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I triple-checked the manual override on the airlock before I pressed my thumb to the scanner. The Starfall’s entry hatch slid open with a hiss, welcoming me home.

“Don’t touch anything,” I warned, not looking back at the Vinduthi enforcer following me.

My boots hit the familiar metal grating of the entry corridor, and for just a second, I closed my eyes.

Familiar smells washed over me—recycled air with undertones of engine oil, the faint metallic tang of the cooling system, and the lingering scent of the Balosian trish I’d brewed that morning. Home.

A moment’s peace before heavy footsteps destroyed it.

Korvan ducked through the hatch, his broad shoulders nearly scraping both sides of my ship’s narrow entry corridor. His presence immediately filled the space, making my modest freighter feel claustrophobic.

“Your ship is... compact,” he said, eyes scanning every detail.

“Not all of us need excess space to compensate for something,” I replied, brushing past him toward the cockpit.

He smiled, revealing sharp canines. “And not all of us feel the need to deflect with crude humor.”

I ignored that. “Cockpit’s this way. Try not to break anything on your way through.”

The Starfall wasn’t built for comfort or luxury.

She was a workhorse—modified, patched, and enhanced over years until barely anything original remained.

Her corridors were narrow, her quarters small, but her engines were top-grade and her cargo holds had a few special features that customs officials rarely discovered.

Korvan followed me, moving with unexpected grace for someone his size. His gray skin faded in the dim corridor, the orange markings on the left side of his face standing in stark contrast.

“This ship has seen better days,” he observed, running a hand along a patched section of wall.

“She’s seen worse, too.” I slapped his hand away. “And I told you not to touch anything.”

He withdrew his hand, but not before I noticed the calluses that covered his palm—a fighter’s hands, not just those of a crime boss.

“Your precious ship will survive my touch,” he said.

We reached the cockpit, and I dropped into the pilot’s seat, my fingers automatically running through the pre-flight sequence. The worn leather chair molded to my body, the only place in the universe that truly fit me.

Korvan stood behind me, still inspecting everything with those unnervingly attentive eyes. “Where’s my seat?”

I gestured to the co-pilot chair without looking up. “That heap of patched leather on your right.”

“It’s small.”

“You’re big. Life’s unfair that way.” I continued the startup sequence, taking perverse pleasure in every beep and whir that felt like home to me and probably meant nothing to him. “Buckle in or don’t. Your funeral if we hit turbulence.”

The co-pilot’s chair creaked in protest as Korvan lowered himself into it. I glanced over despite myself. He looked ridiculous—all long limbs and broad shoulders crammed into a seat designed for someone considerably smaller.

“Comfortable?” I asked.

“Exceedingly.”

“Good. Now shut up and let me fly.” I tapped the navigation console. “Where exactly are we going? You mentioned an abandoned mining outpost, but I need coordinates.”

Korvan pulled a data chip from his pocket and held it out. “Everything you need is on here. Coordinates, security codes, detailed mission parameters.”

I hesitated before taking it, my fingers carefully avoiding contact with his. “Let me guess. If I try to access anything else on this chip, it’ll fry my systems?”

“You think I’d give you a chip with more info than you need to know?” He leaned back, somehow managing to look at ease despite being folded into the too-small chair. “You’re not the first smuggler to work for us, Iria. We have protocols.”

I inserted the chip and scanned the data as it populated my navigation screen. “The Kerillian Sector? That’s the ass-end of nowhere.”

“It’s the outskirts of Vinduthi territory. The mining outpost was abandoned after a territorial dispute.”

“Abandoned usually means stripped bare and worthless,” I said, programming the coordinates. “What exactly are we retrieving?”

“A container. Sealed. Government-grade. You don’t need to know what’s inside.”

“I always like to know what I’m hauling.”

The engines hummed to life beneath us, a sound so familiar it was practically part of my heartbeat.

“The last surprise cargo I transported tried to eat through the hull.”

“This one won’t eat through anything.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

Korvan’s expression hardened. “Research materials. Valuable ones. That’s all you need to know.”

I rolled my eyes and finished the pre-flight checks. “Fine. Your mysterious box better not blow us up.”

I guided the Starfall out of the docking bay and into the open space beyond Thodos Station. The ship responded to my touch like an extension of my body—each twitch of the controls translated perfectly into movement.

Korvan watched me fly, the tension making the back of my neck prickle. I didn’t like being observed this closely.

“What?” I finally snapped after several minutes of silence.

“You’re good,” he said simply.

“I know.”

“Most smugglers I’ve met talk about their skills. You actually have them.”

I shrugged, uncomfortable with whatever passed for a compliment from a Vinduthi crime lieutenant. “If I wasn’t good, I’d be dead. Space doesn’t forgive mediocrity.”

Once we cleared the station’s traffic zone, I engaged the FTL drive. The stars stretched into lines around us as the Starfall leapt into hyper speed.

“ETA is about six hours,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Try not to breathe down my neck the whole time.”

Korvan unbuckled himself from the co-pilot’s seat and stood, stretching to his full height. The top of his head nearly brushed the cockpit ceiling. “Show me the rest of your ship.”

It wasn’t a request.

I bit back the instinctive refusal that rose in my throat. One month, I reminded myself. One month of this, then freedom and a clean slate.

“Fine.” I engaged the autopilot and rose from my seat. “But if you even think about tampering with anything, I’ll jettison you into hyperspace. They say you stay conscious for almost a full minute before your blood boils.”

“Your concern is touching.”

The tour didn’t take long. The Starfall wasn’t exactly spacious. Main cockpit, small galley, even smaller common area, engine room, my quarters (door firmly closed with a “not part of the tour” dismissal), cargo hold, and the maintenance bay.

Korvan examined everything with critical eyes, asking pointed questions about modifications and upgrades. His interest felt invasive, like he was cataloging weaknesses.

“You’ve made significant alterations to the propulsion system,” he noted as we stood in the engine room. “Non-standard configuration.”

“Gives me better acceleration and a smaller energy signature,” I replied. “Harder to track.”

“And more prone to failure without proper maintenance.”

My head snapped up. “My ship is perfectly maintained.”

“Is that why there’s a fluctuation in the secondary cooling system?”

I blinked in surprise. “How did you?—”

“I can hear it.” He gestured toward one of the coolant tubes. “The rhythm is off.”

I stepped closer to the cooling unit and listened. Sure enough, there was a subtle irregularity I hadn’t noticed before—a slight hiccup in the usual steady hum.

“It’s minor,” I said defensively.

“Until it isn’t.” Korvan crossed his arms. “Then it’s catastrophic.”

“I know my ship.” I turned away from him, hating that he’d spotted a flaw I’d missed. “I’ll check it after we’re in stable hyperspace.”

We returned to the cockpit, where I slumped back into the pilot’s seat, deliberately ignoring him.

The familiar surroundings of my ship should have been comforting, but Korvan’s presence made everything feel foreign.

His scent—something both metallic and earthy—filled the small space, and I caught myself taking deeper breaths than necessary.

“So,” I said after the silence had stretched too long, “what’s on this mining outpost that’s so valuable to the Fangs?”

“I told you?—”

“Research materials, I know. But what kind? Weapons? Biotech? Ancient alien artifacts?” I swiveled my chair to face him. “If I’m risking my ship and my life, I deserve details.”

Korvan studied me for a long moment. “Medical research,” he finally said. “Experimental treatments developed before the outpost was abandoned. Worth a fortune to the right buyer.”

I snorted. “The Vinduthi crime syndicate, suddenly interested in healthcare?”

“We’re interested in profit,” he corrected. “And before you make assumptions, these treatments aren’t for creating bioweapons or addictive substances. They’re legitimate medical advances.”

“Right. And I’m the Empress of Centauri.” I focused on the controls. “Just tell me what to expect when we get there. Security systems? Wildlife? Rival scavengers?”

“The security systems should be dormant. We have the deactivation codes,” Korvan said. “As for wildlife, the planet has minimal indigenous species, none particularly dangerous. Rival scavengers are always a possibility, but the outpost’s location has kept most away.”

“That’s suspiciously straightforward for a job that required kidnapping a smuggler.”

“We didn’t kidnap you. We offered you a deal.”

“A deal where the alternative was death,” I pointed out.

Korvan leaned forward, his voice dropping lower. “There are always choices, Iria Jann. You could have chosen death. You didn’t.”

A chill ran down my spine at his matter-of-fact tone. “Most people prefer living.”

“Most people haven’t seen what I’ve seen,” he replied.

Before I could respond, a sharp alarm cut through the cockpit. Red lights flashed across my control panel.

“What’s happening?” Korvan demanded, instantly alert.

I scanned the readouts, my heart racing. “That cooling system issue you spotted? It just got a lot worse.”