The bridge of the Apex Horizon, the new command flagship, was a sanctuary of silent, climate-controlled power. Holographic screens floated in the air, streaming market data, trade routes, and security reports from dozens of systems. At the center of it all stood Alexandre—whose player name, Enlil, now felt far too large for him—staring at a compilation of data that was making him feel sick.
They were reports about the Black Ladybug.
Taken individually, they were just incidents. Piracy was a constant. But together, they formed a pattern—a melody that was terrifyingly familiar.
First came the attack on a rival faction's supply convoy. The report stated that the lead ship had its engines disabled with surgical precision, causing it to collide with the second. The third was destroyed in the resulting explosion. A chain reaction. Alexandre felt a chill crawl up his spine. He remembered Ishtar laughing in his ear years ago during a simulation. They're dominoes, Alex. You don't need to knock them all down. Just the first one. He dismissed it as a coincidence. A clever tactic, nothing more.
Then came the report of a mining operation belonging to the Krait Guild being sabotaged. A single, insignificant ship lured the escort fleet into a dense debris field, then vanished. Lost and blind, their sensors useless, the Krait fighters could only watch helplessly as a local pirate clan—coincidentally operating in the area—descended on the defenseless mining barges. Bile rose in Alexandre's throat. He knew that move. Ishtar used to call it Feeding the Dogs.
The last report was the worst.
The elimination of a target in Finite Space. The Black Ladybug didn't just destroy the ship. She crippled it, fried its life-support systems, and forced the pilot to eject—placing the escape pod directly in the path of a programmed waste-cleanup drone patrol. It wasn't a death. It was an execution, with an unnecessary, cruel flourish. It was a signature.
Cold sweat beaded on Alexandre's forehead. The ship was a joke. The tactics belonged to a legend. The precision, the use of the environment, the sheer arrogance behind the kill… this wasn't like Ishtar.
It was Ishtar.
The ghost was real.
At that moment, Ninsun entered the bridge, moving with the confidence of someone who owned every photon of holographic light in the room. She saw the look on Alexandre's face—the pallor of his skin, the way his eyes were locked on the screen yet saw nothing.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, Alex," she said, her voice smooth, an edge hidden beneath it.
He startled, hastily minimizing the display. "Nothing. Just… analyzing revenue losses in Sector Seven. This 'Black Ladybug' is becoming a problem," he lied. The lie sounded weak even to his own ears.
Ninsun didn't glance at the screen. Her eyes stayed on him. "A problem? Or a memory?"
Panic flickered in Alexandre's eyes—and Ninsun saw it. She knew that look. It was the same one he'd worn years ago, emerging from yet another simulation where Ishtar had tactically humiliated him. The look of a man who knew he was facing a superior intellect.
She smiled—a gesture that never reached her eyes. "Relax, dear. It's just an insignificant pirate in a junk ship. We'll take care of it."
She turned and left the bridge, leaving him to stew in his fear. But her smile vanished the moment the doors slid shut.
Alexandre's weakness was a complication. His fear, his hesitation, his lingering reverence for Ishtar's memory—they were liabilities she could no longer afford. Her plan had been slow, methodical consolidation: absorbing smaller guilds, solidifying political power. But the existence of this ghost was poisoning her most valuable asset—her second-in-command.
The Black Ladybug was no longer a logistical nuisance. It was an existential threat to her authority and to the control she held over Alexandre. The creature had to be crushed. Not quietly. Publicly. In a display so spectacular that no one would ever dare whisper the name Ishtar again.
In her private quarters, Ninsun opened a new strategic planning window. The slow game was over. It was time to accelerate. Time for the Apex to remind the galaxy why they were the predators—and not the prey. The hunt was no longer about a pirate.
It was about erasing a legend.