Robert leaned back against the bulkhead, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied the holodisplay with a thoughtful frown. A dozen potential targets flashed and pulsed in front of him. Supply convoys, freighters, even a few military transports, each one a glimmering speck of possibility in the vast starfield.

  "All right, let's go over this again from the beginning," he said to himself, his eyes narrowing as he studied the data stream. "The mining ship is outside; not enough security to make it worth the risk of boarding."

  A few deft taps on the haptic interface - and the corresponding marker disappeared, replaced by a new set of coordinates and ship specifications.

  "What about this courier ship? Looks like it's running a milk route between the outer colonies. It could be carrying all kinds of juicy gear."

  Ace's soft tones filtered through the cramped cockpit, his luminous form casting an eerie azure glow over the instrument panels. "While the potential for valuable cargo is certainly there, I would caution against such a target. Couriers of this caliber travel well-armed trade routes; the risk of an armed escort is too high."

  A muscle twitched in Robert's jaw as he clenched his teeth in frustration. "Fantastic," he bit out, swiping at the display again with perhaps more force than was necessary. "So much for the easy pickings."

  Several long moments passed, the two of them falling into tense silence, the only sound the faint hum of the Acus'Rube's atmospheric cyclers as they struggled to compensate for yet another burned-out filter. Robert straightened, his features hardening into a mask of determination.

  "Okay, here's what we're going to do," he said, jabbing a finger at the display to highlight a series of flashing transponder signals. "See those cargo drones running between Cygna Station and the Falcis shipyards? They must be our best bet."

  Ace's lights pulsed with thought. "An automated freighter would certainly lack sentient security details," he said. "But are you sure such a utilitarian ship would carry the caliber of hardware we need?"

  A grin split Robert's face at that, his expression one of wild anticipation. "Are you kidding? Those transporters supply every shipyard, outpost, and mining colony along the entire Cygna Loop. Hell, they're swimming in the kind of high-end parts and equipment we need to get this bird spaceworthy again."

  With a swift movement, he leaned forward and started sorting the cargo routes, the analysis parameters speeding across his workstation in a whirlwind of data. "We need to find one carrying a shipment from the military depots on Cygna," he said, his tone taking on a focused intensity. "There are bound to be some nav computers or encrypted transponder packs hidden in the hold."

  His gaze shifted to the pulsating blue sphere of his synthetic partner, his eyes gleaming with the initial formation of their audacious scheme. "Can you cross-reference these flight plans with the latest Confederation supply manifests? Flag anything coming from a high-security depot?"

  Ace's lights flashed in a series of rapid pulses, the processing power no doubt churning through terabytes of data in the span of mere nanoseconds: all the publicly available information on transports that Ace could find.

  "We believe we have identified a viable target," he announced. "Cargo drone CSXD-229841 departed Falcis Secundus' primary military hub approximately 16 hours ago, carrying a shipment of what we suspect to be encrypted nav data and transponders bound for Cygna."

  Robert’s eyes narrowed to blazing points of amber intensity. He cracked his knuckles with grim relish and squared his shoulders, as if bracing himself for the fall.

  "Then I guess we better start plotting an intercept course," the first rush of adrenaline was humming through his veins. "Because it looks like our heist is in full swing."

  Robert couldn't help the mischievous grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched the flashing transponder signal. The cargo drone's projected course traced a lazy arc across the holographic starchart, passing close to the heart of the Confederation's vaunted Cygna Station. To steal such valuable cargo from under their noses… The sheer audacity of it all sent a delicious thrill through his veins.

  But the voice of caution, always Ace’s pragmatic timbre, whispered a warning at the back of his consciousness. One misstep, one errant transmission or misplaced sensor ping, and the entire Confederation security force would come crashing down on them like a meteor storm. “Risky” didn't even cover this gambit.

  Pushing aside his momentary trepidation, Robert turned his attention to the pulsing azure sphere hovering at his shoulder. "All right, let's get down to business. We've got our target, now we need a way onto that freighter without alerting every gun bunker from here to Eridas Drift."

  Ace's luminescence pulsed in a complex pattern, processing matrices flickering across his haptic interfaces. "A standard insertion would indeed prove problematic given the Confederation's typical security protocols," he said at length. "However, I may have a solution that will bypass such defenses entirely."

  With an almost conspiratorial air, the AI's form contracted, edges blurred, as a ghostly hologram materialized beside him - a swirling, indistinct cloud that shimmered with an inner luminosity. "These are Picobots," Ace's voice became professorial, his usual soft tones taking on a hushed resonance. "Self-replicating nanoscale machines capable of breaking down virtually any known material by sheer overwhelming numbers."

  Robert eyed the shimmering cloud with a mixture of intrigue and trepidation. He leaned back in his chair to put some distance between himself and the display. "You're telling me a swarm of techno termites can chew through the hull of a starship?" He asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice.

  "In a zero-atmosphere environment, yes," Ace confirmed with a curt nod. "The picobots require a hard vacuum to operate, but once deployed, they can infiltrate any ship or facility without artificial gravity or atmospheric shielding."

  Robert stared, his mind working to process the implications of such technology. He let out a low whistle and shook his head in a mixture of awe and disbelief.

  "I don't know whether to be impressed or horrified," he said to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. "No wonder the Confeds come down so hard on these little buggers; they're like the universe's worst can opener."

  Ace's lights pulsed in a confused pattern. "A rather apt analogy," he admitted. "Though I should note that their possession and use outside of authorized jurisdictions is strictly prohibited."

  Robert snorted at that, a wry grin tugging at his lips. "Well, we can add that to the list of Federation laws we'll be breaking on this joyride, can't we?" Leaning forward again, he jabbed a finger at the shimmering nanocloud, his eyes glittering with renewed determination. "All right, give me the rundown on how to operate this pico-whatever. If we're going to stick it to those self-righteous bureaucrats running the show, I want to make sure we do it with style."

  * * *

  The stars blurred into streaks of brilliance as Robert's battered freighter emerged from the final fold, the fabric of space-time snapping taut around them with a sickening lurch. He braced himself against the console. He waited for the dizziness to pass before straightening up, his jaw set in a grim line.

  "Well, we're about as far away from Cygna as we can get without falling off the galactic map entirely," he squinted at the glowing icons scattered across the navigational holograms. "Not exactly a stone's throw from their doorstep, but close enough to the shipping lane."

  The pulsating azure sphere of Ace responded in acknowledgement, lights flashing as it processed the new data. "Maintaining this distance should keep us well outside their long-range sensor coverage. I'll begin continuous monitoring of all transmissions, comms, navcomp pings, mission orders - anything that even hints at our destination."

  Robert nodded curtly, already turning his attention to the next critical task. "In that case, let's prepare for an extended over-watch. If we're going to be out here in the middle of nowhere, we'd better be ready to hunker down."

  The following weeks passed in a strange, almost trancelike state of constant vigilance. With their battered freighter engines on minimal life support, the days and nights blurred into a seamless cycle of fitful rest, rigorous exercise, and painstaking study. Every waking hour, Robert pored over the schematics and instruction matrices provided by Ace, drilling into the Picobots' operating and deployment protocols.

  At first, the idea of commanding an army of microscopic machines had seemed almost fanciful, like something out of the lurid sci-fi pulp serials he'd devoured as a child. But as the training scenarios grew in complexity, Robert found himself with a newfound appreciation and wariness for the sheer destructive potential of the Picobots.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The first time he'd unleashed the swarm in a vacuum-shielded compartment and watched in awe and horror as they chewed through solid duranium plating like piranhas through flesh, an icy shiver had run down his spine. No wonder the Confederation had banned such technology; in the wrong hands, picobots were a doomsday weapon, capable of dismantling starships and space stations from the inside out.

  And yet, the more he practiced, the more he found himself, almost. He empathized with the roiling nanocloud, coaxing and guiding its amorphous form through complex patterns and maneuvers. The Picobots responded to even the most subtle mental commands, their collective Gestalt intelligence blending with his own instincts and reflexes. Soon he was moving among them with an almost preternatural grace, bending them to his will like extensions of his own body.

  When he wasn't honing his skills with the picobots, Robert maintained a grueling regimen of physical training, pushing his body to its limits with combat drills and cardio runs in the freighter's makeshift gym. The mindless repetition helped focus his thoughts, softening the jagged edges of his impatience and allowing him to find a strange meditative clarity.

  All the while, Ace kept a constant silent vigil, his ethereal presence ever at Robert's side as he sifted through the reams of data streaming in from Cygna's communications networks. The wait was endless, the monotony broken only by fleeting glimpses of targets that turned out to be dead ends or false alarms.

  But neither of them wavered, driven by the same indomitable determination that had set them on this reckless course. They would see this heist through to the end, no matter how long it took or what stood in their way.

  Robert had made a vow, sealed with the ashes of his former life, and he would stop at nothing to keep it, even if it meant stealing from the heart of the enemy himself.

  Robert studied the hologram before him, his brow furrowed in concentration as he ran through the pre-launch checklist one last time. Every system was green, life support, thruster arrays, tactical sensors. He was as ready as he would ever be.

  "Picobots are go," he said under his breath, more to himself than to Ace. "All command uplinks are synchronized and responding normally."

  "Affirmative," the AI's resonant voice crackled in his earpiece. "We have full monitoring of your telemetry feeds. Proceeding with airlock cycle in three… two…"

  The heavy clang of the inner hatch slamming shut made Robert's stomach lurch, the dead silence of the vacuum chamber pressing in around him with a sudden, visceral weight. He forced himself to take a slow, steady breath, the harsh rasp of his respirator loud in the confines of his slim EVA suit.

  "OK, Ace, I'm going. Picobots deploying in five… four…"

  Robert sent the mental command through the neural uplink and felt the Picobots come to life like a roiling storm cloud gathering deep within his mind. Obedient to his will, they flowed forth in a dazzling swarm, shimmering motes of light coalescing around him in an ever-increasing cyclone.

  "Three.Two.One. Deploying now."

  The chamber disappeared in a glowing blur as the picobots enveloped him, countless microscopic drones merging into a single gestalt form that crackled with fierce, electric life. Robert's nerves sang in exhilarated unison with the swarm, his own consciousness merging with their collective intelligence as they burst out of the airlock in a blinding contrail.

  He hurtled out into the void, riding the Picobots' wake as they carried him like a leaf in a raging torrent. The inky blackness of open space flashed by in a dizzying kaleidoscope, pinpricks of starlight smeared in lurid streaks across his vision. Only the steady pounding of his heartbeat anchored him, keeping him grounded amid the sensory overload.

  "Looks good out there, Rob," Ace's voice crackled in his ear, the sound distorted by the interference of so many Picobots swarming between them. "Hang on, we shall run a quick diagnostic to make sure your neural sync is holding steady."

  Robert grunted, struggling to maintain his focus as the Picobots banked hard into an oblique trajectory that took them away from the dubious safety of the freighter's hull. Out here, they were exposed, easy pickings for any enemy ship with active sensors trained on them.

  But that was the point of these exercises. If he was going to pull off the heist on Cygna, he had to maneuver the Picobots with the utmost precision and stealth, hiding their energy signatures behind optical camouflage and masking their passage through the inky blackness. Ace forced him to push his control of the swarm to its limits and beyond.

  They ran through a dizzying array of evasive patterns and maneuvers, the Picobots swirling and spiraling in intricate dances of light that would have been mesmerizing were it not for the constant, nagging awareness that the wrong eyes might detect them. More than once, Robert held his breath, every nerve ending screaming in protest as Ace put him through his paces.

  Just when he thought he couldn't stand the strain any longer, the AI's voice crackled back over the comm, crisp and businesslike. "OK, Rob, that's it for this run. Let's pull you back in and reset for the next sequence."

  With a sigh of relief, Robert had the picobots reverse course, guiding them in a tight elliptical arc that brought them back to the freighter's yawning launch tube. The docking procedure was always the trickiest part, requiring him to condense the swarm into a compact, phased stream that could slip through the meter-wide airlock without incident.

  He never did it perfectly. More than once, a stray cluster of Picobots would bounce off the inner hatch with a brilliant flare, their fiery contrails burning afterimages into his retinas. But he got better with each attempt, his control of the nanoswarm becoming finer and more precise.

  As the outer hatch slammed shut behind him, repressurizing the chamber with a bone-rattling thud, Robert slumped against the inner airlock, sucking in deep, ragged breaths of recycled oxygen. His body shook from the sheer effort, nerves frayed and muscles screaming in protest. But he could feel a wild exhilaration coursing through him, his heart thundering with the electric thrill of having cheated death yet again.

  "Well?" he rasped into the comm pickup, already knowing Ace's answer but needing to hear it, anyway.

  "Negative on this run, we’re afraid." There was a hint of remorse in the AI's tone, but also an undercurrent of something that might have been approval. "You are improving exponentially with each iteration, but your particle scatter is still too high on the faster vectors. Any Confed sensor suite worth its salt would have lit you up like a solstice beacon out there."

  Robert cursed under his breath, raking sweat-soaked hair from his eyes as he removed his helmet, the foul stench of his own exertion making his nostrils flare. He knew Ace was right, damn it. As tempting as it was to rush headlong into the next phase of their plan, they couldn't afford even the slightest miscalculation. Not with so much riding on the success of this heist.

  "Understood," he said with a growl, stifling the spark of frustration that was licking at his insides. "Run it from the top then. As soon as I can get this suit cycled and my ass rehydrated."

  He could have sworn he detected the faintest hint of a chuckle ghosting across the commlink. "As you wish, our impatient friend. But perhaps we should consider a brief rest first? Even consummate professionals like us need a break now and then."

  Robert opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it and closed it with an audible click. As much as it hurt him to admit it, Ace was right. He was pushing himself to the ragged edge of his endurance out here, and it wouldn't do either of them any good to end up compromised, or worse, with the actual operation still weeks away.

  He leaned back and closed his eyes, concentrating on steadying his breathing and letting the cadence of his heartbeat slow to a more sustainable rhythm. When he spoke again, his voice was more measured, but no less determined.

  "Yeah. Yeah, okay. You're right. A break wouldn't be the worst idea." He opened one eye, his mouth twisting into a wry half-smile. "But a short one, you hear? Then it's back to work, my cybernetic friend. We have a raid to prepare for."

  The weeks that followed blurred into a hazy montage of endless training cycles, each more grueling and intense than the last. Robert lost count of how many times Ace threw him into the void, hurling him through difficult maneuvers and evasive patterns until his body screamed in protest.

  But he refused to falter, pushing himself harder and harder as their departure window approached. He was breathing the Picobots now. Their alien consciousness extended his own mind and reflexes. They moved as one, an ethereal dynamo of light and purpose, leaving blazing contrails of sheared energy in their wake.

  And with each simulated run, each agonizing near-miss and brutal failure, Robert could feel himself growing stronger, more focused, his control over the Picobots developing into an almost supernatural sixth sense. He no longer expected their movements; he commanded them with mere flickers of thought, bending their gestalt intelligence to his iron will.

  After an eternity of relentless drills and simulations, the word came from Cygna that their target had been identified. An armored Confed supply runner was headed for the civilian shipping lanes, packed to the gills with restricted parts and components. Including, if Ace's intel was correct, the high-yield transponder cores they needed to get past the station's formidable security perimeter undetected.

  Robert's hands were steady, his pulse pounding with a calm, electric clarity as he went through the final pre-launch checks one last time. This was it, the moment they'd been building towards for months, honing their skills and planning their every move with painstaking precision.

  This time it was for all the credits.

  He looked up as Ace's azure sphere pulsed to life beside him, the AI's presence solid and unwavering.

  "Are you ready for this, Rob?" There was an edge to Ace's tone, an undercurrent of what might have been… concern? Uncertainty?

  Robert gave him a grin, his eyes glittering with fierce determination. "I was born ready, Ace," he said with a snarl. "You know me, I go where the fun is."

  With a thought, he willed the picobots to life, feeling the nanoswarm surge to wakefulness in a blinding torrent. They whirled around him in a frenetic cyclone, awaiting his command like a pack of disciplined wolves straining at a leash.

  Robert lowered his faceplate and fixed his gaze on the flashing telemetry indicator that highlighted the projected course vector of their target. The icon flashed in a steady rhythm, its crimson hue seared into his retinas like a brand.

  This was it. Their one shot.

  He was more than ready.

  With a flick of his wrist, Robert launched himself into the void, the Picobots carrying him in a blazing contrail toward his destiny and whatever awaited them on the other side.