A Dangerous Delivery

The comms unit crackled to life, a tinny, insistent buzz that cut through the low hum of the Ironmule’s engines. Hampton, hunched over a steaming mug of synth-caf in the cramped mess hall, didn’t flinch. He’d learned patience in the quiet years since the fleet, learned to let the universe make its noise while he focused on the steady beat of his own ship. Briggs, nursing a similar mug with a grease stain blooming on his sleeve, grunted. “Someone’s eager for a chat, Cap.”

Hampton pushed himself up, the worn soles of his boots squeaking on the deck plating. “Let’s see who’s knocking, Briggs.” He moved with the familiar, unhurried grace of a man who knew every inch of his vessel, his shadow stretching long in the dim light of the corridor. Maya was already at her station, fingers dancing across the holographic interface. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, a sure sign that this wasn’t just some routine cargo manifest.

“It’s… a priority signal, Captain,” Maya reported, her voice a little tight. “Encrypted, high-level. Coming from the Cygnus Relay. They’re offering a substantial bonus for immediate pickup and delivery. Sensitive materials, they say.”