Streams of energy ore rolled steadily into the cargo bays of the Hyperion. Lift-crawlers, drones, and Marvin-class loaders worked in silence, their movements efficient, synchronized, and tireless.
Silas Vire watched from the observation deck. He didn't smile often—but today, the corner of his mouth curved upward.
This haul would keep the Hyperion running through its first major journey. He had fuel. He had shielding. He had predators in stasis.
Now, he needed only one more thing: capital.
Across from him, Commander Rourke—stationmaster of Pluto Outpost—stood watching the same procession of glowing crates.
Internally, Rourke was still recovering.
The shipment they'd just transferred was worth hundreds of millions of stellar credits. Energy ore, in these quantities, was a military-grade asset. And it was now fueling a rogue S-Class dreadnought under the command of a newly minted independent voyager.
Most captains started their careers praying they'd avoid pirates long enough to secure a trade route.
Silas Vire had hunted them.
He'd turned the predator-prey paradigm inside out.
"You're a rare sort," Rourke admitted. "In all my years overseeing outpost traffic, I've never seen a new captain pull off something like this."
"Most captains are busy hiding from pirates," he added. "You used yourself as bait."
Silas didn't reply. He didn't need to.
The outcome had spoken loud enough for everyone.
Rourke finished his drink and set the glass down. "You'll be famous soon. I don't doubt it. Just remember—nothing travels faster than reputation in the Starsea. That blade cuts both ways."
With that, he left.
Silas turned back to the strategic display and called up his next objective: funding.
The Hyperion was vast. But it wasn't self-sustaining.
Energy? Secured—for now.
Ship? Irreplaceable.
But wealth… that would determine how long he could remain autonomous.
He tapped the console. "Options?"
A new voice answered.
[Advisor Mode Engaged]
[Recommended income stream: Open-zone asset recovery. Target: Golden Spiral Tradepost – Alpha Sector, Gamma Quadrant]
The Golden Spiral. A half-legal trading nexus buried deep in neutral space. Ruled not by laws, but by wealth. Smugglers, salvagers, information brokers, rogue merchants, and corporate ghosts all passed through it.
According to the system map, it lay five galaxies away. His first stop: Arcturus, in the Proxima Centauri system.
Silas adjusted his route, cross-checked jump coordinates, and secured atmospheric permissions.
[Jump Point Locked – Arcturus]
[Calibrating Interstellar Tunnel Vectors]
[Initiating Primary Jump Core]
He secured himself in the grav-chair as the systems engaged. The hull began to hum. Overhead, the stars folded inward, and the void collapsed into a streaking corridor of distorted color.
The Hyperion vanished from the edge of the solar system—leaving behind fire, fear, and a silence that buzzed with a hundred unanswered questions.
One minute later, the cruiser emerged on the other side of the jump.
[Jump Complete – Core Cooling]
[Sector: Proxima Centauri – Arcturus Vector]
In the viewport, an emerald-green world rotated in the starlight. Covered in thick jungle, untamed forests, and bioactive flora, Arcturus was a known rest point for voyagers.
An ungoverned world of prehistoric beauty and subtle danger.
Its one law? No interference with planetary evolution.
As Silas guided the Hyperion into low orbit, he watched the verdant surface resolve into miles of towering trees and ridgelines. Massive creatures, saurian in structure and movement, stampeded across open clearings.
Even from orbit, their size was staggering.
Below, the jungle rippled with ancient life—untouched, unsupervised, thriving.
"Beautiful," Silas murmured.
Then he frowned.
"Also incredibly hostile."
He opened his wrist console and gave a single command.
[Activate Predator Deployment Protocol]
[Status: 1,000 Predators – Dormant]
[Commencing Revival Sequence…]
From the lower decks of the Hyperion, hissed air and hydraulic systems stirred. One by one, black-armored figures stood upright in stasis pods, optics glowing a soft crimson.
Seven feet tall. Bio-reactive composite plating. Adaptive targeting AI. Zero hesitation.
Engineered for one thing: planetary dominance.
[Predators Active. Awaiting Orders.]
Silas nodded.
"Prepare surface scouting units. I want raw protein, native flora, and terrain mapping. Deploy twelve squads. Standard leash range. Minimal ecological disruption."
[Acknowledged.]
From the underbelly of the Hyperion, stealth drop-pods launched into the jungle canopy, scattering like metal seeds falling to earth.
Down below, a herd of armored megafauna crashed through the ferns. Birds the size of interceptors burst from trees as the ground trembled.
And from the shadows… the Predators arrived.
Silas watched from orbit, arms crossed.
He wasn't just passing through.
He was laying foundations.
The voyage to the Golden Spiral would require resources, currency, and intelligence.
And it started here.
In the wild lungs of an unclaimed world.