Chapter 1: The Drift

The derelict was drifting in the black between star systems, too far from any trade route to be accidental and too intact to have been abandoned willingly. Captain Mira Vance killed the engines of the Wayfarer and stared at it through the viewport—a vessel of alien design, all sweeping curves and bioluminescent veins, bigger than a dreadnought and older than any civilization in the galactic registry. Her first officer, a four-armed Rigelian named Chekk, did the math. ‘That thing’s reactor signature is off the charts. Whatever’s powering it could light up a star system.’ Mira should have called it in. Should have let the Alliance deal with it. But salvage crews didn’t get paid for calling things in.