Blackridge Station wasn't a place you went to live. It was where you went when you'd run out of other choices.
It loomed in the viewport like a jagged crown of blackened steel, orbiting a fractured moon. Lightning storms crackled in the gas giant below, painting the station's scarred hull in flashes of blue-white light.
Kael brought the hauler in on a slow approach, fingers dancing over the controls. Jarek stayed in the co-pilot seat, watching as docking clamps extended like rusted claws.
The comm pinged.
"Docking fee's doubled since last cycle," a rough voice crackled through. "Transfer 15,000 e-credits or go find another hole to crawl into."
Kael cursed under her breath and glanced at him. "You paying?"
Jarek didn't hesitate. The faster they got inside, the less chance of being tracked in open space. He pushed the transfer through.
> [Transaction complete.]
Rebate multiplier: 3×.]
Refund: 45,000 e-credits.]
Balance updated: 97,000 e-credits.]
Kael froze when the notification ping sounded on her console. "What… how—?"
"Later," he muttered.
The clamps bit into the hauler's hull with a heavy thud. The docking tube extended, sealing with a hiss. The airlock opened to a smell Jarek knew too well — stale sweat, engine grease, and the faint metallic tang of recycled air gone sour.
Blackridge's docking bay was chaos. Ships in various states of disrepair sat crammed wingtip to wingtip. Mechanics yelled over the whine of welding torches. Traders hauled crates of questionable goods on antigrav sleds.
But under the noise and motion, there was an edge — a watchfulness. Eyes tracking newcomers. Hands resting casually near concealed weapons.
Kael stepped out first, shoulders squared, scanning the crowd. Jarek followed, plasma pistol holstered but within easy reach.
The System flickered another notification into his vision:
> [Luck Event Triggered.]
Spend at least 20,000 e-credits within the next 10 minutes. Reward: Random Item.]
Jarek felt his jaw tighten. That wasn't a request. The timer began ticking down in the corner of his HUD.
Kael didn't notice — she was already haggling with a dockhand over fuel rates.
Jarek scanned the bay for ways to burn twenty thousand without drawing too much attention. Weapons stalls, cybernetic upgrades, illicit data markets… plenty of options, but each carried its own risks.
His gaze settled on a weapons merchant — a heavyset man with cybernetic arms, selling crates of military-grade gear.
Jarek approached, eyes flicking over the inventory. A polished shock rifle caught his attention. Sleek, deadly, expensive.
"How much?"
"Twenty flat," the man rumbled. "Comes with one spare cell."
Perfect. He sent the transfer without a word.
> [Transaction complete.]
Rebate multiplier: 2×.]
Refund: 40,000 e-credits.]
Balance updated: 117,000 e-credits.]
[Luck Event complete. Reward: Unknown Item.]
A small, black-wrapped package materialized in his hands, weightless for a second before reality seemed to settle on it.
The merchant blinked. "That wasn't from me."
Jarek didn't answer. He peeled back the wrapping to reveal… a silver coin. No markings, no mint, just a smooth, perfect surface.
> [Item: Quantum Marker.]
Function: Redeemable for one guaranteed safe escape from any location.]
Limitations: One use only.]
His heart rate spiked. This wasn't just useful. It was survival, distilled.
Kael's voice cut through his thoughts. "We've got company."
He turned. Three men were moving through the crowd, Brass Fang tattoos crawling up their necks. They weren't charging, not yet. Just closing in.
"They followed us here," she hissed.
"Looks like it." His hand brushed the pistol grip. "You got somewhere we can disappear?"
Kael's eyes flicked to the weapon stalls, then to the narrow alley between cargo towers. "Yeah. But it's going to cost."
"How much?"
"Ten for a crew I know to stall them. Fifteen if you want them to make it permanent."
He transferred 15,000 e-credits before she finished speaking.
> [Transaction complete.]
Rebate multiplier: 3×.]
Refund: 45,000 e-credits.]
Balance updated: 147,000 e-credits.]
Kael's wrist comm buzzed. She muttered into it in a language he didn't recognize, then jerked her chin toward the alley.
They slipped into the shadows, weaving through stacked crates and inactive loader mechs. Behind them, the dock noise shifted — shouts, the crash of overturned equipment.
Kael smirked faintly. "Sounds like they're earning their pay."
Jarek didn't relax. He'd seen too many "permanent" solutions unravel. The Brass Fangs had reach, and Blackridge was a nest of opportunists.
When they emerged into a quieter service corridor, Kael leaned against the wall. "Alright, time for answers. Who are you, and why does every credit you spend come back triple?"
He hesitated. Telling her about the System felt like peeling back his armor. But she'd already seen enough to be dangerous.
"It's… a thing I woke up with. A program, maybe. Every time I spend money, I get a rebate — the amount depends on my luck. Sometimes I get items. Sometimes missions. Sometimes…" He trailed off.
"Sometimes trouble," she finished for him. "And your luck stat?"
"One."
She laughed once, sharp. "That explains why we're still breathing. You're either blessed or cursed."
"Maybe both," he said, pocketing the Quantum Marker.
Kael pushed off the wall. "Well, cursed or not, you've got credits. And credits open doors here. If you're smart, you'll use them to buy allies. If you're stupid…" Her gaze flicked toward the noise of distant fighting. "…you'll run out of both credits and time."
Jarek smiled faintly. "Good thing I'm smart."