The Iron Relic streaked through the planet’s black abyss, a lightless chasm beneath the neon sprawl. Towering cliffs ofbreathined megastructures loomed, their broken cirNyxts glowing faintly like dying embers. The ship’s blue energy beam sliced the dark, engines snarling as Torvox twisted his rune-etched axe, its red code pulsing in sync with the craft. Nyx sat rigid, her neon-violet lines dim against the dashboard, purple hair plastered to her neck from the chase.

  A flicker pierced the void ahead—neon green, stuttering like a heartbeat. Torvox leaned forward, obsidian eyes narrowing. “There it is, lass. That’s the place. Been a spell since I last saw that bloody beacon. Means we’re still breathin’—for now.”

  Nyx glanced at it, silent, her glowing eyes tracking the light.

  Torvox banked the ship toward it, the Relic weaving past jagged outcrops. “Keep yer eyes on this one when we land,” he rumbled. “He’s a shifty little bugger—harmless, but shifty. Sensitive too, so don’t rattle him, or we’re proper fucked.” He yanked the axe back, slowing their descent, and grunted as they approached a rock slab jutting from the cliffside. A hatch slid open, seamless and sudden, swallowing the Relic as it touched down.

  Inside, a cavernous lab buzzed—walls webbed with monitors, cables, and glowing equations scrawled in holographic light. Devices whirred, spitting sparks, while a security grid hummed, its sensors glinting red. A blur shot from the chaos—a tiny figure, one foot high, bounding with monkey-like grace. Four long, wiry limbs curled and sprang, serving as legs, while small boosters embedded in his back hissed blue, propelling him in rapid, flawless leaps across the lab. His bulbous eyes—wide and glassy—darted with wild energy as he scribbled quantum equations mid-air on a holo-pad.

  Torvox kicked the capsule open, stepping out with a grunt. “This is Nyx,” he said, nodding at her as she emerged, leather gleaming.

  Quin froze mid-leap, boosters puffing, then rocketed toward her. He skittered around her, limbs flexing, boosters humming as he inspected her neon-violet lines—still tinged with electric green from the drink. “Oh! Oh! Code! Living code! Reactive, adaptive—unstable, yes, yes!” His voice chirped high and fast, words tumbling over each other. He zipped closer, eyes whirring, then sprang to his monitors, claws clacking across keys as data streams blazed.

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  Torvox smirked at Nyx, tugging his beard. “That’s Quin. Told ye—shifty, but sharp.” He lumbered to a steel table, grabbing two dented mugs and a jug of amber ale from a battered cooler. “Now, let’s sip on some ale while we’ve a moment o’ peace. Ain’t nothin’ like it after a chase—warms the bones, steadies the steel.” He poured, sloshing foam, and slid a mug to Nyx.

  She took it, sitting across from him, her posture calm, almost still. The ale’s bitter tang hit her tongue, grounding her. She watched Quin leap between screens, liking him already—his relentless mind a spark she could use. Torvox leaned back, sipping deep, his axe propped beside him.

  “Better days, lass,” he growled, voice softening. “Afore the disaster chewed it all up. Planets had life—green, not ash. Ships flew for somethin’ worth a damn, not just scavengin’. I was spry then—well, less knackered. Had a crew, good souls, every one. Watched ‘em fade over centuries—time’s a cruel bastard, but it hardens ye. Teaches ye to hold tight to what’s worth it, swing at the rest.”

  Nyx sipped, eyes on him. “You’re still here.”

  “Aye,” he chuckled, warm and rough. “Too bullheaded to rot. Four hundred years o’ scars—tech or spite keepin’ me goin’, who knows? Strength’s in the wear, lass. And the heart—had that once, keeps me sane when the galaxy’s mad.” He glanced at Quin, then her. “Ye feel it, don’t ye? Somethin’ like home?”

  She didn’t answer, just drank, her silence carrying a faint ease. Something in his growl—the steady rumble of a man who’d faced hell and kept going—settled her. The ale’s warmth, Quin’s frantic buzz, the weight of Torvox’s years—they wove a thread she couldn’t name but didn’t push away. Her lines pulsed slow, steady.

  Torvox drained his mug, setting it down with a clank. “Get some rest, lass. Been a long day, and ye’ve earned it. Not a soul’d dare breach this place—Quin’s got it cloaked tighter’n a starship’s core, and these dark zones ain’t worth the trouble to find. If they even knew it existed, they’d still be dust afore they got close.”

  Nyx nodded, sipping once more, eyes on the flickering beacon beyond the hatch. Peace held here—she let it stay.