I had several big problems.

  First: get Rosalia to a medpod. Fast. The only one being on my ship.

  Second: were there more assassins?

  I scanned the pool deck, weapon raised. The assassin's body lay motionless where it had fallen, the cauterized wounds in his chest still faintly smoking. The infinity pool reflected stars, serene.

  Professional killers don’t work alone. Not when targeting royalty.

  My holobracer chimed. What now?

  I groaned internally, then looked at the display. Sensor readings from the Mahkkra indicated that the stealth ship had undocked from the yacht.

  I stared at the readout. The ship was gone. Either automated or the rest of the team cut their losses. Does it mean we’re safe? Or is it a trap? I pondered the question for an instant, then shook my head. Doesn’t matter. We need to be on the move anyway.

  I thought about it quickly and concluded it did not matter. I had to bring proper medical care and leave. Staying in this region of space was too dangerous. Too many uncertainties. Had the pirates communicated with anyone before I arrived? And whoever sent the assassin would soon know where to look.

  Okay, Nico. Think, plan, then act.

  First, get Rosalia to the Mahkkra and into the medical pod. That’s the most pressing. You can think about what to do next after.

  My eyes fell on the lounging chairs arranged around the pool deck. Unlike standard furniture, these hovered above the tiled deck, suspended by some kind of repulsor technology, providing perfect ergonomic support. They would make an ideal stretcher for transporting Rosalia.

  I went to the nearest one and examined it carefully, running my hands along its sleek surface until I finally found a small control panel recessed into one armrest. I tried to unlock it. The interface was unfamiliar. I did not recognize the icons.

  Come on. How hard can this be?

  I fumbled through the menus. Nothing. I pressed what looked like a release button.

  The chair loudly dropped to the ground then locked again.

  I swore. Tried again. A different sequence.

  The chair hummed. The positioning locks disengaged. It floated freely.

  Got it!

  I guided it toward where Rosalia lay.

  "I have to move you," I told her, kneeling beside her pale form. "I'm going to put you in that chair for transport to my ship. Brace yourself." I tried to sound confident and reassuring, but my voice betrayed my concern.

  She gave a slight nod, her jaw clenched in anticipation of the pain to come.

  I slipped one arm beneath her knees, the other around her shoulders. "On three," I said. "One... two..."

  I lifted.

  She screamed. A raw, primal sound that conveyed absolute pain. I winced.

  Oh God, I'm hurting her.

  My hands shook. I forced myself to keep moving. Careful Nico. Fast, but gentle. As soon as possible, I lowered her onto the floating chair. Every second felt like an eternity. Her scream cut off as I settled her into place, replaced by ragged, gasping breaths.

  "It's over," I said, voice tight. "Worst part's over."

  I adjusted the chair's contours to cradle her body securely, then touched her hand. Her skin was colder than I would have liked.

  "I'll bring you to my ship now. The medical pod will take care of everything." I tried to project a confidence I didn't entirely feel. The truth was, I had no idea if my ship's basic medical facilities would be sufficient for injuries this severe. But dwelling on that uncertainty wouldn't help either of us.

  She smiled back weakly, her eyes unfocused by the pain but still alert enough to communicate trust. That trust felt like both a gift and a terrible burden. I was all she had right now and the weight of that responsibility settled heavily on my shoulders.

  I moved quickly through the yacht's corridors. Careful not to run (too much noise), but walking fast. One hand guiding the floating chair, the other gripping my weapon.

  The Boimler Special, I thought, remembering an old episode of Lower Decks. Ensign Boimler, power-walking through corridors with frantic efficiency.

  Despite everything, I almost smiled.

  Then a shadow moved at the end of the corridor, and my weapon snapped up.

  Nothing. Just the play of light from the pool deck behind us.

  Get it together, Nico. Just a little further. The Mahkkra waited just ahead.

  Fortunately, no one attacked us during our transit. We made it to the docking port and boarded the Mahkkra without incident. The airlock cycled with agonizing slowness, each second feeling like an eternity as I watched Rosalia's breathing grow more labored. Finally, the inner door slid open, revealing the familiar confines of my ship's main deck.

  I brought Rosalia in. Finally, she's safe here. I trust the Mahkkra’s security.

  I wanted to go back to the Reizen and check if no other assassin had stayed or worse, had compromised the ship. I calmed myself. Getting her to the pod came first.

  That's when I encountered another problem. The chair wouldn’t fit the Mahkkra's narrow passageways. The pod was located in the subdeck, and while I could get the chair through the main corridor, there was a sharp turn in the access corridor that was simply too narrow for the luxurious lounge chair to navigate.

  Think. There has to be a way.

  Carry her manually? No. Too much risk of aggravating her injuries. Disassemble the chair? No time, and I'd probably break it.

  I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated.

  Come on, Nico. You've solved harder problems than this.

  I started a breathing exercise. Slow breath in. Slow breath out. I felt the air move across my palm.

  Down. Air moving down over my hand.

  Down.

  Gravity.

  I straightened. Of course. No gravity, no problem.

  I ran to the cockpit and slid into the pilot's chair. I accessed the environmental controls and shut down the artificial gravity system. The familiar sensation of weightlessness enveloped me. I pushed off from the console and propelled myself back toward where I'd left Rosalia.

  She was floating gently above her chair. When I entered her field of vision, her eyes snapped to mine and her panic transformed into relief.

  She thought I’d left her.

  “I’ here,” I said quickly. "Gravity is off. That’s all. I need it to get you to the medical pod without more pain."

  She nodded weakly, understanding dawning

  Her body nearly weightless, I easily transporter her without putting pressure on her wounds or forcing her body to bend in ways that would aggravate her injuries.

  "Thank you," she whispered, as I was guiding her body to the pod and positioning her inside as gently as possible. Once she was settled, the transparent cover sealed with a pneumatic hiss, and she closed her eyes, perhaps from exhaustion or perhaps in relief at finally receiving proper medical attention.

  I surveyed the diagnostics appearing on the console beside the pod. The readout painted a grim picture, far worse than I'd initially feared. Her left kidney had been bisected by the blade. Her renal artery was severed, and her pancreas and left bowel were described in medical terminology that essentially translated to "a mess." Her liver and spleen were also partially lacerated. Sepsis was beginning to set in throughout her abdominal cavity as bile leakage attacked tissues that weren't already damaged.

  The nanobots from the emergency kit were working to prevent further damage and stop the hemorrhaging rather than attempting to repair the extensive injuries. They were buying time, not healing.

  The Mahkkra's medical pod wasn't designed for treating severe trauma like this. It was built to handle minor injuries like broken bones, lacerations or mild concussions. The kind of mishaps a solo pilot might encounter during routine operations. For anything more serious, its primary function was essentially a sophisticated life-support system, designed to keep critically injured patients stable until they could reach proper medical facilities. It could prevent death, but complete healing of complex internal injuries was beyond its capabilities.

  Rosalia would live. The pod would ensure that. But she would not heal. And that did not account for more pirates or assassins.

  Most urgent problem solved. Now what to do? I thought about the next step. I needed to move quickly. But I had to be smart about it.

  Should I leave the Mahkkra or take it with me? I was not sure. If you’re too pressed for time to make a good plan, change the paradigm. Start with buying time.

  Yes. Good idea. I should move both ships somewhere else within the system.

  I was about to go to the Reizen, but stopped.

  Be more efficient, Nico. You need more intel on the pirates, take care of that first, then focus on both moving the Reizen and intel on the assassin.

  I went back to the cockpit of the Mahkkra. I had destroyed the pirates’ ships. But I could salvage important resources and valuable intelligence. They probably had black boxes. With navigation charts, the location of their base of operation. And comm logs. I would know if they broadcasted their position to anyone. Leaving without collecting it would be shortsighted.

  I initiated a sensor sweep of the expanding debris field, identifying several promising targets: containers of rare metals, salvageable ship parts that would fetch a good price on any market, and, most importantly, two relatively intact data storage units. The databases would need decryption, but they might contain information about who had sent the assassins and why. The ship parts are too big. I don’t have enough space and it would take too long. Let’s focus on the data storage units and rare metals.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Gathering it all took almost twenty minutes. Like most ships, the Mahkkra was equipped with basic loading drones that could be repurposed for salvage operations. I deployed them with practiced commands, directing their efforts toward the most valuable items first.

  By the end of the operation, I was a nervous wreck. Every few seconds, I checked the long-range scanners for signs of approaching vessels. My shoulders had knotted into painful tension, and I'd developed a persistent twitch in my right eye. The rational part of my brain knew that twenty minutes wasn't long enough for reinforcements to arrive from any nearby system, but the part that had just survived an encounter with an assassin wasn't listening to reason.

  Once the salvage was secured in my cargo hold, I made my way to the airlock and entered the Reizen. I moved through the ship slowly, weapon raised, holobracer in full scan mode. I cautiously made my way to the bridge. Every sound, every creak of the ship startled me. Every time, I froze, taking a defensive stance, ready to shoot at anything. But I encountered no resistance, nor did I find any boobytrap or bomb. I reached the bridge.

  I approached the captain's body. You have to move him. You can't just leave him there. I reached out. Hesitated. My hand hovered over his shoulder.

  He's dead. He's just... matter now. Biology. Not a person anymore.

  But he was a person. He fought to save this ship. To save Rosalia.

  I touched him. Cold. Stiff. The smell hit me: blood and something else, something wrong. Nausea rolled through me. I closed my eyes, breathed through my mouth, and carefully, gently, lowered him to the floor.

  When I stepped back, my hands were shaking.I found an emergency coffin in a storage locker. It was a small metallic cube with a red activation square. I placed it on the captain's chest. Pressed the button.

  The cube hummed. Lifted. The body rose with it, hovering, and then a force field shimmered into existence. Opaque, rectangular, sealing him away.

  There. Some dignity, at least.

  I stood for a moment, staring at the coffin. I wanted to offer a quick prayer, but I did not know any. I had never been religious, so I went with my guts. Whoever you were, I hope you find peace, wherever you are. And know you did not sacrifice yourself in vain. You protected your princess. I promise I will do my best to ensure she survives.

  I turned away, forcing myself to focus. Back to work. There’s still a lot to do. Focus. Process later.

  I avoided the chair he had been in. No need. On ships like this, any crew station of the bridge could call any system. I chose a random seat and touched it with Rosalia’s earring. It came to life. This time, more menus were available. I pulled up the menus, checked the ship’s status. I had access to everything.

  First, security.

  I checked the security feed. She had been right, no camera in the guest areas. But the access hatches were monitored. Good. I watched. One man entered, followed by drones. The hatch closed. The man vanished. Then nothing. No activity until the mysterious ship undocked. I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Reassured, I activated the external sensors. But the ship had left nothing on the hull.

  Relieved that I was truly alone, I configured the Reizen to connect to the Mahkkra and accept navigation orders from it.

  It took more time than I would have liked, but it needed to be done and I did not want to take shortcuts. You can’t take risks with space. It’s too dangerous.

  I raced to the Mahkkra’s cockpit. I wanted to move both ships to a nearby asteroid belt. A perfect hiding spot. But I needed to cover my tracks. I ordered the Reizen to fire its engines and start a trajectory in the direction of the outer regions of the star system. I followed with the Mahkkra, but only used the anchorfield thrusters for propulsion. Unlike the Quillon drive, or the Reizen’s plasma thrusters, those did not rely on ejecting matter for thrust, meaning they would not leave a trail that could be followed. After a few minutes, I stopped the Reizen’s propulsion and used the salvage drones to attach it to the Mahkkra, then headed to the asteroid belt.

  Eyes glued to the control screens, I smiled. Good luck finding me.

  As the distance increased between us and the site of the attack, I felt some of the tension drain from my body. We weren't safe yet, but at least we were moving, taking action rather than waiting for the next threat to find us.

  I glanced at the ship's internal monitoring system, checking on Rosalia in the medpod. Her vitals were stable, the nanobots continuing their work of repairing her extensive internal injuries. She appeared to be sleeping, her face peaceful despite the trauma her body had endured.

  Hold on, I thought. Just hold on. I'll figure this out.

  After an agonizing hour, both ships were safely hidden between several kilometer-wide blocks of ice and regolith. The asteroid belt would be a perfect cover until we were ready to properly depart the system. I exhaled in relief.

  I had bought some time. But I was still not sure what to do next.

  I needed to make a decision regarding the Reizen. Leave it or not? The yacht likely contained personal effects Rosalia would want to keep, not to mention important data or objects from her kingdom. As a royal, she probably had a stash of intelligence and precious things. I didn't have time to properly search the vessel now, and leaving it behind meant surrendering it to either more agents or simply pirates on the prowl. Neither option sat well with me.

  But with its cheatlight drive damaged in the attack, moving it wouldn't be simple. The Reizen was effectively crippled, limited to sublight speeds that would make us sitting ducks for any pursuers.

  I went to the Mahkkra's cockpit and activated both the navigation and engineering consoles, assessing my options. After skimming through the various system interfaces, pulling menus after menus, a memory surfaced from my days playing Life Among the Stars. There used to be a specific questline where we had to escort a damaged vessel. At one point, the NPC ship's FTL drive was disabled, and we had to complete a series of engineering mini-games to extend our cheatlight drive's warp bubble to encompass the escorted ship and drag it along with us.

  I wondered if this was actually possible in this world. Up until now, every game mechanic I remembered had turned out to be real physics in this universe. I queried the Mahkkra's VI. "Can I extend my cheatlight bubble to tow another ship?"

  QUERY PROCESSING...

  AFFIRMATIVE. EMERGENCY TOW PROTOCOL AVAILABLE. WARNING: PROCEDURE NOT RECOMMENDED FOR ROUTINE USE.

  I pulled up the technical documentation. The details were dense, involving field harmonics, power distribution curves, structural load calculations and other complicated computations. But the conclusion was clear enough:

  Yes, you can do it. No, it won't be pleasant.

  The ride would be "unstable with potential structural integrity concerns." Engineer-speak for "bumpy and probably unsafe." But no one would be aboard the Reizen during transit, so that was acceptable.

  The power requirements, though...

  I checked the specs. The quantum singularity reactor could handle it. Barely. As long as I didn't need to fight.

  Sometimes I forget how ridiculous some of my ship's specifications sound when I actually say them out loud, I smiled wrily. A quantum singularity reactor? A Trans-Dimensional Rift Beam? Those names sound so outlandish.

  No longer in immediate danger, I left the cockpit for a drink. And something to eat. The adrenaline crash will hit soon. I rummaged through the supplies until I found a packet of powdered tea (well, the actual name was "synthetic dried leaves infusion from Ruegel Culinaria") that tasted remarkably like Earl Grey. I noted the brand for future purchases and went back to my station in the cockpit, hot beverage in hand.

  The warmth of the cup was comforting against my palms as I settled back into the pilot's seat and began the long, focused task of reconfiguring and calibrating various ship systems for our unusual departure. Extending a cheatlight bubble to encompass another vessel wasn't a simple matter of flipping a switch. No, it required precise adjustments to the field generators, power distribution networks, and navigational systems.

  It took fifteen hours of grueling work to be ready. Fifteen hours of minute adjustments, system diagnostics, and simulations to ensure the extended bubble would remain stable during transit. My eyes burned from staring at holographic readouts, and my fingers ached.

  During that time, I spotted pirates twice. The first group was almost comical in their incompetence. It consisted of seven small ships, all cobbled together from salvaged parts, their hulls a patchwork of mismatched plating. They must have trusted their sensors a bit too much despite the obvious limitations of their jury-rigged equipment. They were broadcasting their unencrypted communications across an open channel for the entire system to hear, their conversations a mixture of crude jokes and amateurish chatter.

  I stopped mid-calibration when I detected them, my heart hammering in my chest as I powered down all non-essential systems and prayed nothing would betray our presence. They casually scanned the system, their sensor sweeps passing within kilometers of our position, then left without any indication they'd noticed the two ships hiding among the ice and rock.

  The second wave was more professional and therefore more concerning. They found the remains of our fight, methodically scanning the debris field and collecting samples. They first followed the trail left by the Reizen’s propulsion. But soon figured out it was a red herring. After that, they initiated a more thorough sweep of the system, their search pattern indicating proper military training rather than the haphazard approach of common pirates. But even they missed the Mahkkra and the Reizen, our position within the dense planetary ring providing sufficient cover against their sensors.

  Once they departed, I allowed myself to breathe again and returned to the calibration work. As I finished, I pulled up the star map to plot our escape route. The display showed our position and highlighted potential destinations based on our current fuel and supply levels.

  The results weren't encouraging. We couldn't make it to the closest imperial outpost using cheatlight. The distance was simply too great for our current fuel reserves. And hyperspace travel, while faster and more efficient, absolutely required a pilot on each ship.

  With those restrictions, I had only one viable option: make it back to Hyperion Deep. There, the medical facility had a much better pod to take care of Rosalia, and I had the needed spare parts to fix the Reizen's damaged FTL drive. I was half happy to get back to the station. I had come to love that place. But also half disappointed to come back so soon. I had barely visited three start systems. Focus on the good, Nico. A glass half-full attitude will carry you longer.

  Once all preparations were complete, I made both ships disengage from the ice ring with minimal thruster burns, careful not to create a visible disturbance that might attract attention. When we were clear of the immediate debris field, I initiated the cheatlight sequence.

  The trip back would take 9 days. I could not bring the Mahkkra to its maximum speed, because of the extended bubble.

  During my journey to this system , the cheatlight drive had produced a low, almost soothing hum. This time, the sound was higher-pitch and less consistent, occasionally producing discordant notes that set my teeth on edge. And the hull creaked. It reminded me of the soundtrack of an old pirate movie. But it was unnerving. Spaceships were not meant to bend and creak enough to produce such sounds.

  The first day was a frantic blur. I kept nervously checking the stability of the bubble. Every whine of the drive meant a discordant harmonic in the bubble. It had me bolting upright, eyes glued to the monitors. I watched the ship’s computer adjust the bubble to absorb the resonance, while I was ready to intervene, to manually re-calibrate. But the programming was sound and I never had to.

  Exhausted, I slept for one hour every few hours. The day turned into night shift, then to the second day.

  The constant high-pitched hum was making me on edge. I had deep dark circles under my eyes because of the lack of sleep. I regularly checked Rosalia’s pod. Everything was looking good, but I couldn’t help it.

  As we put more and more distance between us and the place where pirates ambushed the Reizen, I felt the tension ease.

  No one will follow us. We are safe. And the warp bubble holds.

  By day three, I managed to sleep more. Real sleep, this time.

  On day five, I woke up with a jolt, neck screaming in protest. The mess table. I fell asleep at the damn mess table. Drool on my hands. My back locked up. How long was I out?

  I lurched to the cockpit, half-expecting alarms. But the status board was green. All systems are nominal. Eight hours had passed. Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, and the ship had handled everything.

  I sagged into the pilot's chair. You need to trust the automation, Nico. You can't keep running on fumes.

  From that point on, I forced myself into proper sleep cycles. Six hours at a stretch. The ship could handle the rest.

  By day seven, I was starting to normalize the constant anxiety. I found myself paying less attention to the harmonic screams of the warp field, my mind growing numb to them. I even tried pulling up some of the data slates I'd salvaged from the pirates, thinking I could work on deciphering them. But I couldn't focus. My eyes would drift back to the drive stability readouts, to the long-range scanners, to the feed from Rosalia's pod. The "what ifs" were a constant hum beneath the drive's own unnerving whine.

  On day nine, Hyperion Deep’s system came within range of scanners. I checked the navigation charts I had downloaded from the Reizen. Uncharted. System Ahmet, as I christened it days ago. I smiled despite myself. An old friend from Earth. He stopped playing the game years ago, but I sometimes thought about him. He would have loved to be in my shoes. Exploring unmapped star systems, stumbling into royal intrigue.

  Sorry you’re not here for it, buddy.

  I was eager to dock to Hyperion Deep, but caution prevailed. I scanned the whole star system from its edge. Nothing looked out of place.

  Instead of flying directly to the station, I hopped from planet to asteroid belt to planet. Each time, running new scans.

  Finally satisfied that I was alone and no one was waiting in ambush, I headed for Hyprion Deep.

  I uncoupled the ships and guided the Mahkkra into the hangar bay. After so many hours in the flight simulator, I could do the sequence of maneuvers to the perfection with my eyes closed. It felt normal, comfortable. Safe

  The docking clamps engaged with a satisfying thunk. I sagged back in the pilot’s seat,allowing myself a moment of relief. We made it.

  Nine days of constant vigilance. Nine days of that damned hum. Nine days of checking Rosalia’s pod. Nine days of waiting for something to go wrong. But we made it.

  I was tired, my body ached from sleeping in my seat instead of a proper bed. I laughed. It was the joy of being alive, relief of finally being home. I laughed for several minutes, then stood on stiff legs. I checked Rosalia’s status one last time and made my way to the outside airlock. I needed to hide Reizen. It was too large to fit in the hangar bay, but I could dock it at the station. It would fit within the chameleon array.

  I wanted to bring Rosalia to the medical bay as soon as possible. But security first. She could wait a few more hours.

  I was not going to let panic put us in danger.

  She’s safe now. A few more hours of work and you can rest. Finally, you will be able to rest. In the most amazing bed of the world.

  Almost done, Nico. Almost done.