Echoes of the Forgotten

Mera’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Kid, you’d better sit down. We’re coming out of jump soon, and it can be rough on a first-timer.”

Kenny nodded and dropped onto a bench that hummed with the ship’s vibrations. A moment later, the light outside reformed into points, and the stars stopped streaking. The ship shook once, twice, then settled into a steady cruise. Kranos’s guttural voice came over the intercom: “Everyone meet in the cargo bay. We need to assess the damage.”

The cargo bay was a cluttered space filled with crates, tools, and a few stasis pods. Kranos stood beside the ship’s open ramp, his green skin glistening with sweat from the fight. A blackened burn scar ran across his forearm. Crane was inspecting a panel near the engines, his long fingers tracing wires. Dreg leaned against a crate, arms crossed, glaring at Kenny with barely concealed contempt.

“The hyperdrive took a hit,” Kranos said. “We’ll need to stop for repairs. There’s a depot on a nearby asteroid, Krel-7. It’s not much, but it’ll have the parts we need.” He looked at Kenny. “And while we’re there, we’ll get you some proper gear. You can’t keep fighting in a spacesuit with a patched sleeve.”

Kenny looked down at his own clothes—the same worn jacket and jeans he’d worn since Earth. “I don’t have credits.”

“You’re part of the crew now,” Mera said, clapping him on the back. “We’ll cover you. Just don’t get us into trouble.”

The asteroid depot was a hollowed-out rock, its interior lit by flickering neon strips. A handful of ships were docked in a ring around a central market. The air smelled of ozone and fried food. Kenny followed the crew as they walked through the market, past stalls selling strange fruits, weapons, and live creatures in cages. Sona walked beside him, her eyes scanning the crowd.

“Stay close,” she whispered. “There are eyes everywhere.”

Kenny nodded, but his attention was caught by a small shop tucked between a repair bay and a food stand. A sign above it read “Antiques and Archives” in several languages, including English. He stopped. “Can we take a look? Just for a minute?”

Sona glanced at the others, who were haggling with a mechanic over parts. “Quickly. Meet us at the repair bay.”

Inside, the shop was dim and dusty. Shelves were lined with data cubes, broken artifacts, and old holographic projectors. The shopkeeper—a creature with four arms and a wide, wrinkled face—looked up as they entered. “Welcome, welcome. Looking for something specific? History? Tech?”

“Just browsing,” Kenny said. He wandered to a back shelf where a collection of data cubes was arranged in a neat row. One caught his eye: a dull gray cube with a faint etching of a spiral. He picked it up, and it hummed softly in his hand. A hologram flickered to life—a human face, middle-aged, with tired eyes and a kind smile. Kenny’s breath caught. It was his father.

The man spoke, his voice crackling with age: “If you’re seeing this, then I’m already gone. But I’ve left you a path. Find the Spiral of Syr. There, you’ll find the key to your mother’s prison. But beware—there is a traitor among the hunters. Trust no one fully. Not even yourself.”

The hologram faded. Kenny stood frozen, the cube trembling in his hands.

“What is that?” Sona asked, stepping closer.

Kenny quickly slipped the cube into his pocket. “Nothing. Just an old data log. Let’s go.”

She gave him a curious look but didn’t press.

Back at the repair bay, the crew was finishing up. The mechanic, a bulky being with multiple mechanical limbs, was welding a panel onto the ship’s hull. Kranos stood with his arms crossed, watching. Dreg was sitting on a crate, polishing a blaster. Mera was chatting with Crane, laughing about something.

Kenny joined them, his mind still reeling from the message. A traitor among the hunters? Who could it be? He looked at each of them in turn—Mera, always cheerful; Crane, quiet and loyal; Dreg, hostile but seemingly straightforward; Kranos, the gruff captain. He didn’t want to believe any of them could betray him.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Mera asked. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Just tired,” Kenny lied. He forced a smile.

The repairs took another hour. As they prepared to leave, the mechanic handed Kranos a data pad. “Ship’s good to go. But I’d watch the power couplings—they’re a bit unstable.”

Kranos nodded and paid. As they boarded the ship, Sona pulled Kenny aside. “You’re hiding something. I can tell.”

He hesitated, then pulled out the cube. “I found this in the shop. It’s from my father. He said there’s a traitor among us. And something about a Spiral of Syr.”

Sona’s eyes widened. “The Spiral of Syr is a place of legend—a nebula that holds an ancient archive. If your father left a key there, we have to go.”

“But who’s the traitor?” Kenny asked.

“I don’t know. But we have to be careful who we tell.”

They agreed to keep the secret for now. As the ship left the asteroid, Kenny stood at the viewport, watching the station shrink away. The message echoed in his mind: Trust no one fully. The adventure he had dreamed of was becoming darker, more dangerous. But he was no longer the same boy who had stumbled onto a spaceship. He was a spark, and he was learning to burn.

Later that night, as the crew slept, Kenny crept to the ship’s small gym. He turned on a training hologram—a series of combat routines Crane had programmed. He moved through them, his body learning the flow. The golden sparks flickered at his fingertips, and he tried to concentrate on calling them forth. A faint beam shot out, hitting a dummy and leaving a scorch mark. He grinned.

“Not bad.” Dreg’s voice came from the doorway. Kenny spun, his hands raised. Dreg held up his palms. “Relax. I’m not here to fight.”

Kenny lowered his hands warily. “What do you want?”

Dreg stepped into the room. “I saw what you did back on the station. That energy blast. It was strong. Stronger than most soldiers can manage.”

“It was an accident,” Kenny said.

“Maybe. But accidents can become skills.” Dreg paused. “I was a test subject once. For an alien race called the Kylari. They injected me with something that let me regenerate and breathe in space. They abandoned me when the experiments failed. I know what it’s like to be different.”

Kenny stared at him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because rivals can become allies, if we let them.” Dreg extended a hand. “No more grudges. Let’s start over.”

Kenny hesitated, then shook his hand. Dreg’s grip was firm, but not aggressive. “Okay. Truce.”

They trained together for an hour, Dreg showing Kenny how to channel his strength, Kenny sharing tips on speed and reflexes. By the end, they were both sweating and laughing. It felt good to have someone his age to train with.

As they headed back to their cabins, Dreg said, “If you ever need help—real help—find me. I’ve got your back.”

Kenny nodded, but in the back of his mind, his father’s warning lingered. A traitor among the hunters. Could it be Dreg, pretending to be friendly? Or someone else? He didn’t know. But he knew one thing: he had to find the Spiral of Syr, and he had to do it before whoever was hunting him caught up.

At dawn, the ship’s alarm woke them. Kranos’s voice came over the intercom: “We’ve got a target. A bounty on a rogue scientist hiding in the Nebula of Whispers. We’ll take the job, earn some credits, and maybe get some answers.”

The crew stirred. Kenny pulled on his new gear—a reinforced jacket and a blaster from the ship’s armory. As he checked the weapon, he felt a strange calm. He wasn’t just a passenger anymore. He was a Space Hunter in training. And the cosmos was calling.

But somewhere in the dark, the cloaked figure from the station was still hunting. And Kenny knew their next encounter would not be so easily resolved.