Chapter Text
The stench of death lingered in the air.
But it was faint, like a distant echo of violence long since passed, mixed with the acrid tang of metal, body odor, ship fuel, and rotting garbage. Any trace of this space station’s once-glorious past as a pristine United Colonies military base was smothered under layers of grime. I stood in the entryway: cramped, dark, littered with debris and graffiti, the Crimson Fleet's unmistakable claim to territory. This was their domain now.
To my right, angry voices clashed—two pirates locked in a heated argument over their share of a recent haul. I wanted nothing more than to retreat, to put as much distance as possible between me and the brewing chaos. A tall woman lounged on a crate nearby, her warm brown skin glowing in the reddish light, watching the scene with idle amusement.
I tried to tune out the argument, but the shouting escalated. A hard shove. Then another. It was only a matter of time before fists, or worse, started flying. My body tensed, instinctively scanning for cover. The moment bullets broke loose, I'd need to move fast.
The woman didn’t even acknowledge me as I approached, her attention fixed on the argument. Then, suddenly—a gunshot. I yelped, leaping aside as one of the pirates crumpled to the floor.
She shot to her feet, her entire demeanor shifting. She barked orders at the remaining pirate, commanding him to clean up the body like it was a minor inconvenience.
I recognized that voice. So this was Naeva. In that moment, she was more terrifying than every Terrormorph I’d ever faced. Her presence had intimidated me even through voice comms during my initiation, but here, in person, she exuded raw authority—commanding and unflinching. When her gaze locked onto me, I felt like she could see straight through me, piercing my fragile disguise.
This woman wouldn’t be fooled for long. What a ridiculous mission. How could SysDef have ever trusted me with this? I could fight off Terrormorphs, blow entire fleets of Spacers or Var’uun cultists to pieces, but this? Infiltrating the Crimson Fleet? Undercover? I was so far out of my depth, it felt like I was drowning.
Though, crime wasn’t unfamiliar to me. When I was a kid, I’d ran with a small street drug-running group of other kids for a couple years. But that was a joke compared to this. These were professionals. And that was so long ago that part of me was buried in the past, masked over by the following years as a dancer, then a UC soldier…and now? I didn’t know what I was. Starborn. Constellation was trying to help me figure it out, but anytime we found answers, it just led to more questions.
And already, I’d slipped up. Letting Austin Rake die during my initial test for the Fleet—that was on me. Not by my own hand, but because I’d convinced his crew he was a Fleet member, and they’d taken care of the rest. SysDef didn’t care about the details. All they saw was a death on my watch, and I was paying for it. Now, standing before Naeva, I knew deception wouldn’t last long. She’d see through me eventually. And when she did, I wouldn’t survive it.
“What the hell took you so long? Forget how to Grav Jump or something?”
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” I said, keeping my chin high. There was no use mincing words around her.
“Never apologize. Not if you want anyone in the Fleet to respect you. And if they don’t respect you, put a gun to their head and they’ll get the message.”
I tried not to flinch, steeling my gaze and giving the barest of nods. She continued.
“But all that aside, you made it, so now you get to hear a nifty history lesson. Pencils ready? Good.”
She explained the backstory of the Key – a former UC Military station, taken over by the Fleet. Not new information – Commander Ikande from SysDef had told me as much.
“So the Fleet took over this whole station?” I asked, keeping my face as neutral as I could muster.
“Sure did. Right out from under their noses. Way before you or I were born though. We’ve held this station for a very long time. Don’t worry. Delgado will tell you all about it.”
A knot formed in my stomach at the thought of meeting Delgado, the enigmatic leader of the Fleet. I’d only ever heard his name, but other than that, he was nothing more than a shadow.
“It’s better if I show you,” continued Naeva. “Follow me.”
I trailed after Naeva as she gave me the rundown of the station and its orbit over the planet Suvorov, which held the former supermax prison, the “Lock”. We rounded a corner and approached a large, closed door. A shorter woman stood to the left, messing with some controls.
“All right, all right, hang on, Nev. Before you get pissed, I’ve got my hands full,” said the woman.
Naeva introduced me to her as Jasmine, the Key’s engineer, then I followed Naeva through the Depot – some kind of black market - where a few roughened-looking shopkeepers sat around. Surprisingly, there was a medical clinic. Naeva made it clear it would cost me, but at least they had one.
We approached a large, circular computer bank with a chair set in the center. Reckoner’s Core was plastered in large white letters above the space.
“Another new rook, Naeva. I can’t believe Delgado still lets you recruit given what happened to the last one,” said a man by the name of Shinya who, well, I wish I could properly describe what I was seeing. He was a man, but with what looked like…a bomb planted in his chest. I swallowed, my throat going dry.
“Austin Rake has been taken care of,” snapped Naeva. “I don’t like loose ends, and this rook is the one who tied it off.”
Naeva explained that Shinya handled all the money and that he’d set me up in their system. I didn’t like being left alone with such a strange man, but I turned to him and reached out my hand.
“Pleased to meet you. I'm Alexis - prefer Lex,” I said.
“Yes, this is a bomb embedded in my chest,” he said, following my gaze. “I find this security measure to be quite empowering,” he replied. “I’m the prime target for information. For Delgado, the bomb plants a peace of mind and a degree of safety. I sleep soundly knowing I can piss him off and live. Should I die, all my knowledge, the accounts, the credits would disappear.”
“You probably don’t get out much,” I said flatly.
“It’s been five years. But anyway, let’s get you set up.”
Shinya laid back in a chair that appeared to hook directly into his body. He pressed a few buttons, his eyes flying over the computer screens faster than was humanly possible.
“There. You’re all set. Now all you need is Delgado’s blessing. Elevator down the hall,” he said, pointing.
“Thank you,” I nodded, and turned towards the hallway to the elevator.
I pressed the button, and as the doors shut, I let out a huge sigh, relaxing my shoulders, letting my façade drop for a moment. I was here, on the Key, in the Crimson Fleet, about to meet their leader. How had I gotten here so fast? If Naeva hadn’t seen through me, or Shinya, surely Delgado would. Someone had to know that I was not one of them, that I had no intentions of being one of them, that this wasn’t real. Or - they were already aware, and waiting for the right moment to strike – to kill me, torture me, do whatever it took to get information out of me, or just do it for sport. I wanted nothing more than to take the elevator back down, run down the hallway back to my ship, and grav jump as far as it would take me. 28 light years was the maximum for my ship, and I’d use them all, and never come back here again. I’d done one mission for UC, more out of obligation to my father than anything, and now here I was. Why had I agreed to this? I had done enough. SysDef didn’t need me. There were others more suited to the job. They’d probably looked into my file and saw my ancient past as a child drug runner, but I knew that wasn’t the only reason. My Starborn powers. They wanted to use me, hoard someone with these abilities for themselves. But here on the Key, no Starborn power could force people to believe my lies. Well – maybe. Maybe I hadn’t just discovered that one yet.
But then again…eliminating the Crimson Fleet would be beneficial. They’d tried to cross me more than my fair share of times, and I’d always won, but I knew others out there weren’t so fortunate.
The elevator ride was disappointingly short, and I rearranged my features to “toughened pirate”. I couldn’t look too eager, but also not get cocky about it. No one would take to any foolishness or arrogance here. There was a fine line to walk here – one between confidence and humility.
I stepped off the elevator and turned left. I saw a man with dark hair and a red scarf standing in front of a large array of computers and monitors conversing with Naeva. He turned to me as I approached.
The moment he turned to face me, the ground shifted beneath my feet. This man was breathtaking in a way that hit harder than I’d ever expected. He stood just a bit taller than me, his skin the warm color of sun-baked sand, his dark lashes framing sharp, calculating light brown eyes that seemed kinder than Naeva’s, but still held a no-nonsense edge.
He didn’t have to say a word to establish his authority—it radiated off him effortlessly, like a storm waiting to break. A jagged scar cut through his right eyebrow, but rather than detracting from his features, it added to the air of danger and strength he exuded. His lips, naturally full and resting in a subtle pout, sent my pulse racing in a way I hadn’t felt in years. The stubble lining his jaw only accentuated the sharp angles of his face.
The mission, SysDef’s orders—everything I’d prepared for disappeared as I stood there, completely frozen. My mind screamed at me to move, to speak, but all I could do was stare. Introduce myself? How did one even begin to greet the leader of the Crimson Fleet when he made me feel like a flustered teenager again?
“Ay dios mio,” he looked between me and the other recruit. “Is this all that made it through the latest initiation?”
Before I could stop myself, words came tumbling out of my mouth, faster than I could rein them in.
“No sabía que el líder del Crimson Fleet habla español,” I said. I didn’t know the leader of the Crimson Fleet spoke Spanish.
Delgado turned to face me fully, as if seeing me for the first time.
“Ah, Naeva no me dijo que tú hablas español,” said Delgado, his eyes briefly narrowing in amusement. Naeva hadn’t told him I spoke Spanish – but then again, I hadn’t mentioned it either. I had my father to thank for that. He taught me Spanish, French, Russian, and Japanese.
“Tú eres la primera novata que habla,” Delgado continued.
So I was the first rook to speak Spanish – this surprised me, seeing as how the Fleet was far-reaching and had innumerable members.
“Alright, are you two done? We have business to attend to,” Naeva cut in, her voice dripping with irritation. Her sneer spoke volumes, like I’d somehow kept this to myself out of spite.
“Yes we do,” Delgado said as he switched to English, dismissing the brief connection as if it had never happened. But to me? I couldn’t deny the ripple it sent through my defenses. I flexed my fingers, forcing myself to shove those feelings down.
This was the leader of the Crimson Fleet—charismatic, dangerous, and someone I should never get too close to. Sure, I’d caught his attention by speaking Spanish, but that’s all it would ever be. A fleeting moment. I had to remember why I was here. These people weren’t my allies. They weren’t my friends. I had to keep my distance, no matter how much my heart betrayed me in his presence.
Every one of them—Delgado included—was either going to die or be arrested when this was all over. There was no sense in letting anything more develop, no point in forming bonds. I was here to gather information, to take them down from the inside. I couldn’t afford to let myself forget that, no matter how impossible it felt to ignore him.
“Let me remind all you new recruits,” Delgado said, casting his eyes over myself and – the one other recruit, a man with an elaborate mustache and beard. “That you are here for life now. No one quits the Crimson Fleet. Fleet before friends, Fleet before family, Fleet before yourself. We are not a lawless band of tontos, our success comes from meticulous planning and following my orders to the letter.”
Someone from the control center behind Delgado stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto me.
"Hey," he said, pointing directly at me. "I know you!"
My heart skipped a beat, panic surging through me like a lightning bolt. No. No way. My cover couldn’t possibly be blown this early—not before I'd even had the chance to assess the situation. My hand instinctively twitched toward my gun, fingers brushing the cool metal at my side. I’d have to make a move—fast. Get out or take him down.
“I know you!” he repeated, louder this time, stepping closer. “You’re Luna Nox!”
My body went rigid, prepared for a fight, but then the words sank in. Luna Nox. My old stage name. He didn’t know me as Lex. He knew me from my time at the Astral Lounge. The job I’d picked up when the drug running wasn’t pulling in the credits I needed. The wave of relief that hit was immediate, but I kept my face carefully neutral, my hand still hovering near my gun just in case.
The pirate grinned. “Yeah! You were a dancer on Neon. Best damn one they had! The things you could do in the air…” His voice trailed off in awe, and I could feel a flush creeping up my neck.
Of all the times for this to come up. My days as Luna Nox felt like a lifetime ago, a life left behind when my father pulled me into his world. Dancing had been my escape, my freedom—until I had no choice but to give it up. No one had called me Luna Nox in years, and here, of all places, it had resurfaced. The Astral Lounge had always had dancers, but people complained about “the weirdos in alien suits”, so they’d fired all of them and hired “real” dancers.
“You’re… incredible!” he said, turning excitedly toward Delgado. “Del! Did you bring her in for a party? Are we having a dance party tonight?”
I tensed, my pulse pounding in my ears as Delgado slowly turned to me, his brow furrowing in confusion. His gaze flicked from the pirate to me, and I felt the weight of it—sharp, assessing, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. The look in his eyes unsettled me, and I suddenly wished I could disappear into the floor.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Delgado asked. “This is our newest recruit. What’s the meaning of this?” He turned to me, suspicion flickering behind his eyes.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “I used to be a dancer,” I admitted, my voice steady despite the nervous energy twisting inside me. “At the Astral Lounge. Back when I lived on Neon.”
For a second, no one spoke. Delgado blinked once, his expression unreadable. Then he waved a dismissive hand at the pirate. “Get back to your station. We’re not here for a damn party.”
“Can we get on with this?” grumbled the other recruit. “I want to get drunk at the Nova.”
“That is the first intelligent thing you’ve said today, Mathis,” said Delgado. “Pack your cold weather gear – you’re going to need it.”
“Not this,” groaned Naeva. “Please don’t tell me we’re going to Suvorov again. I thought you’d given up on that campfire story by now.”
“Kryx’s Legacy is no story, Naeva. We’ve got fresh eyes, and if these two want to impress, they’re going to help me search these ruins.”
Naeva’s voice took on a surprisingly concerned tone. I didn’t know she was capable of concern.
“I hope you’re right, Del,” she sighed. “That new code we grabbed for the Lock cost us a ton of credits and a decent captain.”
Delgado ignored her, turning back to Mathis and I. “This ‘initiation’ is your chance to see where it all began: On Suvorov with Jasper Kryx. He is the one that led the riots that gave birth to the Crimson Fleet. If his Legacy is still there, we will be the ones to find it.”
“What is the Legacy?” I asked Delgado.
“Before Kryx left the Fleet, he left a message about a major score. One so big, it would set up the Fleet to be a major player in the Settled Systems. Somewhere down the line everyone started to call it Kryx’s Legacy. Anyone that tried to find it has wound up empty handed, missing…or dead. If we’re going to beat those odds, we need a lead. And I wager we’ll find one on Suvorov.”
“Del’s leaving out the best part,” said Naeva. “This whole search is based off of a handful of words on a very old slate. Kryx left a lot of big talk on that recording, and not a lot of facts. Some of us believe in it more than others.”
Delgado sniffed. “Don’t listen to her. When we get our hands on that Legacy, the Fleet will be operating at a whole new level. We’ll outmatch SysDef by a long shot.”
“I don’t know,” I said carefully, doubt creeping in. “It sounds like you’ll just be a bigger target for SysDef.”
“You forget the UC is still licking its wounds from the Colony Wars,” Delgado replied quickly, as if he’d rehearsed this a thousand times. “They don’t have the capability to mount a full-scale assault. If we have Kryx’s Legacy, we’d have the manpower to push those pendejos right back to Jemison.”
Whatever this Legacy was, real or not, there was no way I could let it fall into the Fleet’s hands. So if anyone was going to try and find it – it had to be me.