Chapter 4 - Ayden
All of us trained under Master Haruki’s painfully rigorous instruction.
That sort of shared trauma builds strong friendships, apparently.
Since graduation, we’ve been traveling the galaxy in pairs.
But whenever we get the chance to reconnect—even for something as “crucial” as a birthday party—we don’t hesitate. Not for a second.
The plan was to relax. Recharge. Maybe drink something that glows.
Instead… we got sabotage.
Turns out, some permanent resident on this station has been messing with the infrastructure. We’ve been trying to track them down ever since. The atmosphere around here is tense—every crew member is one bad spark away from a meltdown, afraid the next system failure could be catastrophic.
This morning, Vlad and I are inspecting the air filtration controls when an explosion rocks the station.
We're thrown hard against the composite walls. The lights flicker once, then vanish. Total blackout.
Then the emergency lights kick in, painting everything in this moody red haze. Like we’re inside a haunted escape room, but with actual death stakes.
“Vlad, you okay?” I ask, spotting him sprawled on the floor.
“Yep, all good!” he answers, brushing himself off. “Just doing a very close inspection of the floor. Impeccable. No complaints.”
“Still as thorough as ever, huh?”
“You know me—never half-ass anything,” he grins. “But I have no idea what that was. We need to find the source before something worse happens.”
“We’re just next door to the base control room,” I say, pointing down the hallway. “Let’s move.”
“Think the others are okay?” he asks, and there’s a rare note of worry in his voice.
“Please. They’re probably sipping synth-caf and arguing over who gets the top bunk. Let’s handle this side of things. They’ll be fine—they’re way on the other end of the complex.”
Of course, I know who he’s really thinking about: Igor, his partner. Same way I’m already worried about Logan.
Earlier this morning, four of our crew headed to the north sector to update their universal translator implants.
Vlad and I stayed back to poke around the HQ.
The others had to go under light anesthesia for the procedure, which is why they left their holo-comms—short-range wrist communicators—in our quarters. Reaching them now isn’t an option.
“You’re right,” Vlad says. “They’ll have to manage without us for once. Let’s go.”
We head for the command center, alert for signs of further damage. We don’t even know where the explosion originated. Every sound, every creak in the walls, makes my hand inch closer to my weapon.
When we reach the command room, we find the entry system dead. The door, which should dematerialize as we approach, stays stubbornly shut.
Vlad, never the patient type, pounds on it with both fists.
“Dammit! They’re locked inside!”
“Not necessarily. Remember, all doors like this have manual overrides. We just have to find the emergency panel.”
“Yeah, great—on a perfectly smooth wall. That’ll be fun.”
We run our hands along the exterior, frustration mounting—until suddenly, a section of the wall vanishes.
Standing in its place is a tall, blonde woman, looking annoyed and armed.
“Whoa. Hi there, gorgeous,” Vlad says with his trademark grin. “Guessing you triggered the manual override from inside?”
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” she snaps, raising her pistoblaster and aiming it squarely at his chest.
“Easy there, stun-gun Barbie,” Vlad says, hands up. “We’re the good guys. Promise. Would be very grateful if you didn’t vaporize me.”
“I’ll ask one more time: who are you and what’s your purpose here?”
She’s Human, like us—but clearly not buying Vlad’s charm. Not that I blame her. Now is not the time for flirting, especially with a saboteur loose on the station.
“Agents Vlad and Ayden, Special Unit, Intergalactic Confederation,” I say evenly. “We’re investigating the recent sabotage events.”
“Oh, well done,” she says dryly. “Because clearly, things are going great around here. Come on in. Try not to break anything else.”
Vlad smirks as we follow her inside.
“Well hey, at least this time we’re not the ones causing the explosion,” he whispers.
The blonde rolls her eyes hard enough to create wind.
“Wonderful. Comedians. Just what we needed,” she mutters. “Follow me. Try not to blow anything up.”
We step into the command center with a blaster still aimed at us. I’ve had warmer welcomes.
“Administrator? I found these two trying to force their way in,” the blonde announces, voice colder than the station walls.
“Ah—Ayden! And, Logan?” asks Administrator Akura, stepping forward.
“Vlad, actually, at your service!” my friend corrects, shooting a suggestive look at the woman he was trying to charm.
Even with the tension in the room, I have to smile.
Classic Vlad—flirting in the middle of a crisis.
Honestly? Can’t blame him. Most of us are in our early twenties, bouncing around the frozen vacuum of space for most of the year.
When you cross paths with an actual living, breathing human—especially one who doesn’t immediately shoot you—you make the most of it.
“It’s fine, Melissa,” Akura says, waving her off. “They’re here on my request. And you’re just in time. Come, let me bring you up to speed.”
Vlad shifts back to business mode and joins us at the console.
“The AI registered an explosion of unknown origin in Sector 6. Protocol requires keeping the main systems offline until we identify and control the cause. I’ve reactivated command functions here and in the medical wing only.”
“Any idea what damage we’re looking at?” I ask.
“No. We won’t know until we reach the site. What we do know is that it originated just past the northern quarters—Sector 7 and beyond.”
I glance at Vlad. He’s already thinking what I’m thinking.
That’s where our friends are.
“What can we do to help?” I ask.
“You’ll need to get through Sector 6, evacuate any survivors to the medical zone, then push onward. Power’s down, so air filtration’s offline. They’re in the dark—and running out of breathable air. AI, how much time do we have?”
“Administrator,” the AI responds in that oddly polite, emotionless tone, “that depends on the specific rooms. I assume you’re referring to those disabled by the incident?”
“Correct. Use the last saved status from just before the explosion. You must know how many people were present.”
“There were three individuals in 6A, five in 6B, and one in 6C. Probability of survival: 0.02%. All sections were sealed by automatic partitions. Attention should be focused on adjoining zones—Sectors 5 and 7. Survivors are more likely in Sectors 4 through 1. I will send detailed occupant lists to the console.”
“AI,” I say, “where’s the neural implant update room?”
“Administrator, may I respond?” the AI asks, following protocol.
“Yes, answer any questions from Vlad and Ayden until further notice,” Akura confirms.
“The implant update room is in 5C. It housed six Humans at the time of the explosion—two station staff and four patients in transit.”
Vlad turns to me, his face tense. Same thought. Same fear.
Logan and the others are in there. Way too close to the blast zone.
“We’re going,” he says. At the exact same time as I do.
“AI, what can you tell us about that specific room?” I ask.
“Room 5C measures approximately twelve square meters, with standard ceiling height—yielding a volume of thirty cubic meters. With six occupants, air becomes toxic after approximately two and a half hours. Faster, if physical activity or temperature increases. Regular ventilation is recommended.”
“So we’ve got less than two hours to get there and fix this,” I say. Not ideal.
Melissa leans over the console, reading the AI’s latest data.
“Sector 5 includes a lab and two storage rooms—six people total. Sector 4 is laundry—currently empty. Sectors 3 and 1 are rec rooms facing the void, and Sector 2 is the cafeteria. Around twenty people are stranded beyond Sector 6.”
“Oscar will get you respirator masks and accompany you,” Akura says, shifting into command mode. “You’ll report in real time so we can walk you through any critical adjustments. Melissa, show them the way while I handle the rest of the station and deploy teams to sweep every corner.”
Melissa gives us both a wary glance but nods. A tall man with deep brown skin approaches, carrying three helmets.
“These will keep you breathing and in touch,” Oscar says, his voice deep and calm. “Oxygen levels, air pressure, and temperature will display inside the visor.”
Vlad grabs his with a wink. “Thanks, Oscar. Looks like you’re our guardian angel today.”
Melissa rolls her eyes again, but this time—just maybe—there’s the tiniest hint of a smirk.
She turns to me, expression serious again. “Be careful. We still don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
I nod, adjusting the mask over my face.
“We’ll keep you posted,” I say, testing the comm connection.
Akura nods and returns to her team. Oscar hands us a sleek tablet.
“Map of the station,” he explains. “Navigation’s frozen in the damaged sectors, so we’ll be winging it.”
Vlad lifts an eyebrow. “So… a fancy tablet that doesn’t work? I love a challenge.”
Melissa doesn’t even crack a smile.
“The explosion took out the main circuits,” she says. “You’ll need to find the backup generator and reboot it manually. Be careful—the zone’s unstable.”
“I plan to come back in one piece, sweetheart,” Vlad says. “And I think a post-crisis dinner date would help me recover from the trauma.”
Melissa doesn’t even blink. Just turns to me, waiting for someone more serious to acknowledge the mission.
I give a nod, take the tablet, and pull up the static map.
“Got it. Let’s move.”