, undid her helmet and turned off her oxygen supply.

She moved down another hallway, light flickered on. Another, the light flickered on and the one behind her shut off. There was a rhythm to it, a comfort. She quite liked this ship, it was spacious. Right now, she was toward the bottom, where most rooms looked to be living quarters. She let one of the doors open ahead of her and noticed that I was perfectly clean, empty. But on the lower bunk was a watch and a belt. Someone’s hat was on the top bunk, along with a cheap antique laptop.

She exited it and kept walking. Pushing out the thoughts that were coming to mind. She checked the oxygen pressure. It was normal. Where are the people? She tapped the watch to make sure it was working. She ascended a narrow staircase, the lack of much gravity making it easier. She kept looking at the oxygen as she did, in places like this it was easy for it to just cut out entirely. The lights were still flickering on and she walked right to the top, where she imagined the control room would be. Who would just abandon a ship like this? The stairwell door opened as she placed her hand on it and the lights beyond it turned on as she stepped through.

She walked for a few minutes, she read a sign saying Control Room A with an arrow pointing left. She turned the corner to see the lights were already on. The door to the control room laid just down the hall, lights also on. Zarina stood still, letting the light above her flicker off, she dared not move.

One by one, the lights ahead of her turned on, getting closer and closer.