[= Docking Data Acquired... =]

  Skov’s End

  Asteroid Colony, Freehold Space

  Standard Galactic Date: 2739, Cycle 03

  Station Cycle: 18:42

  [= Connection Stable =]

  The time glowed across my wrist display: 18:42. Not that it mattered here. Skov’s End didn’t pretend at day or night, just artificial lights pulsing through a permanent gloom.

  Boots rattled across metal grates, voices echoing sharply through the halls.

  Voices bounced off walls, laughter bursting like sparks in the gloom.

  Everywhere I looked, there were faces. Shadows and faces, slipping in and out of the dim glow. Some eyes sharp with suspicion, others glazed with practiced indifference.

  The air was thick with smoke, dust… maybe something worse. Filters struggled to keep it breathable, but the smell of burnt metal and grease clung to everything.

  Comfort wasn’t the priority here. Survival was, barely wrapped in rusted steel and recycled oxygen.

  Skov’s End sprawled chaotically through the belly of the asteroid, a city hewn directly from rock and metal. Cracks ran wild across the walls, hastily reinforced by metal beams and scaffolding that disappeared into the dark above.

  A tangled web of cables and pipes crisscrossed overhead like some giant spider’s web, humming and rattling, carrying power deeper into forgotten tunnels.

  I moved slowly through the bustle, passing ramshackle stalls lining every inch of available space. Vendors barked offers in languages I couldn’t begin to guess, pushing wares that defied reason—fried skewers of mystery meat, engine parts blackened by fire, ancient-looking blasters cobbled together from scraps. Piles of half-broken electronics spilled into walkways, forcing me to weave around them.

  A vendor shouted from behind cages packed with shrieking little lizards, while opposite stood a towering, four-armed alien with leafy, dark skin and a mask carved from polished bone. He made silent deals with practiced hand gestures, wordlessly trading blasters for creds.

  I kept moving, eyes wide despite myself.

  A group of Va’thari gathered close, their elongated limbs weaving gracefully as they hummed low-frequency chants. Their silvery-gray skin shimmered faintly beneath the flickering lights, large reflective eyes gazing inward, lost in their ritual. Delicate fingers traced intricate, glowing patterns through the air, each movement deliberate and synchronized, resonating with a rhythmic pulse that seemed to vibrate through the very air itself.

  It was beyond my understanding, but mesmerizing all the same.

  Around another corner, two squat, muscular Ta’Keth faced off, their thick, scaly hides glinting in harsh artificial light, frilled heads flared aggressively. Their guttural voices hissed and clicked sharply as they haggled over a chunk of gleaming rock, tails twitching impatiently until one finally conceded with a grudging growl, clapping the victor roughly on the shoulder in respect.

  A deal well done.

  The further I walked, the more Skov’s End felt like a place without rules, without boundaries.

  Ex-Republic soldiers wandered aimlessly, uniforms ragged, badges torn off, exchanging solemn nods. Mechanics sat hunched in tight groups, their tools and scattered parts spread across stained tarps.

  Down another narrow passage, I emerged into a makeshift bar assembled from battered cargo crates. A skeletal alien barkeep silently filled metal cups with something thick and black, serving quiet patrons hunched over their drinks, lost in their own private worlds.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I paused at the entrance, feeling both completely out of place and oddly drawn to join them.

  No one spoke.

  They just drank from rough metal cups filled with something thick and dark, like it was the last good thing left in the galaxy.

  Looks like a nice place to kill some time.

  I eased onto a battered crate, nodding to the skeletal bartender. He fixed me with an empty stare, dark sockets narrowing, then poured without a word. The drink slid over, thick as the engine oil, Nyx might use to grease the Valkyrion.

  I slipped onto a crate, giving the bartender a nod.

  He stared, those empty sockets narrowing, and poured me a cup without a word.

  The drink slid over, dark as engine oil, the smell... well, “pungent” was being kind. Like some liquid Nyx would find useful to lube up the ship.

  I took a cautious sip.

  Thick. Burned all the way down.

  Made my teeth buzz, my head spin.

  Another sip.

  Then something shifted.

  Voices echoed, not from around me, but from inside my own head.

  “This one’s not like the others.”

  “Strange aura... But human, no?”

  I froze mid-sip, glancing around.

  The patrons watched me now, eyes reflecting a faint luminescence, pale as distant starlight. Their gazes felt like cold needles prodding my thoughts.

  “Can... hear us?”

  I shot back, thinking as loud as I could. “Who the hell are you?”

  There was a ripple, like laughter but silent.

  “He speaks!”

  “Strange indeed. Humans never hear us.”

  “What... is it?”

  I cleared my throat, trying to stay casual.

  “You know,” I said aloud, raising my cup, “if you're going to whisper in my brain, at least buy me another round.”

  A low, gurgling laugh rippled through the group, and the bartender refilled my cup, giving me a small nod of acknowledgment.

  “First human... to join us in thought.”

  “Drink deeper… and you shall see.”

  I shrugged. Why not?

  I drank deeper this time, feeling warmth spreading down my spine, through my arms, fingertips tingling with energy.

  And then—snap—I was in.

  Submerged.

  Drowning in an overwhelming hurricane of voices, images, and memories swirling and colliding in my head.

  Images of battles, burning worlds, the endless void swallowing screams. Then blurred into visions of quiet days, waffles on a Sunday morning, and laughter echoing around a table in a brightly lit room. Everything tangled, jarring against each other, pulling me in opposite directions.

  A collective mind touched mine, vast yet splintered.

  The aliens were just as surprised as I was.

  “Impossible... yet here he is.”

  One of them, a squat, hulking creature with scales like rusted iron, reached out with his mind, brushing against mine. Testing.

  I pushed back, a mental nudge, just enough to show I wasn’t defenseless.

  He recoiled slightly, amused. “Ah, this one’s got teeth!”

  “Perhaps not a human after all...”

  Eidolon, the word slipped unbidden into my head, and I tensed.

  The thought... wasn’t mine.

  They watched, studying my reaction with that same quiet intensity. Their luminescent eyes narrowing slightly, waiting.

  I waved it off, taking another gulp, a little too eager, and tried to act natural.

  “Where… where are you from, strange one?” a different voice prodded gently.

  Images flickered again. Vivid flashes of Earth, familiar and mundane, replaced sharply by a dim, metallic cell. Soldiers in Terran Republic uniforms dragging me through sterile corridors, their faces hidden behind mirrored visors.

  My jaw clenched, heart racing. I didn't know which was real.

  "Saw another human recently... look like this."

  His mental image hit me with a weird, almost photographic clarity. Golden hair. Dark blue eyes. Small frame, a bit too cute to be wandering around alone. She wore some kind of school uniform, blazer, skirt, long socks, probably Republic-issued.

  I knew her.

  Didn’t I?

  Another one chimed in, grinning in that strange, toothy way their species managed.

  “Think she lives on Halyra III. Republic Academy planet. She was asking too many questions."

  I raised an eyebrow. "You think that narrows it down? There are billions of humans out there. All over the place."

  The wiry alien shrugged, grin full of jagged teeth. "Just saying. If you run into her... might be worth a chat."

  "Yeah," I muttered, tossing back the last of my drink. "If you see her again, send her my way."

  They nodded, their thoughts drifting in a half-drunken haze, one by one giving me names that sounded more like half-spoken dreams than real identities.

  With a shaky wave, I turned toward the Valkyrion, but as I moved, something felt off.

  I looked back.

  They were still watching me. Still drinking. Still whispering.

  Dead men drinking.

  I quickened my pace, shaking off the cold crawling up my spine.

  The girl’s face lingered in my mind.

  I’d seen her before.

  But where?

  And why the hell were my memories all starting to bleed together?