The alarm blared for the fifth time, each cycle more irritating than the last. Jax Stellar groaned and pulled his jacket over his head, wondering if today was finally the day he'd dismantle DELPHI with a screwdriver. The ship's cabin spun slightly as he sat up, last night's discount synthetic whiskey still coursing through his system.

  "Good morning, Captain Stellar!" chirped the AI with infuriating enthusiasm. "It's 0700 hours, and according to my motivational database, early risers are 34% more likely to achieve their financial goals! Speaking of financial goals, you have received seventeen new debt collection notices while you slept."

  "Mute," Jax croaked, his mouth tasting like something had crawled in and died. The command did nothing.

  "I'm afraid the mute function is currently non-operational due to the power fluctuation from last week's asteroid field incident. Would you like me to add 'fix mute button' to your productivity checklist? Studies show that writing down tasks increases completion rates by—"

  "DELPHI, I swear to the void, I will donate your processing core to a children's toy factory." Jax stumbled to his feet, catching himself on the wall as the artificial gravity hiccupped. The Discount Otter wasn't just a secondhand ship—it was more like fifth-hand, passed down through a series of increasingly desperate owners.

  He made his way to the cockpit, dodging a hanging cable that sparked ominously. The dashboard lit up with a holographic message notification, the blue light pulsing against the grimy console.

  "You have one new priority message," DELPHI announced. "Shall I play it now or after your morning affirmations?"

  "Just play the damn message."

  The hologram flickered to life, revealing a figure in an expensive-looking suit with their face obscured by digital pixelation.

  "Pilot Stellar," the voice had been digitally altered to sound neither male nor female. "I require discreet transportation services for a small package. Destination: Proxima Research Station. Payment: double standard rate, half upon pickup. No questions asked. Coordinates attached. Respond within one hour if interested."

  The message ended, leaving Jax staring at the coordinates. Double rate meant he could make a significant dent in his debt to The Ion Fang. Their last message had been less than subtle: "Pay up or we'll sell your organs to cover the interest."

  "DELPHI, run a background check on the coordinates."

  "Running check now! While we wait, did you know that stretching immediately after waking increases blood flow by 15%? Perhaps you should try some morning yoga to—"

  The coffee dispenser on the wall suddenly sputtered to life, spraying lukewarm, stale coffee across Jax's already stained shirt.

  "Perfect. Just perfect." He wiped ineffectually at the brown splatter. "What's the verdict on those coordinates?"

  "The pickup location appears to be Loading Bay 7 at Ganymede Junction. A rather disreputable spaceport with 27 reported smuggling incidents this month alone! Would you like me to calculate the probability of this being an illegal transaction?"

  "No need." Jax sighed, already plotting the fastest route. "Set course for Ganymede. And try not to broadcast our destination to every patrol ship in the quadrant this time."

  ---

  Three hours later, Jax stood in the shadows of Loading Bay 7, a cavernous, poorly lit docking area that smelled of fuel and desperation. His contact was late, which was never a good sign in this business.

  Finally, a thin, nervous-looking man in a lab coat appeared, clutching a small metallic box to his chest. He jumped at every sound, his eyes darting around the bay.

  "Are you the pilot?" the scientist whispered, though there was nobody within earshot.

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  "No, I'm just hanging out in this dump for fun," Jax replied. "Yes, I'm the pilot. You're late."

  "Sorry, sorry. Had to be careful." The scientist thrust the box toward Jax. It was surprisingly heavy for its size, about as big as a standard data terminal. "Delivery to Proxima Research Station, Sub-level 3, Dr. Elara Voss. Very important you maintain room temperature. And whatever you do, don't shake it."

  "What's in the—"

  "No questions!" The scientist cut him off. "That was the agreement. Just... be careful. It's not dangerous, exactly, but it's... sensitive."

  A crash from the far end of the bay made the scientist jump. A squad of corporate security officers in blue uniforms appeared, scanning the area with handheld devices.

  "They found me," the scientist hissed. "Take it and go. Now!"

  Before Jax could respond, the man had disappeared into the shadows, leaving him holding the mysterious box as the security team moved methodically through the bay.

  "Fantastic," Jax muttered, tucking the box under his arm and backing toward the maintenance access tunnel. His boot caught on an uneven floor plate, sending him stumbling backward. The box slipped from his grasp, hitting the ground with a thud.

  A faint squeak came from inside.

  Jax froze. That didn't sound like machinery. He quickly scooped up the box, which now felt... different somehow. Warmer. Was it vibrating slightly?

  The security team shouted, having spotted him. Jax didn't wait around to chat. He sprinted through the maintenance tunnel, taking random turns until he was sure he'd lost them, then made his way back to the Discount Otter through the service corridors.

  ---

  "Welcome back, Captain!" DELPHI greeted as Jax sealed the airlock behind him. "I've prepared a 45-minute lecture on the importance of punctuality in business dealings!"

  "Not now." Jax placed the box carefully on the navigation console. "We need to get out of here. Fast."

  "Setting course for Proxima Station! Estimated travel time: 6.4 hours. Would you like me to play some motivational podcasts during our journey? I've downloaded 'Achieve Your Best Self Through Positive Thinking' and 'Debt-Free in 30 Days: A Financial Journey'!"

  "I'd rather be sucked out the airlock," Jax muttered, initiating the launch sequence. The Discount Otter shuddered to life, its engines protesting like an old man getting out of bed.

  As they cleared Ganymede's atmosphere, Jax finally had a moment to examine the box. It was sealed with some kind of biometric lock he had no chance of opening. The surface was cool to the touch, but he could swear something inside was moving.

  "DELPHI, scan this package. Tell me what we're dealing with."

  "Scanning now! Did you know that curiosity is a sign of an engaged mind? However, the package appears to be shielded against standard scans. I detect minimal heat signature, possible movement, and... oh! It appears to be emitting a very faint sound at 27 kilohertz, just beyond human hearing range."

  "Great. So we're transporting something alive." Jax ran a hand through his hair. "Any patrol ships in the area?"

  "All clear for now! Though our navigation system seems to be recalculating our route. We're now heading through the Ceres Asteroid Belt rather than around it. Would you like me to override?"

  "Yes! Override immediately!"

  "I'm afraid I cannot comply. The system is not responding to commands. How fascinating! This reminds me of a podcast about embracing unexpected challenges—"

  A sharp crack from the box cut off DELPHI's chatter. Jax looked down to see a small fracture forming in the metal surface.

  "That can't be good."

  The crack widened, and something that looked suspiciously like a claw poked through.

  "DELPHI, we have a situation."

  "Indeed! According to my databases, 93% of unknown cargo explosions happen within the first hour of transport! Isn't statistical analysis fascinating?"

  The box gave another crack, louder this time, and the top popped open. Jax jumped back, expecting the worst—a bomb, a biological weapon, or maybe just a regular old face-eating alien.

  Instead, a small, furry creature poked its head out. It looked like a hamster, if hamsters had six eyes and metallic blue fur. It chirped, looking directly at Jax with what he could only describe as judgment.

  "What the—"

  The creature leapt from the box with surprising agility, scurried across the console, and disappeared into an open maintenance panel.

  "DELPHI, what the hell was that?"

  "Analyzing visual data... It appears to be a Proxima Space Hamster, a genetically modified species created for nuclear waste disposal. They're highly intelligent, slightly radioactive, and classified as a controlled substance in seven systems! Possession without a permit carries a minimum sentence of five years in a radiation-proof prison cell."

  A proximity alert blared through the cabin. Jax looked at the scanner to see a patrol ship approaching.

  "Incoming transmission," DELPHI announced cheerfully. "It's the Galactic Patrol requesting permission to board for a 'random inspection.' What a coincidence! Shall I prepare a welcome message with our ship manifest?"

  Jax slumped in his chair. "Tell them we're experiencing communication difficulties and need five minutes to fix our systems."

  "Certainly! Though I should mention that lying to patrol officers increases the standard fine by 150%."

  As DELPHI transmitted the message, Jax frantically searched for the escaped hamster. He could hear it scuttling through the ship's ventilation system.

  "Attention unregistered cargo vessel," a stern voice came through the comms. "Prepare to be boarded. Any resistance will be met with force."

  The day had started badly and was getting worse by the minute. Just another delivery gone wrong in the life of the universe's most unlucky pilot.