The First Tear

The hum of the *Stardust Drifter* was a lullaby, a familiar thrum that vibrated through the deck plating and into Vincent’s bones. It was the sound of routine, of miles traversed, of missions completed. Today, however, the lullaby felt discordant, a few notes off-key, a subtle dissonance that prickled at the edge of his awareness. He ran a hand over the cool, familiar grip of his pulse rifle, the metal a grounding weight against his thigh. Beside him, Josh whistled a tuneless melody, his gaze fixed on the shimmering expanse of stars outside the viewport.

“Think it’ll be a quick one, V?” Josh asked, his voice relaxed, unburdened by the low thrum of unease that had settled in Vincent’s gut.

Vincent grunted, his eyes scanning the holographic schematics of the derelict vessel displayed on the main console. The *Aethelgard*. A behemoth of a ship, adrift in the Kuiper Belt for decades. Its purpose, according to the briefing, was classified, its cargo lost to time and vacuum. Their mission: recovery of specific data cores. Simple enough. Or so they’d been told.