CHAPTER 6: THE SILENT PULSE

  The Aurora drifted into the nebula like a shark through deep water. Outside, the sapphire gases of the Vela Graveyard pressed against the hull, thick enough to muffle the ship’s internal hum.

  In the center of the fog sat Station 9-Omega.

  It wasn’t a station in the traditional sense. It looked like a ribcage made of white bone-glass, orbiting a dying dwarf star that bled a dull, sickly orange light. There were no lights on the station, no signs of life—just the rhythmic, violet strobe of a distress beacon firing from deep within its core.

  "My scanners are going haywire," Koda whispered, his face lit by the frantic scrolling of his data-pad. "The station is... it’s breathing, Jax. The atmospheric pressure inside is rising and falling every ten seconds."

  "It’s a 'Lung-Station,'" Barnaby explained, checking the charge on a small, hovering repair-drone. "They were used to scrub the impurities from the Fold. If it’s still breathing, it means the core is active. And if the core is active, it means the Logic-Bridge is likely sitting in the command pylon, waiting for someone to claim it. Or for someone to die trying."

  "I'll take the 'claim it' option," Vex said, slamming a fresh power-cell into her pulse-cutter. She looked at Jax. "You sure about this? You look like you’re still seeing double."

  Jax rubbed his wrist. The star-brand was cool now, but his mind felt "thin," as if the edges of his consciousness were fraying. "I'm fine, Vex. We need that bridge. I’m not losing any more memories to a Blink."

  The Aurora extended a docking umbilical, a translucent tube that latched onto the station’s jagged airlock like a parasite.

  As they stepped inside, the air was freezing. The walls were etched with Precursor script that glowed with a faint, dying luminescence. But as they moved deeper, the "Rust" of the galaxy appeared. Scratches on the walls. Spent shell casings from Corporate rifles. And finally, the bodies.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "Authority Enforcers," Vex knelt by a suit of white armor, now cracked and stained with dried, black fluid. "They didn't just die. Something... unraveled them."

  The Enforcer’s armor was intact, but the person inside was gone, replaced by a fine, grey powder that smelled like burnt ozone.

  "The Logic-Bleed," Barnaby said, his lens zooming in on the dust. "The station’s defense system isn't shooting bullets. It’s deleting the 'data' of anything biological that doesn't have a Sync-Mark."

  Suddenly, the station "breathed." A wave of violet light swept down the hallway, a physical wall of energy that shimmered like a heat haze.

  "Jax! Do something!" Koda yelled, shielding his eyes.

  Jax didn't think. He stepped in front of the group and raised his right hand. The star-brand flared. As the wave of violet light hit him, it didn't incinerate him—it parted. It flowed around Jax like water around a stone, shielding Vex and Koda in a small pocket of "Safety-Code."

  Jax screamed, his knees buckling. The raw data of the station was pouring into his mind—thousands of years of maintenance logs, temperature readings, and the final, terrified thoughts of the dying Enforcers.

  “ACCESS DENIED. COMMANDER PROFILE: INCOMPLETE,” the station’s voice boomed, deeper and more aggressive than the Aurora.

  "I... am... the... Commander!" Jax roared, forcing himself to stand. He slammed his glowing palm against the wall, injecting his own "Logic" into the station's grid.

  The violet wave vanished. The lights in the hallway stabilized into a steady, welcoming gold. The "breathing" stopped.

  "Jax?" Vex reached out, but hesitated.

  Jax turned around. His eyes weren't blue anymore. They were a solid, shimmering violet, and for a second, he looked at Vex as if he didn't recognize her. Then, he blinked, and the color receded, leaving him gasping for air.

  "I found it," Jax panted, pointing toward the end of the hall. "The command pylon. But we aren't alone. The station didn't kill all the Enforcers. Some of them... it reformatted."

  From the shadows ahead, three figures stepped out. They wore Corporate armor, but their limbs moved with a jerky, mechanical precision. Their faceplates had been replaced by glowing violet lenses, and their rifles were fused directly into their arm-sockets.

  "Logic-Hounds," Barnaby whispered, his copper legs extending for combat. "The ship's way of recycling garbage. Vex, I suggest you stop being 'Rust' and start being 'Effective.'"

  "With pleasure," Vex grinned, her pulse-cutter humming to life.