Chapter 01 Farpoint

Sector: Crimson Maw, Outlands
Settlement: Farpoint Station

I arrived at the Farpoint system. Even with FTL travel the journey took forever. The anchor points between here and Sepulcher were mostly desolate systems with small outposts. The Outlands can be dangerous, but fortunately I didn’t run into any big problems on the way here.

I had never been to Farpoint and when I got my first naked eye look at it, my breath caught. The Nightfall—one of the original Exodus ships—had been converted into an enormous space habitat orbiting the system’s star. Still intact, albeit heavily modified, the sight of it moved me. I pressed my palm to the Nova Dawn shard—a 1.5 foot piece of hull from my own ancestors’ ship which I mounted near the cockpit and which bore a fragment of the Nova Dawn’s nameplate. This artifact was all I had left of Rhiannon Port, my home settlement.

The structure—now called Farpoint Station—had a core made up of the original ship but various offshoots had grown out from it organically. The massive structure was home to nearly 100,000 people. There were even smaller habitats detached from the main structure. Why? What were they for?

As my ship neared the structure, I was raised by guards at an orbital security checkpoint. After a quick back and forth giving them my ship information, the guard said flatly, “State your business.”

“Courier, Sacred Messengers. ID seven six zero niner,” I replied. “Got a datadrop for you from Terminus. Only six months old.”

I was also there for a special delivery for Dr Mina Shepherd, but they didn’t need to know that. You never wanted anyone to know what you were carrying. Being a Courier was dangerous work. It put a target on your back because pirates, thieves, and—hell—sometimes even authorities, would go the extra mile to get their grubby little hands on whatever valuable goods you might be carrying.

“Thank Solara,” the guard said, dropping his his down-to-business front. “Our last drop was four years ago and the data was already three years old when we got it. We’re almost a decade behind on reliable news out of Terminus!”

Sure, you could be a target. But at the same time there was a certain respect you garnered for being a courier. Many settlements in the Outlands were starved of news from the heart of civilization. A courier represented (hopefully) good news and potentially brought messages to people from their loved ones lightyears away. For that, you could find yourself not only respect, but special treatment, free booze, and even monetary tips.

“Do you need a full ship scan?” I asked.

“No brother, you’re good,” the guard replied. “I ran your ID and everything checks out. Welcome to Farpoint. I’m sending over docking procedures now.”

A few chirps from my ship’s central computer then a blueprint of the structure appeared on the main display.

“Thanks much, have a good one,” I said.

I switched over to internal comms, “Astrid, we’re through security. All good. Approximately three hours until we arrive and dock.”

No answer. Astrid, my intrepid crew mate was undoubtedly lost in a computer program or something. If you’re a courier with only one travel partner, it’s gotta be a tech. You might think it would be a bodyguard. But no. Violence is straightforward. I’m not connoisseur but I can defend myself if needed. So can Astrid. Any spacer worth their salt can. But a good tech can help you avoid violence altogether, which is my preference. Why get into a skirmish at some forsaken anchorage outpost just because you’re ship’s class isn’t allowed there when you can just forge a ship signature instead?

“Astrid,” I said a bit louder. “Do you copy? We’re in. Gonna dock soon.”

“Heard you the first time, chief,” a nonchalant voice came back over the comms.

“You know you have to actually verbalize when you’re using audio-based comms, right?” I said, then waited.

No answer.

“Okay I walked right into that one,” I said. “Better get some rest. We’ll want to make the most of our time once we’re there.”

The docking procedure finished without incident and Astrid and I boarded Farpoint Station. First priority—datadrop. That’s simply too valuable a thing to be carrying around. I took the toaster-sized memory bank to the ship’s tech hub. As usual they were happy to see it. A new kid—he couldn’t have been more than 20—was working the desk when I arrived and his eyes went wide as I handed him the bank. He’d said he was filling in for the main tech who normally worked the desk. The other tech would likely kick themselves when they found out what they missed.

The kid immediately plugged the bank in and began scouring the new data.

“I can’t believe this,” he said, staring at the barrage of info whizzing past his display. “The battle for Morricone ended with each faction keeping half the planet.”

“Yeah that was a wild one,” I said. I leaned onto the counter. “Any chance you could give me that receipt so I can skedaddle?”

“Oh right,” he said, breaking away and clacking on a keyboard. “Sorry, he said. I’ve never done a data intake before. This is incredible.”

My handheld beeped and showed that I got my receipt—and my standard commission. The amount of the payment was based on the age of the data being delivered. This bank was pretty new—six months old—and was one of the most valuable datadrops I’d ever done.

Now that I was flush with credits, we moved on to our second priority—alcohol.

I approached Dr. Mina Shepherd’s lab, alone. I had left Astrid back in the pub where she was no doubt fending off drunk men and hustling them out of their credits.

The woman who answered the door was middle-aged, small, and short. She wore simple, elegant clothing and had her gray-streaked hair back in a bun with two long hair sticks crisscrossed through it.

After a brief introduction, she gave me a quick tour of her lab. It was organized and austere. I gave her the package I had for her and she didn’t seem overly concerned with it, quickly stowing it away somewhere. Then she brought me over to a display and began showing me some information about her latest project.

“There’s a disturbing genetic mutation that has been ravaging our station for years now, disabling children by causing rapid muscular atrophy,” she said, flashing photo after photo of affected individuals.

“That’s horrible, Dr. Shepherd,” I said. “What can you do about it?”

“Please, call me Mina. That’s the thing,” she began. “I’m testing genetic modification that can counteract this affliction. Unfortunately I can’t complete without a certain piece of equipment. A nucleotide sequencer. We don’t have one on Farpoint Station.”

She looked to me and I knew what was coming.

“There are exactly two of them in this sector,” she said. “And they’re both on Mudd. I need you to retrieve it for me.”

Mudd was another deep space habitat several lightyears away. However they were shrouded in secrecy. They were thought to be a religious sect or something that mostly wanted to be left alone. There wasn’t good nav data charting their specific location.

“How do you even know that?” I asked. “They’re not exactly known for being chatterboxes.”

“It just makes sense,” she said. “They’re really into bio-hacking and you can’t do the kind of things they like to do without a nucleotide sequencer.”

She was hiding something clearly. One doesn’t simply know things that happen on an isolated deep space station. And one doesn’t simply bullshit an empath.

Time seemed to slow as she spoke and I began to feel her underlying emotions as if they were my own.

I expected to pick up on something. But instead I felt… physical pain?

“Aghhh!” she screamed and jerked her palm to her head.

I did the same and immediately snapped out of my hypersensitive state. But not before I felt it. An overpowering, oppressive guilt. She caused this problem.

“An empath, I see,” she said, finding the nearest place to sit down as she rubbed her forehead. “I attempted to guard myself from your kind but I inadvertently interfered with certain pain receptors. I’m afraid reading me causes me quite a bit of discomfort.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, truthfully. I was sorry for causing pain. But not for getting at the truth. “You’re the cause of this outbreak, aren’t you?”

She smiled and sighed. “Sometimes I’m not sure why I even bother to hide it. I suppose it’s because I know people won’t understand. When you’re playing with the forces of life and death, as I often do, your mistakes are consequential. I suppose I’m not yet ready to face those consequences.”

She seemed to regain her composure. She exhaled a long breath and continued. “The planet Sepulcher is great for mining resources, but it’s dangerous due to the ever-present biohazards that make the planet uninhabitable directly—you, of course, know that the Sepulcher settlement is an orbital habitat. Farpoint being a trading hub, we have a vested interested in Sepulcher’s output. My goal was to develop a biological shield for miners on Sepulcher. I arranged to have multiple bio samples brought to me—thanks for that by the way. But your delivery wasn’t the first. My samples and resulting experiments several years ago resulted in a ‘lab leak’ as it were. It’s an insidious parasite that causes genetic defects.”

“So, yes,” she said. “Yes, it’s my fault. And now my aim is to fix it. And I’m close. But I need that sequencer. I have a contact on Mudd. He can get it for me if I can get someone to retrieve it. I’d like that someone to be you.”

I looked at the photos of her patients. I looked at her. She only ever tried to help. Yes, it was her fault, but at least she was doing something about it. And besides, visiting Mudd could result in some valuable data. Little was known about the station and if I could wrangle a datadump… well, I stood to make a hefty sum.

“It won’t be easy,” she said. “I won’t mince words. This is a heist. You’re stealing a valuable piece of equipment that the authorities won’t be happy to part with.”

“I’ll do it,” I said, not giving my analytical side time to think better of my decision. I clutched the iron pendant I wore around my neck. It was a small chunk broken off of the Nova Dawn shard in my ship.

I vow on iron to retrieve the nucleotide sequencer from Mudd and bring it back to Mina.