“Strange,” said Cha, squinting upward. “And I don’t like strange.” The marines dealt with the prospect of danger and death with crude, defiant humor. ‘Sick shit’ is what they called the wavy semi-planet wide ecosystem, and it endeared them to Linuka even more. Yet the Remnants’ insistence that humans scout the surface first made it clear: this green world was beautiful, yes—but also dangerous.

“I never ripped apart a paying customer, but you could be the first,” hissed the Traaz skipper. Linuka kept her voice calm. “Let’s talk this through.” Around them, the Dark AIs’ empty hangar loomed—silent, airless, and waiting to see who would make the first move.

“Skipper says he can’t count all the weapon systems locked on us,” said Linuka Omga. A lone freighter, no fleet escort, drifting toward a Remnant battle cruiser. One misstep, and they’d be nothing but wreckage. Yet when the airlock opens and the Dark AI core hovers inside, dread gives way to something stranger—possibility.