Three cycles later, the Stellar Wanderer emerged from hyperspace on the outskirts of the Krell system. Ahead, against the black vastness dotted with cold stars, floated Port Shadow. It wasn't an elegant orbital station like those of the Federation, with their spinning rings and bright lights. Port Shadow was a chaotic cluster of welded modules, makeshift docks, abandoned cargo containers, and structures salvaged from scrapped ships, all interconnected by a web of pressurized tunnels and walkways exposed to the vacuum. A faint, yellowish light emanated from some windows and portals, giving the station a sickly, sinister appearance.
"Home sweet home... or something like it," Kael muttered, guiding the Stellar Wanderer towards one of the less decrepit docking bays. The station's communications were a white noise of unencrypted transmissions, smuggler jargon, and advertisements for dubious services. No one cared about flight plans or formal identifications here.
After securing the docking and paying the exorbitant fee (in untraceable credits, of course) to a surly dock controller with a malfunctioning cybernetic eye, Kael prepared to disembark. He put on discreet civilian clothes, hid a compact blaster pistol under his coat, and transferred a limited amount of credits to an anonymous data chip. In Port Shadow, flaunting wealth or appearing naive was an invitation to disaster.
The station's interior was a labyrinth of dark, damp metal corridors, filled with an acrid smell of burnt oil, unidentified chemicals, and unwashed crowds. The air vibrated with the noise of heavy machinery, loud music spilling from clandestine bars, and the buzz of dozens of galactic languages and dialects. Hooded figures slunk through the shadows, information brokers whispered in dark corners, and mercenaries with vacant stares openly displayed their weapons. It was a place where the law was a suggestion, and survival depended on wits and a quick trigger finger.
Kael navigated the corridors with the uncomfortable familiarity of someone who had been there before. His first objective was to get information about the Nebula of Whispers. He headed to a place known as "The Data Pit," a smoky den on the station's lowest level where information brokers sold secrets for a price. The place was run by a burly, multi-armed being named Grok, known for his vast network of contacts and his (paid) discretion.
After a tense negotiation and the exchange of a considerable sum of credits, Grok provided Kael with some fragments: confirmations of the legends about the Nebula, reports of ships that entered and never returned, and rumors of strange energies affecting both ship systems and organic minds. No one seemed to have a reliable map or precise coordinates, only warnings to stay away.
With the information (or lack thereof) in hand, Kael turned to the task of acquiring supplies and parts. He needed enhanced navigational shields, a more sensitive long-range sensor module, and spare parts for the warp drive. This led him to the open markets and clandestine workshops scattered across the station's intermediate levels.
The negotiations were tough. Vendors tried to push faulty parts, inflate prices, or simply rob him. Kael used all his experience and cunning to get what he needed at prices that wouldn't leave him completely broke. While examining a set of second-hand shield emitters in a noisy, dimly lit workshop, a familiar voice sounded behind him.
"Kael? Kael, the Wanderer? I don't believe it. I thought you'd retired to raise space worms on some forgotten asteroid."
Kael turned. Leaning against a stack of crates, an ironic smile on her lips and fingers dancing over a modified datapad, was Lyra. Short, electric-blue dyed hair, piercing eyes that seemed to see through any facade, and a set of discreet cybernetic implants around her temples. Lyra was one of the best hackers and systems specialists Kael had ever known, a former partner from some less... legal jobs in his youth. They hadn't seen each other in years.
"Lyra," Kael replied, a faint smile appearing on his face. "Still causing trouble in other people's systems, I see. And no, no space worms for me. Just the same old grind."
"Same old grind?" Lyra raised an eyebrow, her eyes assessing Kael and the parts he was negotiating for. "Reinforced shields, long-range sensors... This doesn't look like your usual load of raw ore. Looks more like someone preparing for something... interesting. Or stupid."
Kael hesitated. Trusting someone in Port Shadow was risky, but Lyra, despite her chaotic nature, had always been loyal in her own twisted way. And he might need help.
"Let's just say I'm exploring new routes," Kael said evasively.
Lyra moved closer, lowering her voice. "New routes that just happened to bring you to the Data Pit asking about the Nebula of Whispers? Walls have ears and data has echoes around here, Kael. Whatever you've found, it sounds big. And dangerous. You've got that look again, the same one you had before that job on Cygnus X-1 that nearly got us killed."
Kael sighed, realizing he wouldn't fool her easily. Lyra had a knack for sniffing out trouble and secrets. "It's complicated, Lyra."
"Life usually is," she retorted with a shrug. "But if this complication brought you here, buying gear for a suicide trip to a place no one returns from, maybe you need someone who knows how to make the impossible work. And, as it happens, I'm between jobs right now." Her smile widened. "What do you say, Wanderer? Need an exceptionally talented and charming hacker co-pilot?"