Chapter 8: The Supply Run

Korax Station floated in the no-man's-land between Dominion space and the Free Worlds Alliance—a massive trading hub where nobody asked questions and everybody carried weapons. Three million permanent residents, fifty times that many transients on any given day, and enough criminal activity to make Haven look like a monastery.

"We need to be careful here," Jax said as the *Requiem* approached under minimal power, her void signature dampened to near-invisibility. "Korax is technically neutral, but the Empire has informants everywhere. Our faces might already be on wanted lists."

"Then we don't show our faces." Kira adjusted the hooded cloak she'd found in the ship's surprisingly well-stocked wardrobe. "Malik and I will handle the main supply run. You and Zeph stay with the ship."

"I should be the one going," Jax protested. "I know this station. I've done business here before."

"Which means people know you." Kira met his eyes levelly. "I'm still anonymous—just another smuggler passing through. And Malik's appearance is generic enough to blend in with the local muscle."

"Generic?" Malik raised an eyebrow. "I'm six-four and covered in ritual tattoos."

"Trust me, on Korax that's practically invisible."

Voss would be staying aboard as well, deep in her study of the *Requiem's* archives. The old scientist had barely emerged from the research lab since their departure from Haven, driven by decades of pent-up curiosity finally finding answers.

"I've compiled a list," she'd said, handing Kira a data slate. "Essential supplies, equipment we'll need for the Expanse journey, and contacts who might help. Some of them owe me favors from my academic days."

The *Requiem* docked in one of Korax's more disreputable hangar bays—the kind where they charged extra for not asking about your cargo and triple that for not remembering you were ever there. Kira felt the ship's reluctance to be left alone in such a place.

*We will be watching*, it promised. *If you need us, we will come.*

"Stay hidden. Don't reveal yourself unless absolutely necessary."

*Understood. Be careful, little pilot. These places breed danger.*

Korax's interior was everything Kira had expected and worse. Cramped corridors reeking of recycled air and unwashed bodies, vendors hawking everything from food to weapons to companionship, security patrols that existed mainly to collect bribes. The station's design was haphazard—sections from different eras welded together without concern for aesthetics or safety.

Malik moved beside her, somehow making his massive frame less threatening through posture alone. He'd done this before, Kira realized. Made himself invisible through sheer presence.

"First stop," she said quietly, checking the data slate. "Medical supplies. There's a dealer on level seven who Voss says can be trusted."

They navigated the crowded corridors, passing through markets where anything could be bought for the right price. Weapons dealers displaying enough firepower to arm a small army. Drug merchants offering oblivion in a hundred different forms. And everywhere, the desperate faces of people who had nowhere else to go.

The Dominion's prosperity, Kira realized, was built on places like this. The margins where the unwanted accumulated, serving the needs of the privileged few who never had to see them.

The medical supplier was a wizened man named Keth who operated from a shop barely larger than a closet. His eyes were sharp despite his age, taking in Kira and Malik with professional assessment.

"Voss sent you?" His voice was dry and rough, worn down by something.

"She said you could supply a deep-space expedition. Medical equipment, pharmaceutical stocks, emergency trauma kits."

Keth studied them for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "How deep are we talking?"

"Deep enough that we won't be finding help if something goes wrong."

"Expanse run." It wasn't a question. Keth began pulling items from hidden shelves, each movement precise despite his apparent frailty. "Been a while since anyone came through asking for that kind of package. Last one was..." He trailed off, something haunted crossing his face. "Never mind. Old memories."

"What happened?"

"They didn't come back." Keth stacked supplies on his counter. "Nobody comes back from deep Expanse runs. The void eats them, or the Empire catches them, or they just... disappear."

"We're going to be different."

"That's what they all say." But something in his eyes suggested he wanted to believe it. "Here's your basics. For the specialized stuff, you'll need to talk to the Alchemist on level twelve. Tell her Keth sent you—she'll charge you triple, but the equipment will actually work."

They paid—credits were one thing the *Requiem* seemed to generate easily, its ancient systems somehow still interfacing with the modern financial network—and moved on.

The Alchemist turned out to be a woman so heavily augmented that Kira couldn't tell where flesh ended and machine began. Her workshop was a maze of half-finished projects and mysterious devices, and she spoke in rapid-fire technical jargon that only Malik's translator implants could follow.

"Void exposure mitigation gear," she said, eyes gleaming with interest. "Now that's a challenge. The standard Navy suits are garbage—designed to minimize contact, not survive extended exposure." She began pulling equipment from storage bins. "I've been working on alternatives. Theoretical, mostly, but if you're actually going deep..."

"We're going all the way."

The Alchemist paused, her mechanical eye whirring as it focused on Kira.

"The Throne? You're trying to reach the Throne?"

"You know about it?"

"Everyone in the deep research community knows about it. The ultimate destination. The place where everything started." She resumed gathering equipment, her movements faster now. "I always hoped someone would actually try. After what the Empire did to our programs..."

"You worked for them?"

"Twenty years as a void exposure researcher. Until I published findings they didn't like." She held up a hand, showing where metal merged seamlessly with skin. "They took my career, my reputation, and most of my original body. I took their proprietary designs and came here to finish what they wouldn't let me start."

By the time they left the Alchemist's workshop, they had a crate of equipment that would have cost a fortune through legitimate channels and was worth considerably more on the black market. Protective suits designed to interface with void energy rather than block it. Monitoring systems that could track psychological degradation before it became critical. And prototypes of something the Alchemist called "anchor points"—devices that supposedly helped maintain mental stability during extended void exposure.

"We're burning through credits," Malik observed as they hauled the crate toward the food market. "At this rate, we'll need to find income soon."

"The *Requiem* might have suggestions." Kira adjusted her grip on the crate. "Ancient ship, ancient archives—there might be information about caches, hidden resources."

"Or we could do what everyone else in the Fringe does." Malik's voice was carefully neutral. "Take jobs. The kind that pay well and don't ask questions."

"Smuggling? Theft?"

"Whatever keeps us flying. I know it's not what you're used to, Commander, but out here the rules are different."

Kira thought about it as they navigated the food vendors, selecting rations that would survive months of storage. The Navy had strict regulations about operating outside legal channels. But the Navy had also tried to hollow out her mind and was probably still hunting her.

"We'll do what we have to," she said finally. "But we pick our jobs carefully. No exploitation, no innocent victims. We're not becoming the thing we're fighting against."

"Agreed." Malik sounded relieved. "Some of us have enough sins already."

They were halfway back to the hangar when trouble found them.

Three men blocked the corridor ahead—hard-faced, well-armed, wearing the casual arrogance of people used to getting what they wanted. Behind them, two more had appeared, cutting off retreat.

"That's a nice pile of supplies you've got there," the leader said, his smile revealing metal teeth. "Shame to haul all that weight yourself. We could help lighten your load."

Kira set down her end of the crate, feeling Malik do the same. Five against two—bad odds, especially in close quarters where the *Requiem's* weapons couldn't help.

"We're not looking for trouble," she said calmly.

"Nobody's looking for trouble. Trouble just happens." Metal-teeth gestured to his crew. "The way I see it, you've got two choices. You can hand over those supplies voluntarily, walk away with your health intact. Or..."

He drew a blade that crackled with energy.

"Option two is messier."

Kira assessed the situation. The thugs were confident, which meant they'd done this before. Probably had the local security paid off, or at least looking the other way. Fighting would attract attention she didn't want. But surrendering the supplies would set back their mission by weeks.

"There's a third option," she said.

Before anyone could react, she reached out with her void sense—something she'd barely begun to understand, an instinct more than a skill. The corridor around them seemed to shimmer, reality growing thin as she touched the dimension beneath.

The thugs felt it. They didn't know what they were feeling, but something primal in their brains recognized danger that transcended physical threat.

Metal-teeth's smile faltered. "What the hell..."

"I'm giving you a chance to walk away." Kira's voice was quiet, but it carried power she hadn't known she possessed. "Take it."

For a long moment, nobody moved.

Then Metal-teeth lowered his blade. His face had gone pale, and his hands were shaking.

"We don't want trouble either," he said, the bravado drained from his voice. "Just... just forget we were here."

They melted back into the corridor's shadows, leaving Kira and Malik alone with their supplies.

"That was new," Malik said after a pause. "The void thing you did."

"I didn't really do anything." Kira stared at her hands, which still tingled with residual energy. "I just... reached out. Made them feel what's inside me."

"Whatever you did, it worked." Malik picked up his end of the crate. "Let's get out of here before you have to do it again."

They made it back to the hangar without further incident, though Kira caught glimpses of people watching from the shadows—word spreading that there was someone on Korax Station who wasn't to be trifled with.

The *Requiem* welcomed them with a wash of relief.

*You are unharmed. We sensed... disturbance.*

"Just some locals testing their luck." Kira guided the crate into the cargo bay. "They decided to look elsewhere."

*Your abilities are growing. We can feel them expanding, reaching further into the void.* The ship's mental voice was approving. *Soon you will be ready for the deeper paths.*

"How soon is soon?"

*That depends on how quickly you learn to trust yourself.*

On the bridge, Jax was monitoring local communications, his expression grim.

"We need to leave," he said as soon as Kira entered. "Now."

"What happened?"

"Imperial destroyer just docked on the other side of the station. They're running identity checks on all outgoing vessels, and the news feeds are talking about a 'dangerous fugitive' believed to be in the area." He pulled up an image on the main display—Kira's Navy portrait, her face rendered in wanted-poster clarity.

"They know I'm here."

"They suspect. Which means it's time to be somewhere else."

Kira felt the *Requiem* already powering up, its systems responding to her unspoken urgency.

"Get everyone strapped in. We're not using the main departure lanes."

"Then how—"

"We're going to do something the Dominion thinks is impossible." Kira settled into the pilot's chair, feeling the ship's consciousness merge with hers. "We're going to jump from inside the station."

Jax's face went pale. "That's insane. The gravitational interference alone—"

"The *Requiem* can handle it. Trust me."

She reached out to the void, feeling it respond to her call. The station's metal walls were just matter—and matter was nothing to a dimension that existed between all things.

*Are you certain?* the ship asked. *This will reveal our capabilities to anyone observing.*

"Better than getting caught." Kira felt the crew bracing throughout the vessel, felt the void opening to embrace them. "Let's show them what three thousand years of evolution looks like."

The *Stardust Requiem* vanished from Korax Station. It was just gone—leaving questions, rumors, and an Imperial destroyer that arrived at the empty hangar bay with nothing to show for it.

In the void between dimensions, Kira laughed.