This is a standalone story set in the universe of Orbital Night. You don’t need to read any of the other stories to follow this one.
Welcome to the Mélusine, a heavily modified transport ship currently en route to a salvage operation in the outer reaches of the galaxy, an opportunity that might bring in some much-needed credits.
Technical notes, translations, and images at the end.
---
“Eight minutes to Real Space, Captain.”
Lucci’s voice snapped Veyrac back. He acknowledged her with a grunt but kept his gaze on the elongated stars around the Mélusine.
“Thinking about her?” She floated through the hatch, caught the rail, and pulled herself beside him, “We’ll get enough this time.”
“We always say that.” He gave her the smallest smile as he unlocked his magboots and pushed off the rail.
“D’accord. Inform the others.” Veyrac drifted through the hatch, caught a handhold, and pushed off again. “On y va.”
---
Belts clicked shut as the crew strapped in, but without the usual banter.
“Lucci,” Veyrac raised his voice just enough for everyone on the bridge to hear. “Remind me... Who’s the best pilot in The Known Systems? That one-eyed guy on Ganymede… or you?”
“Definitely me, Captain. Hold on, everyone. Dropping out in three… two… one…”
The Alcubierre corridor collapsed. Light streaks snapped back into points. The Mélusine shuddered hard as the hyperdrive module disengaged. Panels rattled, a relay popped somewhere behind them, and dozens of warning lights and system alarms sprang to life.
“How’s my ship, Lucci?”
“In one piece, Captain,” she yelled over the alarms, keeping her hands on the flight controls.
Veyrac turned toward navigation. “Ortega. Are we where we’re supposed to be?”
“Hard to say.” Ortega tapped the screen, eyes narrowed. “Gas giants are throwing noise all over the board. Computer’s checking the star charts.”
“Komarov,” Veyrac radioed, “Switch over to fusion reactors.”
Ortega leaned closer to his console, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Still interference… but I’m getting a ping from the System Buoy. Looks like we dropped right in its CTR space.”
“They can bill us,” Veyrac muttered. “Distance to the Buoy?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Good. Lucci, bring us into its docking pattern. Have the computer negotiate a recharge for the Alcubierre.”
As the fusion reactor spooled up, a low vibration ran through the hull. Veyrac unstrapped, floated aft, and caught a handhold by Komarov’s engineering station.
“Talk to me, Alexei.”
Komarov didn’t look up from the diagnostic screen. “This jump was punishing. Mélusine’s fine, but the Alcubierre is essentially toast. Three coils dead. Without those… Two more jumps, maybe three left in her. I don’t need to remind you that if it cuts out, we’ll be lucky if they even find our bodies; we could be floating forever.”
“You don’t have to, and yet you do,” Veyrac smirked. “Do your magic, Alexei.”
“Magic?” Komarov snorted. “We need new coils. Our client better come through. You checked his credit, right?”
Lucci’s voice crackled over the radio. “Captain, we’re in the pattern and ready for recharge if Alexei’s good.”
Veyrac looked at his engineer. “New coils or not. Can she recharge?”
Komarov sighed, then flipped the comms switch. “She’s good. Detach and recharge. You know the drill.”
A series of clanks moved through the hull.
“I’ll get you those coils as soon as I can, miracle man,” Veyrac said, pushing off and floating back toward the bridge.
Ortega’s voice came over the shipwide. “Freeman, you’re cleared to leave the passenger compartment.”
---
“About time,” Freeman’s voice trembled as he pushed out of the compartment with a bit too much force. He bumped straight into the handhold behind the captain’s chair and needed Veyrac to lock his magboots.
“Captain,” he said, all sugar, and held out a sealed packet. “Your assignment.”
Veyrac didn’t hide the sigh. He pulled a data disk from the packet and sent it drifting toward Ortega, who caught it one-handed and clicked it into the onboard computer. The nav screen lit up, rendering waypoints and vectors.
“The waypoints are on there,” Freeman continued. “Our prize is on the far side of that gas giant. As agreed, you get half of the credits when we retrieve my cargo, and anything you can keep…” He paused, searching for the words. “Whatever you can snatch and grab. The remaining credits will be transferred when you drop me off safely. Make sure your loadmaster brings lifting drones.”
“Let’s save fuel,” Veyrac said. “Prograde vector. Single burn, long coast. Keep us behind that gas giant for as long as possible. Charge the cloak when we’re coasting. Ortega, passive listening only. No active pings.”
“Eight-hour trip one way,” Lucci murmured while scribbling in her notepad, double-checking the math. “Captain, that puts the flip at eighty percent of the way. Hard retro burn. Correct and slow down as we come around the giant and pick up the target.”
“Bon. Make it happen… and call before the flip this time, Lucci. No more gravity-shift injuries.”
“Indeed… indeed,” Ortega muttered under his breath, not bothering to look when Lucci chuckled.
Veyrac pushed off toward the cargo hold. The corridor told its own story: hairline cracks along a panel seam, a flicker in the overhead light strips, a socket spitting sparks as he passed.
He steadied himself at the cargo hold and locked his magboots while looking down, “Reid! Client needs lifting drones. Get them ready.”
Callum Reid glanced up from behind a crate. “Aye. I’ll fetch your fancy floatin’ toys, Capt’n.”
---
The bridge lights were dimmed while coasting. Freeman was half asleep in a chair when Lucci’s voice came over the shipwide. “We’re about to flip. Strap in.”
Veyrac caught a handhold and locked his magboots, eyes fixated on the nav overlay.
“Captain.” Ortega didn’t look up, “We’re flipping blind. Sorry.” His voice jittered, “Magnetosphere interference, plasma tails, ring dust. The passive is useless. We should…”
“Pareil pour quiconque dans le système,” Veyrac interrupted. “Let’s not broadcast our position. You’ll get used to it, kid.”
The ship rolled, nose to stern, engine toward the gas giant, and initiated a long, hard burn. Loose tools and cabinet doors rattled until the glide vector lined up.
“Final adjustments,” Lucci trimmed the stick with just her fingertips. “We’ll have a smooth coast to…”
“Contact,” Ortega blurted. “Bearing zero-six-two by thirty by fifteen. Lost in the parallax until we moved clear of the giant. Multiple returns.”
His face went pale. “Oh no, Collegium signatures. Captain, we’re inside their weapons envelope.”
“Espèce de connard, Freeman, tu nous as vendus.” Veyrac’s lips curled back, just a second. “Prep for course correction. Cloak on. Full burn down along the pole. Ride the giant’s pull and sling us clear. Stay low in the magnetosphere until…”
“Belay that,” Freeman didn’t raise his voice. “Belay that. All of it. Look at those readings again.”
Ortega swallowed, fingers trembling above the screen. “They’re all over… scattered heat points everywhere.”
“Exactly,” Freeman nodded once. “That’s our derelict. Are we being hailed?”
Sweat trickled down Ortega’s temple, “No.”
“No tracking beams. No railgun spikes either,” Lucci added. “Power levels are negligible.”
“They’re dead,” Freeman announced, almost with pride in his voice.
“Alors, Lucci, cloak on. Ortega, watch for power spikes when we enter their Keep-Out Zone.”
Veyrac met Freeman’s gaze, “You. I don’t like surprises. We don’t need attention from the Collegium.”
“I’m paying you. You do as I say.” Freeman didn’t wait for an answer. He silently flipped open his tablet, and a reflection of blueprints flickered across his face.
---
Ortega loosened his straps and drifted toward the bridge’s aft-facing window. Their target was finally visible to the naked eye. He didn’t look away as he thumbed the comm. “Alexei, you should come have a look at this.”
A reflection in the glass revealed Freeman floating beside him, also watching the derelict. “Welcome to the CSIV Carthage, one of the Senate’s interstellar cruisers. The Lagrange point behind the giant is its final resting place.”
The Carthage hung in debris, partly shrouded in dust. Its artificial gravity rotunda still spun, but the occasional plasma flares, exposed ribs, and contorted bulkheads revealed it for what it was: a ruin.
A hand grabbed the handrail beside them. Komarov leaned in, “Vot tebe i na.” He narrowed his eyes at the slow rotation outside. “Still rotating, maybe 0.3 g’s?”
Silence returned until Freeman finally turned away. “Our package is in the forward loading yard.”
“Lucci,” Veyrac paused, locked into a sensor screen, “find us a docking point. Looks like a hull breach ahead of the rotunda.”
“I see it,” she murmured, easing the stick a hair. “Spine’s warped, but there’s enough metal for a cable and a mag-clamp.”
Veyrac tapped the intercom. “Reid, rear-port view. Talk us in. Hold fifteen meters, and hook a cable.”
Static fuzzed as Callum’s voice came through the bridge speakers. “Copy. Closing to twenty… eighteen… fifteen. Give me three degrees starboard… steady… you’re bleeding spin. Correct point-four rpm.”
“Countering roll.” Lucci whispered, barely above her breath.
The static deepened, but one last phrase broke through: “Keep her here.” That was all Veyrac needed to push off toward the cargo hold.
---
Lucci held the Mélusine in station keeping, tiny against the fuselage of the Carthage. Frozen debris floated past the cockpit windows, each piece tumbling at its own rhythm in eerie silence.
The outer door parted, revealing the torn plating and warped spine of the Carthage. Callum was the first to lean out, bracing against the frame. He aimed the tether-gun, exhaled once, and fired. The line floated across the gulf until the magnetized clamps kissed the hull.
“Hard lock,” Callum said when the indicator on the gun flickered green.
Veyrac flashed a half-smile through his visor. “Alright, ragtag gang of badasses, let’s get our dinner. And maybe a new set of coils.”
They clipped onto the tether and pushed off the Mélusine in sequence, drifting through the void onto the Carthage’s hull. Boots hit metal with small, dull thuds; each locking magnetically on impact.
Freeman knelt by a narrow auxiliary hatch and brushed frost off the outer access panel. A dead touchscreen stared back at him, black and unresponsive. “No power.” He released an emergency crank from the panel and swung until the screen blinked on.
His override disk clicked into place with a gentle push. The display showed numbers, letters, and symbols in rapid sequence until the hatch grudgingly unlatched. One by one, they stepped inside and waited for Callum to pilot their drones carrying equipment from the Mélusine through the open hatch.
“Loading bay’s this way.” Freeman pointed left, down the dark passageway.
“Entendu. Komarov, Ortega, engineering’s aft. See if they’re feeling generous with spare parts. Coils for the Alcubierre are the priority. I’ll take Callum and Freeman forward.”
They moved through the forward section where a hull breach opened a direct view into the storms of the gas giant, washing blue light over the interior walls.
“We’re looking for containers 17-X-21-D and Echo-13,” Freeman reminded them. “One’s small, about the size of your mobile generator. The big one’s about 15 meters long.”
They split up, weaving around loose straps and drifting debris. Twenty minutes passed before Callum Reid’s voice came through comms. “Found them. Both intact. They look reinforced.”
Veyrac opened a channel to the aft team. “Ortega, Komarov, status?”
“Found some replacement parts.” Alexei’s voice was barely distinguishable over the static. “We’ll check the armory next.”
Callum crouched by a maintenance panel. “I can bypass the electropermanent mag-locks, but they’re clamped as well. I’ll need to power the loading bay’s subsystem to override.”
Veyrac nodded. “Get to it. We’ll prep the drones.”
The drones anchored their arms automatically when Veyrac and Freeman held them to the container’s flanks. Their amber lights started rotating, signaling they were ready to pull the units through zero-g.
A deep thunk reverberated through the bay floor when Callum reversed the polarity on the electropermanents. “Captain, the mags are disengaged, but the clamps are under a security lockout. I’ll have to cut them manually.”
Freeman held up a hand. “No need.” He slowly moved to the screen and entered a coded sequence. The clamps released in a slow, measured motion. Callum and Veyrac exchanged a glance. Quiet, but understood.
“D’accord. Let’s get paid. Reid, no need to rush. One-meter offset, guide the drones through the breach.”
The drones pushed the containers across open space with careful precision. They drifted out of the cruiser’s cracked hull and toward the open bay of the Mélusine.
By the time Callum had their cargo secured, Komarov and Ortega had stripped every extra part worth taking. Coils, weapons, data cores, anything worth a credit.
“On a connu pire.” Veyrac smirked while surveying the haul, “Rig charges. We don’t leave fingerprints.”
Ortega and Komarov moved off without a word. They planted detonators at strategic points on the Carthage and pushed off its hull one last time, signaling Lucci to take distance.
Moments later, faint flickers crawled across the Carthage’s surface. The first hints of a chain reaction nudging the cruiser slowly into the giant’s pull.
“Course back to the Buoy, six hours,” Lucci reported from the pilot seat.
Veyrac strapped in. “Make it shorter. I don’t want to get caught with my pants down next to a dead talonneuse. Heavy burn. Keep the cloak on.”
With its thrusters spooled, the Mélusine lurched into motion while behind them, the Carthage continued its quiet fall toward oblivion.
---
The Mélusine was over halfway back to the recharging Buoy when a sharp, metallic alarm erupted from the cargo hold.
Veyrac was out of his harness before the second pulse. Freeman and Komarov followed closely, pushing off bulkheads toward the cargo hold.
At the far end of the bay, Ortega stood rigid beside the larger container. Sweat ran down his temple. His face was red. “I… I just touched the seals. Sorry.”
Freeman didn’t think; he moved on instinct, pressing his access chip against the panel. The alarm choked mid-blare.
The silence hadn’t even settled when Veyrac’s pistol was up.
“Codes,” he said flatly. “Access. Collegium cruisers. Chips. Who are you working for?”
Freeman raised both hands, his calm and friendly mask cracked clean through. “You’re making a mistake. I don’t know what it is. Blind drop. Retrieve only.”
“Komarov, open the small one.” Veyrac didn’t blink. “Callum. Cuff Freeman to that pipe. I want him where we can see him.”
Ortega barely had time to flinch before a hand pushed him hard into the wall. Veyrac’s voice dropped to a low, dangerous rasp. “Putain, Ortega. Grow up. We do not touch a client’s cargo. Ever.”
Lucci’s voice over the shipwide cut through the moment. “Get ready for the flip.”
A moment later, the ship pitched gently as Lucci rotated the Mélusine. Thrusters hissed and popped in controlled bursts while she executed a smooth flip-and-retro burn toward the Buoy.
---
It took about an hour, but Komarov finally called a meeting in the mess. The room was dim, lit mostly by the hydroponics box that washed the table in a soft green hue. Freeman sat cuffed to a handrail, while Veyrac, Callum, and Lucci gathered around the prints and decrypted files Komarov had clipped to the table.
On the bridge, Ortega prepared for the reattachment sequence at the Buoy while listening in through the shipwide comms.
“Logs reference something called the Null Vector Drive.”
Lucci let out a low laugh. “Sci-fi pipe-dreams!”
Komarov continued, “Rumors said the Collegium was trying to revolutionize interstellar travel. No more faction-controlled FTL Rings. No more linear Alcubierre tunnels or dangerous course corrections. One pop and you jump to your destination.”
He held up a file. “The other one’s the Synapse Array. They tried merging quantum data processing with uploaded human cognition.”
Freeman’s head lifted slightly.
“Dozens of minds,” Komarov went on. “Scientists, strategists, mathematicians. All uploaded into a unified neural network. Logic, memory, intuition, and creativity blended together.”
“Alexei” Veyrac nodded to the smaller unit. “Are those minds still… in there? Are they alive? Conscious?”
“I don’t know. The notes say only one prototype maintained coherence. Designation A-1: Conscious Core.”
“Digital Slavery,” Callum whispered while looking outside the port window.
“Alexei, why are these two together?” Veyrac didn’t shift his look away from Freeman.
“The Null Vector Drive doesn’t warp or tunnel space like our drive. It identifies a quantum state where the vessel already occupies the target coordinates, then forces synchronization with that state. The computational requirements would be, well, frankly unthinkable. That’s where the Synapse Array comes into play.”
“You’re saying the Synapse Array calculates, while the drive drops you right there…” Lucci paused, “Don’t pass by start, don’t pay the ring guild. Just drop in right. Behind. Enemy. Lines.”
“Putain de merde!” Veyrac slammed his hand on the table. “We’re carrying something every power in The Known Systems will kill for. Collegium, the Guild, private militias, warlords… anyone with a ship and ambition.”
Freeman shook his head frantically. “I didn’t know. I was told to retrieve and deliver. Nothing else.”
“Boys!” Lucci’s voice cooled to steel. “Space it. Destroy it. Anyone who has this becomes a target. Anyone who can operate it becomes a god.”
“Well, you won’t like the next thing then.” Alexei hesitated, then added, “There was a homing beacon inside the container. Went live when Ortega opened it.”
Veyrac’s gaze slowly shifted upward, and he let out a drawn-out sigh.
“Signal’s weak but steady.” Komarov took a pen and drew. “It’ll travel Buoy-to-Buoy until it hits a controlled net. Hours, maybe days.”
“No. It’ll be faster.” Freeman’s face drained. “You don’t understand. That beacon triggers an intervention. Once it transmits, they send a retrieval crew.”
Veyrac didn’t turn around. “And the retrieval crew is?”
“Guild Black-ops retrieval. They wanted plausible deniability if the contractors got caught in a Collegium cruiser, but the Guild owns the buoys; they will know we’ve opened it.”
Callum shook his head. “We’re never walking away from that.”
“We can fix this.” Freeman wiped away a pearl of sweat on his brow. “Just give them the cargo. I’ll explain.”
“Those black-ops boys won’t care,” Callum added quietly. “They’ll kill every single one of us.”
---
‘They’ll kill every single one of us.’ The words bounced around in Ortega’s head.
His hand hovered inches above the flight controls, fingers trembling with the urge to do something, anything, other than wait.
“They’ll send someone,” he whispered to no one but the console. “Not to talk. To clean up.”
A soft tone cut off his thoughts. Arrival at the Buoy. He swallowed hard, steadied his voice, and announced over the shipwide, “Beginning reattachment of the Alcubierre section.”
Down in the mess, Veyrac straightened, reclaiming the center of the room. “Three options,” he said. “Deliver, hide, or destroy.”
He raised a finger. “Deliver… and we hand ourselves to the Guild. Big gamble.”
Second finger. “Hide… and we spend the rest of our lives running from every faction with ambition.”
Third. “Destroy it and hope they leave us alone.” He paused. “They won’t.”
Silence thickened the room. Lucci and Komarov exchanged a fraught, sidelong look, an unspoken conversation about the credits they could earn weighed against what The Guild may do with the tech.
Cuffs rattled softly as Freeman shifted. “Let’s just hand it over, man.”
Somewhere above them, metal clanked: deep, resonant locking of the Alcubierre section returning to its housing, followed by systems whining in the walls.
Veyrac frowned. “Ortega,” he said into the intercom, “Why is the drive spooling?”
A long beat followed. When Ortega answered, he could no longer hide the panic in his voice. “I’m dead if we wait, Captain. I opened it. They’ll come for me. I’m sorry.”
Veyrac didn’t argue. He merely nodded to Lucci. She pushed off toward the ladder and against the grating, but when she reached the bridge, the door was sealed.
Warning tones built, and an automated voice counted down. The deck vibrated when the Alcubierre drive locked, primed, and ignited.
“He’s right about one thing, Captain,” Freeman whispered. “They’re coming. And nothing we do now can change that.”
Notes & Translations
Real space / Alcubierre corridor
Interstellar-capable ships are equipped with a hyperdrive that generates a linear Alcubierre tunnel, allowing faster-than-light travel without time dilation. Most ships do not have enough power to create a tunnel on their own and rely on Ring Stations to generate them. On long routes, ships “hop” in straight lines from one Ring to the next. Smaller vessels have detachable hyperdrive modules that can be recharged separately while the ship maneuvers within a system.
The flip
Ships must rotate their engines toward their destination to execute controlled burns that slow them down or allow them to enter planetary/lunar orbits. It is a precise maneuver, typically handled by onboard navigation systems.
The Known Systems
The mapped and partially colonized star systems currently accessible to humans. Several political entities exist within it: the Collegium, the Ring-controlling Guild, independent colonies (such as the one in Orbital Night), warlords, and other factions.
System Buoy / CTR space
In remote regions with no Rings, ships rely on charging buoys. These provide enough power for a short Alcubierre hop in areas where no FTL infrastructure exists. It is taxing and far less reliable than using a Ring. Each buoy has a CTR, a spherical controlled zone that can only be entered with clearance. Ship computers negotiate recharge prices automatically.
Magboots
Artificial gravity is rare and difficult. Most crews rely on magnetic boots and on acceleration-based gravity. Larger ships, such as the Carthage, use rotundas to generate centrifugal gravity.
CSIV
Collegium Senate Interstellar Vessel. The designation for interstellar ships operated by the Collegium.
Null Vector Drive & Synapse Array
Two components of an experimental FTL system. The Null Vector Drive uses superposition to synchronize a ship with a quantum state in which it already occupies the target coordinates. The Synapse Array provides calculations by using an uploaded network of human intelligence and intuition. Together, they could allow a vessel to travel instantaneously. A battleship, for example, could appear behind enemy lines with no warning.
Translations
On y va. French: Let’s go.
D’accord. French: Okay/Alright.
Pareil pour quiconque dans le système. French: Same for anyone else in the system.
Espèce de connard, Freeman, tu nous as vendus. French: You piece of shit, Freeman, you sold us out (idiomatic).
Entendu. French: Understood/Okay.
On a connu pire. French: We’ve seen worse (idiomatic)
Talonneuse. French: Slang for prostitute.
Putain/Putain de merde. French: Fuck/Fucking hell (idiomatic). Whore/shitty whore (literal)
Vot tebe i na. Russian: There you have it.
Images
Quite an interesting and diverse cast of characters. Plan on a part two?
love the concept of human minds slaved to ships as AIs hehe