Chapter 48 - So Close, Yet So Far

  Darius emerged into the sprawling shipyard bazaar, a labyrinth of shops and kiosks tucked under the shadow of hulking salvage rigs and industrial freighters. The shopping district clung to the fringes of the shipyard, an unregulated no-man’s-land where merchants catered to every conceivable need of workers and travellers alike. It was far enough from the main docks to avoid the watchful eyes of shipyard management but close enough that even the laziest mechanic could grab a meal or restock supplies without much effort.

  The bazaar buzzed with low-level energy despite the growing tension from the station’s lockdown. Merchants shouted half-hearted pitches from behind cluttered counters, hawking everything from spare parts and tools to bootleg entertainment chips and questionable food. Crowds of workers moved between stalls, hunched against the cold metallic breeze that swept through the open corridors. For Darius, it was familiar, almost comforting. This was the heartbeat of Exeter Station—the grime, the noise, the deal-making.

  He kept his head down, his makeshift vac-suit earning a few side-eyes and smirks from passersby. Nobody said anything, but the attention prickled at him all the same. He’d feel better once he was out of this ridiculous outfit and into something that didn’t make him look like he’d just crawled out of a maintenance hatch.

  The first few clothing stalls were non-starters—either overpriced or filled with garish work uniforms that would look out of place anywhere but certain areas. Eventually, he ducked into a small shop tucked between a hardware outlet and a synth-food stand. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of recycled fabric and oil, racks of clothes arranged in an unorganised sprawl.

  He rifled through the options, sticking to neutral tones and rugged materials. A pair of sturdy canvas trousers and a heavy shirt caught his eye, simple enough to pass for either a labourer or a drifter. What really mattered, though, was the jacket. His hand skimmed over cheap knock-offs and flimsy materials until it landed on a heavy, dark coat made of reinforced synth-leather. The price tag made him wince—it was easily twice what he should be spending—but he lingered anyway.

  The jacket had weight. Its seams were reinforced, the cut practical but sharp enough to avoid looking sloppy. He tried it on, testing the fit and flex. It was sturdy, with deep pockets and a lining that hinted at real warmth—perfect for blending in without drawing attention.

  Darius sighed, running a hand over the worn collar. “Screw it,” he muttered, taking the jacket to the counter. A good jacket was worth the credits, even if he might regret the expense later.

  Tapping his cred-chip to the reader was almost painful, especially because he had no way to earn or even steal more without attracting far too much attention.

  Darius stepped back into the flow of the bazaar, blending into the crowd more naturally now that his outfit didn’t scream “desperation.” The new jacket rested heavy on his shoulders, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill of the shipyard’s metallic corridors. He adjusted the collar and set his sights on the civilian section of the spaceport, weaving through the bustle with practised ease.

  The transition from the worker-heavy bazaar to the civilian docks was subtle but clear. The air shifted, cleaner but somehow staler, the grit of industry giving way to the sterile atmosphere of commercial transit. Crowds thinned, replaced by scattered groups of travellers waiting for delayed departures, vendors hawking overpriced conveniences, and the occasional security patrol, whose casual movements belied their watchful eyes.

  Echo’s voice crackled softly in his augs, breaking the rhythm of his thoughts. “What exactly are you planning, Darius?”

  “Scoping out the ships,” he muttered under his breath, pretending to adjust the cuff of his sleeve to hide the conversation. “Gotta find something worth stealing, don’t I?”

  “And how do you intend to do that?” Echo asked, faintly curious.

  Darius smirked, quickening his pace as the shadow of the control tower loomed ahead. “There’s a manifest in the control tower—an inventory of every ship docked at the spaceport. Class, cargo, crew size. All the info I need to pick the right one.”

  “You assume you can access it,” Echo countered. “The building is undoubtedly secure.”

  “Sure,” Darius said, his tone casual. “But it’s big. A building that size has a lot of entrances, and no one questions maintenance. I grab some tools, look like I belong, and walk right in. Worked before.”

  “And if you’re caught?”

  “Then I improvise,” Darius shot back, turning a corner and catching sight of his target. “It’s not like I’ve got a lot of options, Echo.”

  The so-called “control tower” came into view—a sprawling building of reinforced steel and plasteel that sprawled across an entire section of the spaceport. The name was more traditional than literal; the structure resembled a command centre crossed with a warehouse rather than the sleek spire one might expect. Its size made sense, given the scale of the spaceport. Hundreds of ships cycled through Exeter Station at any given time, ranging from bulky cargo haulers to nimble two-man salvage rigs, and the control tower had to coordinate them all.

  The building’s exterior was marked by layers of functionality. Broad bay doors lined its lower levels, leading to what Darius knew were maintenance depots and storage facilities. Higher up, rows of windows offered a glimpse into the buzzing activity inside—control rooms, offices, and the nerve centre where flight paths were assigned and clearances granted. The top of the structure bore a massive array of antennae and transmitters, humming faintly with the effort of keeping the station’s chaotic traffic in check.

  Surprisingly, the building was just as busy as ever, despite how there was no actual ship traffic. If anything, it only made it easier to blend in, so Darius wasn’t interested in questioning the rare stroke of good fortune.

  Slipping through one of the external doors leading to the maintenance areas was as simple as pressing his palm to the door panel and letting Echo do his thing. It was getting less and less weird to see the nanites melt through his skin and into whatever he wanted opened.

  Darius almost ran into someone who was just exiting, giving himself a heart attack. Fortunately, the other worker simply gave him a distracted nod and a polite smile. Clearly, his outfit was enough to blend in, though it doubtlessly didn’t hurt that he had clearly just walked through a security door that required the correct ID to open.

  A small smirk stole across his face. This might be easier than he thought.

  Darius scanned the room, eyes flicking over shelves cluttered with spare parts, tools, and maintenance gear. He grabbed a tool bag, its contents rattling faintly as he slung it over his shoulder. A high-visibility vest caught his eye, crumpled in a pile near the doorway. He snagged it and pulled it on over his new jacket, grimacing at how it obscured his best purchase in months. Still, blending in came first.

  With the vest in place and the tool bag at his side, he stepped into the building proper, blending into the chaos as if he belonged. The noise of the control tower hit him in waves—a low hum of voices layered over the rhythmic tap of boots and the occasional shout from a frustrated captain. The building was a hive of activity, with captains, supervisors, and staff swarming like irritated ants.

  Most of the crowd were captains of docked ships, and they didn’t look happy. The lockdown had them on edge, each trying to talk—or shout—their way to a solution. Darius spotted a knot of them near the main service desk, waving datapads and gesturing angrily at a beleaguered official who looked ready to snap.

  The chaos worked to his advantage. The captains didn’t pay him a second glance, assuming he was just another member of staff navigating the crowded halls. The staff ignored him too, likely mistaking him for a crew technician working for one of the captains. He strode purposefully, his head held high and his pace brisk, doing his best impression of someone who absolutely belonged there.

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  “Where’s your supervisor?” one captain barked as he passed.

  “Not my department,” Darius replied without breaking stride, barely suppressing a grin. The trick was all in the attitude. People rarely questioned confidence, and he was brimming with it today.

  Echo’s voice crackled softly through his augs, still sounding somehow more real than before. “You appear to be enjoying yourself.”

  He was – more than he expected to. He wasn’t sure if it was the merger with Echo that had given him a boost to confidence, or if he was just naturally getting used to high-stress situations, but he felt… good. There was still some fear, of course – he was, after all, breaking into another secured area – but it was more of a thrill than a debilitating problem.

  It was… fun.

  The hallways grew less congested the deeper he went, the cacophony of voices fading behind him. He navigated the maze of corridors with ease, relying on years of experience in similar buildings to guide him. Echo chimed in occasionally, directing him toward the most logical route based on the internal schematics it had already accessed.

  Darius found a small maintenance terminal tucked away in an alcove out of the main thoroughfare. He set down his tool bag and crouched beside the console, popping it open with a practised flick of a screwdriver. Wires and circuits greeted him, the internals exactly as he’d expected. The setup was standard, familiar, and easy to manipulate.

  He rummaged through the bag, pulling out tools and laying them around haphazardly. To anyone walking by, it would look like a standard diagnostic check—just a guy in a vest doing what he was supposed to.

  With the scene set, Darius stuck one hand into the console to allow Echo to interface with the internals, and held a dataslate in the other hand, fixing a disgruntled expression on his face.

  “Interface established.”

  Darius watched the screen light up as the AI bypassed the console’s security, data streaming faster than he could follow. The manifest was enormous, listing every ship docked in the spaceport, complete with crew rosters, cargo manifests, and maintenance schedules. Perfect.

  Echo continued without pause. “Downloading the relevant data. Estimated time: twenty seconds.”

  Darius pulled out a small multi-tool and began tinkering with a nonessential panel, just in case anyone wandered past. His posture was casual, his movements deliberate but unhurried. Twenty seconds felt like an eternity, but no one stopped to question him. The busy atmosphere worked in his favour, keeping attention elsewhere.

  “Download complete,” Echo said smoothly.

  Darius packed up quickly, reassembling the console with efficient motions. Once the last screw was back in place, he stuffed his tools into the bag, slung it over his shoulder, and stood, adjusting the vest to make it sit straighter.

  The walk back to the main entrance was almost anticlimactic. No alarms blared, and no guards rushed to stop him. The tension in the air wasn’t directed at him but at the endless stream of complaints from irate captains. Darius kept his head down, his pace brisk but not hurried, and slipped back into the flow of the crowd.

  If his time with the Freeholders had been that easy, he might have stuck around.

  Naturally, that’s when things went wrong.

  There were thousands of people who worked at the spaceport on rotating shifts. Darius had always kept to himself, so the odds of tunning into someone who could recognise him were low, to say the least. He would have to be astronomically unlucky to run into someone. So when someone from the crowds stepped out in front of him, blocking his path, Darius wasn’t surprised at all to recognise him.

  “Kallan!” Raff greeted with a sly grin. “Didn’t expect to see you here!”

  “Raff,” Darius returned warily. Of all the people to run into, Raff wasn’t the worst, but he was very far from the best.

  “You know, it’s the funniest thing, Kallan,” Raff said loudly, attracting no small amount of attention, “But I was talking to this lovely Imperial Officer a few weeks ago, and they said they were looking for you!”

  Around him, the din of conversation started to lessen as people curiously turned his way.

  “Real funny,” Darius responded through gritted teeth, trying to figure out if he was better off trying to stop Raff from talking, or just cutting his losses and making a run for it.

  Raff didn’t let up, his grin spreading as he stepped closer. “You know, Kallan, I couldn’t help but wonder why the Empire’s got such a hard-on for you. You’ve always been a bit of a mystery, haven’t you? Keeping to yourself, working those odd jobs. Then, one day, you vanished, and now here you are. Interesting, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Not at all, I’m a very boring person.” Darius bit out through a tight smile, acutely aware of the growing hush of curious people around him.

  “But don’t worry,” Raff said, his voice carrying enough to ensure everyone nearby heard him. “I’d hate to ruin your day by spilling everything to the wrong person. I’m not that kind of guy. You know me—loyal to my friends. Speaking of, friend, we should catch up. You can tell me all about what you’ve been up to.” He laughed.

  Darius knew Raff didn’t want to actually catch up. He also knew that Raff probably didn’t even care why the Empire was looking for him – he was just enough of a jerk to jump on the opportunity to ruin someone else’s day, no matter the circumstances.

  “Normally, I’d love to,” Darius bit out with a tight smile, “But I’m pretty busy right now. Rain check?”

  Without waiting for a response, he started pushing through the crowd, not bothering to be gentle.

  “Hey, don’t go yet. We were just getting reacquainted,” Raff called from behind him, irritation colouring his tone.

  Darius didn’t look back, his pace quickening. He reached the main doors and slid through, pulling them shut behind him. “Echo, lock it,” he muttered under his breath.

  There was a faint whir and a soft click as the mechanism engaged. Behind him, he could hear muffled voices and someone tugging at the now-sealed door.

  “Friend of yours?” Echo asked dryly.

  Darius didn’t respond, already breaking into a run. His boots pounded against the metal floor as he wound through the familiar corridors of the spaceport, dodging clusters of workers and the occasional wandering captain. He needed to reach the maintenance tunnels—get to Echo’s frame and figure out a plan before someone from the building decided to call it in to the Empire.

  He didn’t stop running until he spotted Echo’s frame tucked into the shadowed alcove where he’d left it.

  As soon as he came into range, Echo took control and it straightened, turning to face him as he leaned against the wall, sucking in gulps of air. Man, he really needed to do more cardio.

  “I am guessing by your actions that you don’t believe that this ‘Raff’ will keep quiet about your presence?” Echo asked rhetorically.

  “Even if he did, he made enough of a scene back there that someone will be calling for the enforcers. Can’t risk it.”

  Darius pushed himself off the wall, his breath still ragged, and started pacing in tight circles, his mind racing. Raff’s big mouth wasn’t the worst of it—Raff liked to talk, but Darius had seen him fold under pressure. If an Imperial officer caught wind of what just happened, they’d track Raff down, squeeze him, and extract every detail. Even if Raff didn’t mean to rat him out, it wouldn’t matter.

  “You know what this means,” Darius said, forcing himself to think through the panic. “The Empire’s going to find out I’m alive, and they’re going to know I’m trying to leave the planet. Once they’ve got that, they’ll start locking down harder than they already are.”

  “Correct,” Echo replied, calm as ever. “Your odds of evading detection diminish significantly the longer you remain here. Remaining on Caldera IV would become increasingly untenable.”

  Darius stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Echo’s frame. “Then we don’t stay. We go now. Even with the lockdown.”

  “The orbital grid complicates that plan,” Echo said. “It is not designed for targeting civilian vessels but is capable of doing so. Any unauthorised launch is likely to be intercepted.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Darius muttered, rubbing his temples. The grid wasn’t meant for attacking ships, but its firepower didn’t care about intent. It was calibrated for meteorites, designed to vaporise solid rock with pinpoint precision. A small ship? It would be like swatting a fly.

  His mind turned over the problem, grasping at ideas. “They’re not going to expect someone to try and leave during the lockdown. That’s one advantage. They’re focused on keeping the place locked down, not someone crazy enough to make a break for it.”

  “That assumption does not guarantee success,” Echo said. “The fact that we would be the only ship in the air will also make us significantly easier to target.”

  Darius started pacing again. “The grid’s automated, right? It works based on trajectory and proximity warnings. If I can find a ship fast enough—something nimble—I can plot a course that makes it hard for the grid to lock on. Maybe even try to stay directly over the station, so if they miss, it’ll hit the spaceport. Automated systems won’t take a shot like that, so it’d mess with the targeting.”

  “That is a risky proposition,” Echo noted. “If the grid adjusts or recalibrates, you may find yourself directly in its line of fire.”

  “And staying here is what, safe?” Darius shot back. “Look, it’s not perfect, but it’s better than waiting for the Empire to close in. Besides, I’ve seen ships pull it off before—smugglers do it when they need to bypass inspections. If they can do it, I can.”

  Echo was silent for a beat. “Your logic is sound within the constraints of the situation. However, the margin for error is razor-thin.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m starting to get used to that. Besides, if I stay here, it’s only a matter of time before they track me down – and you know they won’t spare any expenses. Better a slim chance than no chance.”

  “Very well. I will start searching for a suitable ship.”

  Darius really hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

  Then again, it wouldn’t be his first.