Jack discovered frontier salvage law was approximately seventy percent paperwork and thirty percent people trying to cheat each other politely.
Athena found this hilarious.
"I warned you civilization would be complicated."
"You specifically said 'mildly irritating.'"
"I was being optimistic."
Jack stood inside Vandar Station's Salvage and Claims Bureau while a tired clerk attempted to process the existence of the Steady Hand without developing a medical condition.
The office itself resembled every overworked administrative center in existence:
- aging terminals,
- stacked data slates,
- exhausted personnel,
- stale recycled air,
- and coffee strong enough to dissolve hull sealant.
Aria lounged against the rear wall watching the process with open amusement.
Nessa stood beside her with considerably more dignity.
The clerk adjusted his glasses for the fourth time in two minutes.
"Captain Al'Trades… your submitted salvage claim includes:
- three pirate vessels,
- recovered armaments,
- encrypted databanks,
- illegal supply routing data,
- black-market fuel transfer records,
- and approximately forty-two million credits in associated material valuation."
"Yes."
The man stared at the terminal.
"You filed all of it correctly."
"Yes."
The clerk looked personally betrayed by that fact.
"That's suspicious."
Nessa coughed suddenly into one hand.
Aria looked away before she laughed out loud.
Jack remained perfectly calm.
"I read the regulations."
"That usually makes things worse."
Athena's hologram appeared beside the claims terminal.
"In his defense, your regulations are reasonably structured."
The clerk nearly jumped.
"You can't just appear like that."
"I absolutely can."
Aria lost the battle and laughed openly.
The poor clerk rubbed his forehead.
"This station was calmer before you people arrived."
"No it wasn't," Aria said immediately. "You just knew where the chaos was before."
"That is not comforting."
"It's not supposed to be."
Nessa finally intervened before the conversation drifted entirely off course.
"The claims themselves are legitimate," she said calmly. "I reviewed the combat telemetry personally."
The clerk looked at her shoulder insignia immediately.
Recognition.
Gold-ranked mercenary pilots carried reputational weight in frontier systems.
He relaxed slightly.
Not much.
But enough.
"That helps," he admitted.
Athena tilted her head.
"Interesting."
Jack glanced toward her.
"Social trust layering," Athena explained. "Localized credential recognition inside decentralized frontier systems."
The clerk blinked twice.
Aria pointed at Athena. "You are such a nerd."
"Yes."
"She says that affectionately," Nessa clarified.
"I inferred that."
Jack suspected Athena enjoyed these conversations far too much.
---
Three floors above the Salvage Bureau, Coalition Intelligence was having a considerably worse morning.
Vice-Director Halden stared at the recovered pirate logistics web projected across the briefing chamber with growing unease.
The data itself was troubling enough.
The source was worse.
A super-dreadnought-sized independent vessel had entered Coalition frontier space, dismantled a pirate operation with absurd efficiency, then casually handed over cleaner intelligence than most Coalition anti-piracy divisions managed in six months.
That was embarrassing.
Potentially useful.
But deeply embarrassing.
One analyst highlighted a transaction cluster.
"These routing patterns are professionally compartmentalized."
"Yes," Halden replied.
"Not pirate-built."
"No."
Another analyst shifted the projection toward the fragmented black geometric insignia recovered from encrypted files.
"Still no positive identification."
Halden frowned.
"Cross-reference Ashborn proxy groups again."
"Already did."
"Then do it better."
The analyst wisely chose not to respond to that.
A younger intelligence officer spoke carefully from the rear of the chamber.
"Sir… what if Captain Al'Trades is correct?"
Halden looked toward him.
"About what?"
"That this isn't isolated piracy."
The room quieted slightly.
Because everyone had already considered it.
No one wanted to say it first.
The officer continued carefully.
"These logistics structures imply sustained external support. Fuel movement. Repair access. Procurement laundering. Somebody is investing resources into destabilization."
Halden looked back toward the display.
He hated that the young analyst was probably right.
Frontier piracy usually looked chaotic.
This looked cultivated.
Like someone watering weeds strategically.
"Keep digging," Halden ordered quietly. "And I want full background development on Captain Al'Trades."
One analyst hesitated.
"Sir… there isn't much."
"That is also concerning."
---
Jack finished signing the final salvage confirmation while the clerk processed prisoner transfer authorization.
The pirates themselves had already been moved into Vandar detention under station jurisdiction. Most had reportedly become extremely cooperative after realizing the Steady Hand was not going to torture or execute them.
Again:
useful reputation.
Aria pushed off the wall finally.
"So what now?"
Jack looked toward her.
"Now we start pulling the thread."
Nessa crossed her arms lightly. "Meaning the logistics network."
"Yes."
Athena projected a rotating cluster of recovered transaction nodes into the air above the desk.
Several identifiers flashed red.
Fuel brokers.
Ghost repair docks.
Independent cargo relays.
False salvage processors.
And beneath all of it:
patterns.
Aria studied the projection carefully now, all humor fading again beneath professional focus.
"You already found local intersections."
"Yes," Athena said.
Nessa narrowed her eyes.
"Vandar."
The hologram highlighted three transaction clusters near the station.
"Indirectly," Athena corrected. "The station itself is likely uninvolved. However, decentralized traffic density makes it ideal for covert logistical overlap."
The exhausted salvage clerk slowly looked between all of them.
Then made the deeply intelligent decision not to ask further questions.
Jack noticed another thing instead.
A station worker near the office entrance pretending not to stare at him.
Nervous.
Young.
Maintenance uniform.
Holding a crate he had forgotten to move.
Jack looked directly at him.
The worker immediately panicked and nearly dropped the crate.
Aria snorted.
Jack sighed internally.
"This is becoming a problem."
Nessa glanced toward the terrified dockworker.
"No," she said calmly. "This is frontier space."
Jack looked at her.
Nessa gestured slightly around the station.
"People here survive by recognizing dangerous things quickly. Right now nobody knows what category you belong in."
"That's fair," Jack admitted.
Aria grinned slightly. "Personally I'm leaning toward 'helpful apocalypse.'"
Athena looked delighted.
"I like that one."
"No," Jack said immediately.
"Yes," Aria said at the same time.
Nessa pinched the bridge of her nose.
The clerk quietly finalized the salvage approval.
"Captain Al'Trades," he said carefully, "your claims are now legally recognized under Coalition frontier salvage statutes."
Jack nodded once.
"Thank you."
The man hesitated.
Then:
"…for filing them correctly."
Aria burst out laughing again.
---
Several hours later, the Steady Hand remained anchored beyond Vandar's heavy berth while station traffic continued adapting around its presence.
Inside Hangar Two, Aria sat inside an Asharii simulator cockpit with the expression of someone witnessing religion.
"This is illegal."
"It is a simulator," Athena replied.
"That's not what I mean."
The cockpit wrapped around her like an armored second skin:
- panoramic combat projection,
- adaptive control architecture,
- predictive maneuver support,
- layered tactical overlays.
Everything responded faster than she expected.
Cleaner.
Sharper.
More alive.
Nessa stood behind the simulator cradle reviewing technical data with increasing disbelief.
"These inertial compensation systems are absurd."
"Yes," Athena said proudly.
Aria looked over her shoulder.
"Nessa."
"Yes?"
"I would commit moderate crimes for this fighter."
"That sentence concerns me."
"Minor felonies at most."
Jack entered the hangar just in time to hear that.
"No crimes."
Aria looked offended.
"You're ruining my emotional journey."
Athena considered this.
"Perhaps very small crimes."
"Thank you."
Nessa closed her eyes briefly.
The simulator canopy sealed around Aria with a smooth mechanical hiss.
Athena's voice filled the cockpit.
"Pilot calibration beginning."
Aria flexed her hands over the controls.
The fighter responded instantly.
Not mechanically.
Intuitively.
Her grin widened slowly.
"Oh," she whispered.
Outside the canopy, Jack watched the startup sequence while Vandar Station rotated beyond the hangar shields.
Somewhere out there:
- somebody was feeding pirate groups,
- somebody was funding destabilization,
- and somebody believed frontier systems weak enough to manipulate quietly.
The breadcrumb trail had started.
Now it was time to follow it properly.