Classical music floated through the cabin, some ancient Earth composer whose name I could never remember. The plush leather seat threatened to swallow me whole as I fought to keep my eyes open. Beside me, Finch drummed his jeweled fingers against the ornate control panel, his usual manic energy dulled by hours of waiting.

  The scout ship was tiny but obscenely luxurious; all polished wood panels and gold trim. Trust Finch to turn even a practical vessel into his personal museum. At least the dull exterior wouldn't draw attention.

  Through the viewport, the endless line of ships stretched before us. Merchant vessels, passenger liners, military transports, all crawling toward the massive form of the Bastion of Solitude. The station dominated the view, its angular silhouette casting long shadows across space. Around it, Union battlecruisers hung in perfect geometric patterns, their gun batteries tracking every approaching vessel.

  I pulled up the traffic feed, scanning the endless scroll of ship designations. The Star of Valencia, probably hauling rare metals from the outer colonies. Dawn's Promise, a passenger liner making its monthly run. The Hyperion's Fist, had to be military with a name that pretentious.

  "Found anything interesting?" Finch's voice had lost its usual sharp edge.

  "Nothing useful." I rubbed my eyes.

  A customs drone zipped past our viewport, its scanning beams sweeping the hull. Three ships ahead, a freighter was being directed to a secondary inspection station. The captain's protests crackled over the public channel before being cut off.

  "Six hours." Finch slumped deeper into his chair. "Six hours and we've moved maybe two kilometers."

  I checked the distance marker. "One point eight, actually."

  He shot me a look that could have melted steel.

  The music changed to something with lots of violins. Above us, the Bastion's defense platforms tracked our position with mathematical precision. One wrong move, one suspicious reading, and those guns would reduce us to atoms before we could blink.

  The holographic display updated again. Stellar Dawn, Crimson Vector, Emperor's Pride, Donkey's Head… Wait!

  I jolted forward in my seat, eyes fixed on that distinctive silhouette. The Donkey's Head hung in the traffic line like a sore thumb among the sleek military vessels and boxy freighters.

  "Did you see something interesting?" Finch asked, his tone flat with boredom.

  "In fact, I did." I couldn't help the smile spreading across my face. "See that ugly gray ship with the ear-like protrusions?"

  Finch squinted at the display. "The Donkey's Head? What kind of name is that?" His eyes narrowed as he studied the readings. "Those modifications aren't legal. Speed boosters, shield amplifiers... someone spent serious credits on that heap."

  "That would be my ex."

  Finch's head snapped toward me. "You're fifteen."

  "From the other timeline," I clarified. "That's Elias Crane's personal vessel. The one he gave me as a wedding gift." I grimaced at the memory. "His idea of a joke."

  "The xenobiologist?" Finch leaned closer to the display. "The one who's been all over the news lately?"

  "Right now he's just starting out. Thirty-eight, ambitious, and working his way through Terra's scientific circles." I pulled up the ship's registry data. "He always did know how to charm the right people."

  A mischievous thought struck me. "Hey Finch, want to see something fun?"

  He raised an eyebrow, some of his usual spark returning despite his worry about Avery.

  I activated the anonymous broadcast function and typed out a quick message. The response was immediate; Elias's voice exploded across all channels, each curse more creative than the last.

  Finch glanced down at my screen and read the message title: "The Sentient Sock Sings Again – The Full Elias Crane Special."

  "What did you do?" he asked, fighting back a smile.

  "When Elias was twelve, he starred in this ridiculous musical called The Sentient Sock." I leaned back, savoring the memory. "Picture this; future renowned xenobiologist Dr. Elias Crane, prancing around in a purple bodysuit covered in glitter, singing about the emotional journey of being separated from his sock mate in the wash."

  Finch's eyes widened. "You're making this up."

  "I wish. He was actually amazing at it too. The footage became legendary in certain circles." I tapped the screen where angry messages from Elias continued to flood the channels. "He tried to erase it all when he started his career, but nothing truly disappears from Union servers. And I have it."

  A new burst of profanity erupted across the comm system.

  "That's..." Finch started laughing, his whole body shaking. "That's delightfully cruel."

  "Consider it payback for everything he did to me before we started dating." I grinned as another stream of creative curses filled the air. "Besides, we needed something to pass the time."

  Through the viewport, I could see the Donkey's Head breaking formation, retreating from the inspection line at full speed.

  More curses crackled through the comm, then: "Where did this fat cat come from?" Elias's voice jumped an octave higher. "It just, where did it go?"

  "Meow."

  The sound came from directly above us. I looked up just in time to see Mylo materialize and drop onto Finch's shoulders like a sack of dark matter. Finch barely flinched, just reached up to scratch behind those pointed ears.

  "There's something extremely wrong with your cat, girl." He kept petting Mylo, who purred and stretched across his shoulders like a furry scarf.

  "Ignore it," I said, but I couldn't help smiling. After all this time, I was starting to understand Mylo better. He didn't just act like a cat, he embodied everything cat-like in the universe. The playfulness, the mischief, the tendency to get distracted by anything shiny or moving.

  Right now, he was fixated on Finch's dangling earrings, batting at them with one paw while maintaining perfect balance. His eyes gleamed with that familiar mix of feline focus and cosmic awareness.

  Through the comm, I could hear Elias still sputtering about vanishing cats and impossible physics.

  Oh Elias… If only you knew half of it.

  ******************************

  Space was big. Massive even. It stretched on, infinite and indifferent, a tapestry of stars threaded with dark voids. The ship's console flickered, displaying the route to our destination; seventeen jumps to navigate through the Union’s tangled web of trade routes were needed. Each jump required at least twenty minutes for recalibrations and safety checks. That left me plenty of time to add one more ace up my sleeve, though this one felt more like a prayer than a plan.

  “What are you doing with my emergency beacons, girl?” Finch’s voice cut through my concentration, laced with annoyance.

  I didn’t look up from the console, fingers tapping furiously as I uploaded a new message into another beacon. With a swift motion, I launched it into the vastness beyond the ship.

  Finch squinted at the flickering beacon as it drifted away. “You think that’ll help? You do realize how long it takes for those things to reach anyone?”

  I smiled but stayed quiet, letting him puzzle over it. The message I’d sent was like something out of a child’s nursery rhyme: Scaly and sunny, knee-high at most, gone in a blink, quiet as ghost…

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  He furrowed his brow as he read it over and over again. A spark of confusion danced in his pale violet eyes.

  “Is that supposed to mean something?” He huffed, but I could see the gears turning in his mind.

  To anyone else, it might have sounded whimsical; just another silly rhyme for kids singing on street corners. But for me, it held weight; it was a message for someone who might still remember me in this altered timeline.

  I bit my lip, pushing down that familiar knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. The sense that things were about to go wrong gnawed at me relentlessly.

  My gaze wandered back to Mylo sprawled across Finch's shoulders. He twitched one ear lazily but otherwise remained blissfully unaware of my thoughts.

  Ding.

  The ship's computer flickered to life, and I shook off the lethargy that clung to me. Twenty minutes of waiting felt more like an eternity, but now it was showtime. I straightened up in my seat, my heart thumping in time with the ship's soft hum.

  Wormhole jumping was a strange affair; anticlimactic in a way that defied explanationOne second, we gazed at the vast universe; the next, we were swallowed by a yawning void that stretched beyond comprehension. The nothingness pressed against my mind, dark and silent, threatening to consume me if I lingered too long.

  And then it happened. Light burst forth from the darkness as we emerged on the other side, surrounded by stars once more. I took a breath, squinting at the view through the viewport.

  The system lay before us like an abandoned playground. Below, a massive planet floated in shades of sickly yellow, a swirling mass of clouds thick with methane that twisted and danced like angry spirits. It radiated an aura of desolation; no one could possibly inhabit such a toxic wasteland. Even from our distance, I could sense its utter uselessness, a planet stripped of any worth.

  Orbiting the giant was a moon, larger than any I had ever seen. It resembled a small planet more than anything else, its surface mottled with colors ranging from deep browns to stark whites. As our scanners buzzed to life, they reported back with surprising news: an atmosphere clung to the moon’s surface; not breathable for humans long-term but sufficient for short bursts without suits.

  I adjusted the scanner settings and noticed something odd about this sector; subspace chatter practically vanished here, as if swallowed by an unseen predator. Should have expected it; pirates often used subspace scramblers to mask their communications. It wasn’t fancy tech but effective enough to make any attempts at contact garbled and meaningless.

  I took a moment to consider our options while tapping into my own communication array. A message flickered onto the screen: Got an offer, one worth more alive than dead. Standard fare when negotiating with pirates or mercenaries desperate for a quick score.

  Almost immediately, static crackled through the comms before resolving into clarity. A figure appeared on our holographic display, so generic it bordered on unremarkable. Brown hair flopped limply across his forehead, and his round face sported cheeks that could only be described as blandly chubby. He wore what looked like standard office attire, a drab grey suit complete with a tie patterned in unoffensive stripes that did nothing to enhance his presence.

  “Hello there!” His voice was chipper yet flat; the kind of tone you’d expect from an insurance salesman trying too hard not to sound boring.

  I fought back a smirk; if you didn't know better, you'd think he was just some random clerk plucked from obscurity, but I recognized him instantly as Vice-Chief Quinn of the Blue Owls. Greedy like a pig and far easier to deal with than their leader.

  "Let's talk business." I kept my voice neutral, matching his manufactured blandness. "We're looking for someone."

  "Aren't we all?" He chuckled, the sound as artificial as everything else about him. "But finding people costs money. Lots of it."

  Without a word, Finch's fingers danced across the console. Numbers flashed on the screen, enough credits to buy a small ship. The pirate's eyes widened slightly, his mask of mediocrity cracking for just a moment.

  "Now we're speaking the same language." His bland smile grew predatory. "Standard terms apply. Ten percent now, forty on confirmation, fifty on completion."

  More credits flowed. The pirate's expression shifted from interested to gleeful.

  "Excellent! Now, who exactly are we looking for?"

  Finch leaned forward. "Avery Marrow."

  Quinn's face went blank. "Who?"

  "Avery Marrow," Finch repeated, his voice steady despite the tension I could see in his shoulders.

  "Oh!" Quinn's expression shifted to mock surprise. "Finding specific people takes time... We've acquired quite a lot of 'cargo' recently." His bland smile turned predatory.

  Finch waved a bejeweled hand. "Take your time. We're not in a rush."

  Quinn's eyes lit up like he'd just won the galactic lottery. "While we wait, perhaps you'd be interested in some of our other merchandise? We have some lovely young ladies, strong workers, even a chef trained in Centaurian cuisine." He paused for dramatic effect. "And would you believe it; a minor noble from the Orion colonies."

  I kept my face carefully neutral, becoming part of the ship's décor. Inside, my stomach churned.

  "No interest." Finch's voice remained level, but I caught the slight tightening around his eyes.

  Quinn tapped his console, frowning at whatever he saw. "How about a modified cruiser then? Latest illegal tech, perfect for... discrete travel."

  Finch hesitated, and Quinn seized the opening. His hologram flickered as he reached for something off-screen. "Or perhaps these might interest you more?"

  The display filled with images of artifacts: ancient Earth tablets, pre-war art pieces, crystalline sculptures that seemed to glow from within.

  Finch leaned forward despite himself. "Is that a genuine Terra Prime meditation sphere?"

  Quinn's laugh oozed satisfaction. "I knew you were a man of taste! We should discuss future business opportunities once we conclude our current arrangement."

  "Perhaps." Finch's eyes remained fixed on the artifacts.

  The pirate's computer chirped weakly, and Quinn slammed his fist against it. "Stupid machine! Always slow when I need it most."

  The change was instant. The pirate's face froze, then darkened. He tapped something into his console, frowning.

  "Send an image."

  Finch frowned but transmitted the photo. I watched the pirate's face carefully, catching the micro-expression of recognition before it vanished behind his carefully constructed mask.

  "Deal's off." The transmission cut abruptly.

  "What?" Finch exploded from his chair. "What just happened?"

  I kept my eyes on the console, where Karen's infiltration protocols were already deep in the pirate network. "They don't have her."

  "What are you talking about?" Finch's eyes lost focus, his usual sharp gaze clouded with confusion and worry.

  I tapped the console, pulling up the data Karen had already extracted. "The Union doesn't negotiate with pirates. Ever. They shoot first, don't bother with questions later. Having someone like Avery, a Union asset, on your base? That's not just dangerous, it's suicide. If they knew what she is and captured her, she would be dead by now."

  "But the pirate—"

  "Recognized her, yes. But not as a prisoner." My fingers flew across the keyboard. "Karen, show me what you found."

  The screen flickered to life, displaying security footage marked with urgent red tags. The timestamp was scrubbed. The video quality was grainy, but clear enough to make out a figure in sleek black combat gear working at a computer terminal. Avery's movements were precise, professional; the kind of efficiency that came from years of covert operations.

  The footage showed her fingers dancing across the keys, her body partially concealed by shadows. Only the faint glow of her violet eyes gave away her position. The camera angle shifted, revealing more of the room; captain's quarters from the looks of it.

  Suddenly, Avery's head snapped around, her entire body tensing like a coiled spring. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the darkness with predatory focus. "How did you get here?" Her voice was cold, directed at something off-camera.

  The next few seconds exploded into chaos. Alarms screamed through the facility. Emergency lights strobed, painting the scene in harsh flashes of red. Security forces poured into the room, weapons drawn, but Avery was already moving. She flowed through their ranks like water through stones, her augmented reflexes making their movements seem sluggish and predictable.

  But the damage was done. The cameras had captured her face, logged her presence. Whatever mission she'd been on was now compromised.

  "She escaped," I said, pausing the footage. "But they know who she is now."

  Finch slumped in his chair, the weight of realization settling over him. "So where is she?"

  "That's the question, isn't it?" I studied the frozen image of Avery's face, those violet eyes blazing with controlled fury. "Karen, can you track where she accessed their systems from? What data she was trying to reach?"

  The AI's response was immediate, flooding the screen with encryption patterns and access logs. But there was nothing. They were looking for her, that is certain, but they didn't know where she was.

  "Karen, attempt to find her based on the implant," I ordered, fingers hovering over the controls.

  Karen's response flashed across the screen in stark red letters. "Unable to connect. Local interference detected."

  "Jammers," I muttered. "Of course they'd have jammers." I drummed my fingers against the console, mind racing. "But maybe..."

  My hands flew across the keyboard, repurposing the pirates' own sensor array. If we couldn't connect to the Union database directly, we could still track the unique signature of Avery's implant. The signal would be weak, distorted by the jammers, but it had to be there.

  The map of the pirate base expanded outward, scanning wider and wider. Nothing at first, then…

  "There!" A tiny blip appeared on the screen, far from the main habitat. The map kept zooming out until the full scale became clear.

  "One hundred and twenty kilometers?" Finch leaned closer, squinting at the display. "And... three hundred meters underground?"

  The cave system sprawled across the screen like a spider's web, tunnels branching in every direction. Avery's signal pulsed steadily from deep within the network.

  "That complicates things," I said.

  Finch's face fell. "The patrols?"

  "Too many to dodge." I studied the sensor readings. "Even with Karen's help, we'd never make it through undetected."

  More data streamed in, revealing a massive cavity in the cave system. Two hundred meters across, almost perfectly spherical. My lips curved into a smile as an absolutely insane idea took shape.

  Finch took a step back. I could see his hair standing on end, like he could sense the madness brewing in my mind.

  "Do you trust me?" I asked.

  He nodded weakly, sweat beading on his forehead.

  "Karen, protocol thirty-seven."

  "Acknowledged."

  The ship's drive hummed to life. Warning lights flashed across every console as the wormhole began to form.

  "What are you doing?" Finch's voice cracked with panic. "The alarms…"

  "Just hold on!" The smile wouldn't leave my face as darkness swallowed us whole. Instead of emerging into star-filled space, we materialized inside the cavity. Massive stalactites filled our view as the ship plowed through loose rock, sensors screaming in protest.

  "Hang on!" I shouted, grinning like a lunatic as we barreled deeper into the cave system.

  Sometimes, the craziest plans weren’t plans at all; they were just you, a countdown, and a very loud cat.