The outer rim lanes were quiet—too quiet. Ashoka stood on the bridge of the Indomitable, his flagship, staring at the star map where glowing lines marked the trade routes they had recently reopened. His industrial revival plan was progressing, but every shipment of rare minerals and hyperfuel was a gamble.
For the past two weeks, merchant captains had sent distress calls only for them to vanish before rescue ships arrived. The only evidence left behind: charred debris drifting in deep space, and the occasional ghost transmission—fragments of terrified voices before silence swallowed them.
"This isn't the work of common pirates," Captain Varin muttered from the navigation station. "They're too fast, too precise. It's like they know our routes before we set them."
Ashoka didn't answer right away. He had been suspecting the same thing. Whoever was behind these attacks wasn't after loot—they were testing his defenses, probing for weaknesses.
"Double the escorts on all cargo convoys," Ashoka ordered finally. "And scramble the Shadow Wing."
Varin raised an eyebrow. "The Shadow Wing? That's… risky. They're still untested."
Ashoka's eyes narrowed. "So is the patience of my enemies."
Later that night, Ashoka sat alone in his quarters, reviewing reports. Patterns emerged—too consistent to be random. The attacks always occurred in sectors near ancient relic sites, the same type of ruins he had been investigating.
He activated a private comm line. The face of Dr. Ilyra Kael, chief of science, appeared on the holo-screen.
"You've seen the attack reports?" he asked.
She nodded grimly. "Yes… and I've also been decoding inscriptions from the last relic you recovered. There's something you should know, Ashoka. These relics—if combined—they form a map. Not just to a treasure, but to… something else. Something older than our recorded history."
Ashoka leaned forward. "And someone else knows about this map?"
"That's the only explanation for the attacks," she said. "Whoever they are, they're eliminating witnesses and taking any relic fragments they can find."
The next day, the Shadow Wing deployed—sleek, stealth-equipped interceptors designed for surgical strikes. They trailed a convoy bound for the Zeyran system, hoping to lure the attackers out.
Hours passed in silence. Then, without warning, space itself seemed to shimmer, and ships materialized—angular, black, and bristling with weapons. The Pirate Lord Korrath's banner wasn't on their hulls. Instead, these ships bore an emblem Ashoka had never seen before: a ring of burning stars.
"This isn't piracy," Ashoka said, gripping the armrest of his command chair. "It's war."
The battle erupted in flashes of plasma and streaks of ion fire. Ashoka's forces fought fiercely, but the enemy's movements were too coordinated, as if they knew every counter before it happened.
Then, in the middle of the chaos, one enemy ship broke formation and dove toward the convoy's lead freighter. Ashoka realized too late—it wasn't going for cargo. It was aiming for the relic hidden in the freighter's cargo hold.
"Shadow Wing, intercept!" Ashoka roared.
When the dust settled, the enemy ships vanished as suddenly as they had appeared, leaving only wreckage—and an empty cargo bay where the relic had been.
Ashoka stood on the bridge, fists clenched.
They weren't just stealing his resources. They were assembling the map.
And if they finished it before him… the galaxy might belong to them.