Bridge lights stay low after the escape, warning text still pulsing across cracked monitors. Coolant mist skates over the deck, and the Amber Wing hums with the aftershock of repairs.
A hard ping cuts through comms, then every screen jumps to a damaged salvage skiff wobbling near a gravity well. Its hull bears fresh scars, and its drive plume burns unevenly.
Serafina
Amber Wing, you still alive? Good. I am Serafina, and I have something that belongs to your crew.
Serafina
Before you get clever, my ship is leaking atmosphere and that well is not patient. I can trade, or I can drift away with it.
On the feed, a calm-faced salvager braces in a torn seat web, one hand on a cracked console, the other pointing toward a sealed crate lashed behind her. Her expression says she has done this dance before.
Serafina
You want the crate, you give me a tow or a clean corridor out. Your call, engineer.
✓ Quest Accepted
Rescue Serafina from the gravity well
✓ Quest Accepted
Secure the sealed crate
“Who is this guy?”
SUCCESS (Fair Xeno-Linguistics, rolled +0)
The comms feed sharpens on the cracked monitor, and Nahuli’s reply lands in the salvage skiff’s local band. Serafina’s voice flickers, then steadies long enough to catch the words and the accent behind them.
Nahuli
Who are you?
Serafina
Serafina. Salvager, scavenger, and the woman your crew is about to owe if you want that crate in one piece.
Serafina
I pulled the crate off a dead haul line three jumps back. The mark on it says corporate, but the seal code says somebody paid to hide it.
Onscreen, she tips the cracked console with two fingers and gives the box behind her a quick, tired glance, like she is checking whether it is worth the trouble all over again.
Serafina
You want names, ask fast. I am burning reaction mass just to stay off the well, and my margin is getting ugly.
The bridge falls quiet except for the low hum of damaged systems, and the salvage skiff drifts in full view of the gravity well, waiting on Nahuli’s answer.
“I have no interest in corp tech.”
SUCCESS (Superb Diplomacy, rolled +2)
Nahuli
I have no interest in corp tech.
Serafina
Good. That makes this easier.
Serafina
I am not selling a brand name, I am selling what is inside the crate, and the crate is the only thing keeping it from becoming drift scrap.
Serafina
You sound like someone who knows the difference between a useful box and a cursed one.
Her skiff rocks in the comm feed as she shifts her weight, one hand braced on the console, eyes flicking once toward the cargo behind her.
Serafina
If you can tow me clear, I will tell you what I pulled, who hid it, and why somebody is still willing to burn mass to keep it from landing on a station table.
On the bridge, the cracked monitor throws cold light across Lahani’s face while the coolant mist crawls over the deck. The skiff hangs in the gravity well, waiting on a decision, and Serafina leaves the offer open.
“Fly away”
SUCCESS (Superb Piloting, rolled -2)
Nahuli opens the throttle and the Amber Wing answers cleanly, sliding free of the gravity well’s drag. The comm image of Serafina and her drifting skiff shrinks as distance takes over, and the tow offer drops away with it.
The drive buffer complains with a sharp, practical chirp. Coolant mist lashes sideways across the deck as the acceleration settles in, and the bridge lighting steadies on the new course.
Lahani
We are out of her pull.
Serafina
So that is your answer. Fine. I keep the crate, you keep your distance.
Her skiff hangs behind on the monitor, now just another small, stubborn speck near the well. The Amber Wing keeps moving, and the sealed crate stays on the other ship.
The captain’s old amusement flickers in the bridge reflections, half memory, half habit, as the crew’s choice lands in the quiet after the burn.