This was her second time experiencing the transition from superluminal travel, but the sensation never quite lost its edge. Pip settled into the pilot's chair, the harness clicking into place with a reassuring snap. She adjusted her grip on the yoke, her claws retracted but ready, her digitigrade paws resting comfortably on the pedals.
The Starborn Prowl shuddered violently as the superluminal drive disengaged, the engines whining down into a low, steady hum. The starfield outside the viewport, previously streaks of light, snapped back into focus as the navigation displays switched from the artificial star animation.
Pip gasped, her emerald eyes widening as the massive structure of Citadel loomed into view. It was colossal, easily the size of a small moon, yet it defied spherical geometry. The station was an irregular, jagged monolith of dark metal and reinforced plating, orbiting between the outer asteroid belt and the looming gas giant. It looked less like a being-made object and more like a fortress carved from the void itself.
Swarms of smaller vessels darted around the station like insects around a hive, while massive freighters could be seen at, heading to or away from the docks. Pip's attention snapped back to her console, her focus narrowing. She input the coordinates for the approach vector, her fingers dancing across the touch panel. Even at cruising speed, it would take over an hour to close the distance.
Purple sat in his chair, his midnight purple fur ruffled slightly by the ship's movement. His yellow eyes scanned the readouts, his expression grim. He tapped his ear-comm, his voice low and determined.
"Lyra, contact Citadel," he ordered. "Get an approach lane and permission to dock."
"Acknowledged, Captain," Lyra replied. Her voice, soothing and calm, filled the bridge. "Establishing secure uplink. Stand by for clearance."
Thirty minutes ticked by in a comfortable silence. Then, Lyra's voice chimed again.
"Approach vector received and confirmed," Lyra said. "Sent to Pip's station. We are cleared for docking at sector Five-D."
Pip nodded, her tail twitching with anticipation. She adjusted the ship's heading, guiding the Starborn Prowl toward the designated lane. As they drew closer, the scale of the station became overwhelming. Pip looked up from her console, her muzzle parting slightly in awe. She could see the station's massive docking arms extending outward like the spokes of a colossal wheel, kilometers wide. Smaller service arms and gantries extended from the main wheel, where ships of all sizes were being berthed or refueled.
The automated guidance systems took over as the ship approached the fifty-kilometer mark. Pip released the yoke, her paws lifting from the controls. The Starborn Prowl drifted forward, the station's automated sensors locking onto the ship's transponder. A gentle nudge from the station's DI guided the corvette into the correct alignment, and the massive docking clamps extended to meet them.
The rear of the ship around the hatch was covered by and sealed with the gangway, the heavy mag-clamps engaging with a resounding, metallic clank that vibrated through the hull.
At the armory, Purple and Pip armed themselves with standard personal protection gear. Purple clipped the small, circular personal shield to his chest, the blue LED glowing steadily as it bonded to his leather jacket. He holstered a sidearm blaster at his hip. Pip followed suit, her smaller paws carefully adjusting the strap of her shield and checking the charge on her own blaster. The weight of the weapons felt foreign to her, but she held the blaster with a steady grip, her claws retracted but ready.
At the hatch, Purple paused, his yellow eyes scanning the seal one last time before tapping the release button. With a pneumatic hiss, the hatch lowered smoothly and pivoted to form a ramp. Outside the ship, the interior of the gangway was visible, a sterile corridor of metal and light.
Pip could not help but look around in wonder, her emerald eyes wide as this was her first time in one. The air smelled of recycled atmosphere and ozone.
Purple guided Pip into the docking area, the hatch of the Starborn Prowl sliding shut behind them with a final thud. They walked around the hub; gangways to docked ships extended every dozen meters, creating a labyrinth of walkways. They had to navigate carefully around large cargo crates stacked on the deck, waiting to be shipped or stored. Pip looked around at all the various aliens moving cargo around—so many different kinds of beings. Some were furless, some scaled and reptilian, all bustling with purpose.
They finally made it to the station entry corridor. Purple guided Pip into the station proper. As they approached the exit, the security station loomed ahead, an imposing structure filled with monitors and scanners. After they cleared that checkpoint, they would be free to go to the station proper.
They had to detour to a side desk where Purple could register Pip as part of his crew. The process was thorough. A scanner took her paw pad prints, a technician clipped a hair from her shoulder for DNA analysis, and a holocam recorded her image and a video interview where Pip had to introduce herself. They also had to declare the weapons she carried. It had not occurred to Purple that he would need to register Pip; her species was not part of known space, and this was her first time in it. He realized his oversight only as the paperwork was being processed.
As Pip followed Purple down the corridor toward the station's main entry, the hum of the station's life support seemed to grow louder. The floor was cool beneath her padded paws as she walked, her tail swishing behind her in a slow, rhythmic beat.
Pip reached out with her paw, the back of her hand striking Purple's hip with a dull thud. Her voice, usually soft, carried a distinct note of annoyance.
"You did not warn me about that," she said, her muzzle wrinkling slightly. "All that paperwork. My first time doing any, and now I know I hate it."
Purple's shoulders slumped slightly, his long tail twitching behind him. He looked down at her, his expression contrite. He adjusted the strap of his leather jacket, his midnight purple fur ruffled.
"I'm sorry, Pip," he admitted. "It totally slipped my mind. I did not even think about how you being new to known space would cause us so much hassle."
Pip struck him again, this time with a bit more force, though still playful. "Us? You mean me. All you did was sit with your comm in your face."
Purple chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "Sure, sure. I know this is not an excuse, but I have things on my mind, and I've also never brought an unknown species into known space."
Pip hit him again. "I'm not unknown."
Purple grinned, his yellow eyes crinkling at the corners. "To the rest of the galaxy you are. I can't even mention that you are from a pre-industrial world. That could cause even more issues for us. Good thing I had you dress similar to me, leather jacket, wearing the HUD glasses, and carrying a blaster helped too."
Pip swung her paw again, aiming for his hip, but she missed. Her paw connected with the side of his rear, a solid thud.
"For me you mean."
Pip was not hitting Purple very hard; it was mostly out of frustration. What a way to have her first moments in a new world spent being examined, and filling out paperwork. She looked at the security monitors lining the wall, feeling a bit like a specimen herself.
Purple smiled, his ears flicking forward. "I'll make it up to you. I'll treat us to a nice dinner. How does that sound?"
Pip looked to the side at Purple, her ears slightly drooping. She wondered what that even meant. What did he consider nice? She wasn't sure.
Purple tapped his ear-comm. "Lyra, what is a good place to get dinner? We are heading to the commercial district. Put it on my comm for me."
Lyra's voice, soothing and calm, whispered in his ear. "Will do, Captain."
As Pip followed Purple down the corridor toward the station's main entry, the hum of the station's life support seemed to grow louder. The floor was cool beneath her padded paws as she walked, her tail swishing behind her in a slow, rhythmic beat.
Pip narrowed her emerald eyes, repeating the phrase like a mantra. "I belong here."
She began to groom herself, licking the back of her paw and smoothing the fur on her shoulder, acting as if she had no cares in the world. A small smile showed on Purple's muzzle as he glanced out the window, seeing the commercial section looming closer. He softly said, "Here we go, remember, stay close."
They stepped off the tram and out into the thoroughfare. The air was thick with the scent of ozone, synthetic spices, and exhaust. The thoroughfare was a kaleidoscope of neon and motion. Holographic advertisements flickered in the air, projecting images from exotic fruits to luxury starships. Dozens of alien species bustled about—furred creatures in sleek suits, reptilian traders with scales that shifted in the light, towering stone-like beings that looked like they had stepped out of a museum, and insectoid workers with chitinous armor clanking against the metal deck.
Purple placed his paw on Pip's shoulder. Pip blinked, seemingly waking from a trance, and her posture shifted back to alertness. She went back to her tough routine, ears swiveling to catch every sound.
As they continued on their way down the walkway, Purple adjusted his wrap-around AR glasses, the HUD overlaying his vision. He followed the glowing blue indicator, guiding Pip through the dense crowd. She followed him closely, using his bulk to part the flow of traffic.
Finally, they arrived at a sleek, silver door marked 'Nebula Kitchen.' They waited by the sign that said 'Wait Here.' After a few minutes, a host approached. They were tall, with smooth pinkish-gray leathery skin glistening under the lights. The host swept one long arm across its chest in a fluid gesture.
"Greetings," it said, its voice smooth. "I'll take you to your table."
They followed the host down a narrow corridor. It stopped in front of a booth near the back. "This is your seat," the host said, gesturing to the booth. "Enjoy the food."
With a polite nod, the host turned and walked away.
Purple sat down and tapped the touch screen embedded in the table. He scrolled through the menu options. Lyra's voice chimed softly in his ear, suggesting a few dishes that would likely appeal to Pip's palate. He made the selections, the screen confirming the order.
As Purple followed the glowing blue path on his HUD, leading them toward a sector designated for accommodations, Pip trailed close behind. The neon lights of the commercial district faded, replaced by the cooler hum of the lighter commercial area.
Pip couldn't help herself. "That food was really good," she said, her muzzle wrinkling slightly as she recalled the taste. "Better than anything I've had on your ship. Is there any way we can have that on the ship too?"
Purple just shook his head, his long ears twitching. He fought the urge to let a smile show, though his tail gave a slow, amused swish behind him.
The walkways thinned out, the density of alien life decreasing as they moved toward the quieter zones. Finally, they arrived at the entry, the door opened as they approached. They entered the lobby and Purple approached the wall terminal. He entered their payment info, and the terminal whirred, spitting out two sleek keycards. Purple handed one to Pip.
"Keep this on you," he explained. "It lets you into the elevator and our room."
Pip snatched the card from his paw. "Yeah, I know, thank you." She tucked it into her side pocket, sealing it shut with a satisfying click.
The door hissed shut behind them. The room was stark—bland wallpaper in a neutral gray, and the walls were adorned with generic, abstract artwork that looked like it had been mass-produced. Overhead, recessed lights cast a cool, white glow.
Purple padded over to the desk terminal, sitting down. He immediately began tapping the keys, the screen illuminating his face. He was wired into the station's network, searching for anything that might connect to his missing crew.
Pip wandered over to the sofa, her paws sinking slightly into the fabric. "So, how long are we staying here?" she asked, looking up at him.
It took a moment for Purple to respond; he was too focused on the scrolling data streams. Finally, he looked up, his expression grim. "For as long as it takes."
Pip nodded, accepting the answer. She sat back on the sofa and picked up the remote and pressed a button. The wall shifted, and a halo-view projector emerged, casting a three-dimensional image into the room. She switched it to the local news channel.
On the halo-view, Pip watched a news report with half an ear. The hologram flickered, displaying chaotic footage of two rival factions clashing over control of a border sector. Laser fire and explosions lit up the image, but Pip was only half-listening. The alien languages and the sheer scale of the violence were overwhelming; everything was so alien to her, a stark contrast to the quiet forests of her homeworld.
It was about an hour later when Purple walked into the halo projection, his silhouette blocking the light. "I have a lead," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Shut that down, we are leaving."
Pip turned it off instantly, the image vanishing from the air. She got up and walked up behind him, looking up at him with her emerald eyes wide. "What did you find?"
While they walked out of the room, Purple explained, "I found a clue, something only I would know. The coded message was in a personal ad of all places. We need to go hang out at this dive bar called Orbital Decay. We do that until we are contacted. The syndicate is monitoring all communications, so it is not safe to just say 'here I am, come get me.' The worst part is I don't even know why they are after us."
Purple and Pip stood across the street from the bar. It looked worse than Purple remembered. The neon sign buzzed with a dying hum, casting a sickly green light on the grime-streaked windows and the rusted hull plating from old ships. The air smelled of ozone and cheap synth-tobacco.
After watching the place for over fifteen minutes, nothing looked out of place. Purple decided he would head in. Pip followed him very closely; this section of the commercial district had seen better rotations. The lights were dim, and the shadows looked deep. As they neared the entry, Pip took Purple's paw, holding onto it tightly.
Purple pushed through the doorway, holding it open for Pip. Inside, the air was thick and smelled of stale alcohol, sweat, and recycled air. The bar looked like it had seen more fights than drinks. It was about half full, with workers just getting off their shift, their postures slumped and weary. There was no specific time mentioned in the message, just "end of last shift."
Purple spotted an empty table in the back corner, tucked away from the main action. He led Pip there. They sat down on the side against the wall, putting their backs to the room.
They had been sitting at the table for some time, the silence stretching thin between them. Purple had ordered a drink, but it just sat there, the liquid dark and unappealing. Pip had no intention of touching any of the foul stuff.
Neither of them talked much. That was when Pip's ears swiveled, catching a sound that didn't belong. She grabbed Purple's arm, pulling herself up to reach his ear and whispered urgently, "Someone is interested in you. Be on alert. At the far end of the bar."
Pip sat back down on the seat, keeping her eyes fixed on the area, her posture tense.
Purple turned to look at the being that had been studying him from the bar. The being stood, shedding the shadows like a cloak, and began to approach. When Purple got a good look at them, he saw they were a Vex'thar. They were sleek, standing about one point five meters tall with a lean, muscular build that rippled under their short, iridescent fur. The fur shifted between deep blues and purples, catching the dim bar light like oil on water. Their heads were wolf-like, angular with prominent cheekbones and a slight overbite revealing sharp canines. Their digitigrade legs ended in semi-retractable claws that clicked softly against the floor. They looked rough on the edges, their fur matted in places, but their posture was tense, betraying a nervous energy.
Pip scooted closer to Purple, and laid one paw on the hilt of her blade, her claws peeking out just enough to be a threat.
The Vex'thar sat opposite Purple, their weight settling on the chair. They gave Pip a quick, assessing glance before returning their attention back to Purple, their eyes scanning him with a predatory intensity. They gave Purple a good look over before speaking. "You are Purple, yes?"
Purple gave them the same look over. They didn't look like Syndicate enforcers; they looked like a scavenger or a desperate trader. Their fur looked like it had seen better times, matted with grease and dust. Purple leaned over the table, his voice dropping to a growl. "Who is asking?"
They leaned over the table and softly said, "Korvena. We have mutual friends, yes?"
Purple's ears went back flat against his skull. They were being cryptic, and he didn't like it. "I don't know, do we?"
Korvena looked around the bar, their eyes darting to the shadows, before looking back at Purple. "You know Zharok, a mutual friend. We can't talk here. The walls have ears. You have a place we can talk, yes?"
As Korvena waited for an answer, they looked around again, their tail twitching nervously. Could Purple trust them? There was only one way to find out.
Purple leaned over the table too, closing the distance. "Tell me how Zharok is doing. Is he still selling crops?"
Korvena looked confused for a moment, their brow furrowing, before they realized it was a test. "Zharok never sold crops," they said, their voice dropping to a whisper. "You know that. He deals in... more delicate matters."
Purple sat back up, his eyes narrowing. "We have a room. Follow us. I assume you're alone?"
Korvena nodded, then stood with a sharp nod.
As they walked down the hall from the elevator, Korvena's voice cut through the hum of the station. "So tell me, Purple, who is the little feline following us with their paw on their gun? I've never seen their species before."
Purple glanced back at Pip, giving her a subtle nod. She returned the gesture, her emerald eyes fixed on the corridor. He turned his attention back to Korvena. "She is a new member of my crew. She's the pilot. Pip is watching our backs. Don't be fooled by her small size; she is a sharpshooter."
Purple opened the door to their room and stepped inside, his eyes scanning the sterile space for any signs of intrusion. Pip followed him in, turned, and slammed her palm paw pad against the door lock, securing it with a heavy thud. She immediately moved to stand by the door, her body low and ready.
Inside, Korvena gave Pip a wary look, their tail twitching nervously, before turning back to Purple. Purple gestured to the sofa, and Korvena sat.
Purple joined them, sinking into the cushions. His large wings pressed into the pillows along the seat back, his tail sliding under to poke out the back. The sofa was clearly designed for species with tails, the back elevated with an air gap to accommodate them.
Purple turned to face Korvena, his expression serious. "Out with it. Let's hear it."
Korvena nodded, looking at Pip. "Sure, but first I need to check for listening devices. I'm going to reach into my pocket and take out the scanner."
Pip nodded sharply. "Slowly. Keep your other paw where I can see it."
Korvena did as instructed, their movements deliberate. They activated the scanner, the small device humming as it swept the room. After a moment, it beeped, finding no small transmitters. They slowly put it back in their pocket before speaking. "Alright. Zharok gave me this job. Zor'ak hired him. Your crew are waiting for your return. They are relatively safe, and are being kept out of view in the sublevel area, where people go to get lost."
After Korvena was done, they gave Purple another look over, a smirk playing on their muzzle. "You know, up close in good lighting you look better than described."
Purple's eye ridges rose, and his ears went slightly back, sounding a little annoyed. "Just tell me how to get there."
Korvena looked Purple in the eyes, their ears turned slightly to the sides, their eyes half-lidded. "Oh, I like you, you smell nice too. I've never met a Vorindaxis. Are you involved with anyone?"
Purple leaned back, his posture stiff. He sounded as annoyed as he looked. "Of course I'm not. I'm not even staying here long. As soon as I get my crew back, I'm leaving. Now tell me how to get to them."
Korvena nodded slowly. "I don't want to stay on this station any longer than I need to. As for how to get there..."
Purple did not like what he heard; his ears went flat against his skull. He stood up abruptly. "Stay there."
Purple walked over to the desk terminal, his paws barely making a sound on the floor. He logged in and messaged Zharok, asking for background on Korvena. With the message sent, he waited for a reply. He turned to Pip, who was still standing guard at the door. As they exchanged a look, Purple could tell Pip was annoyed by Korvena's behavior as well.
Korvena sighed, their tail thumping against the sofa cushion. "You're no fun. This is the plan: we move your ship to the dry dock for repairs, order a bunch of parts, and your crew is smuggled inside the crates. We have hired the maintenance crew to help. When you are ready, I just send a coded message on that personal ads site, and boom, we get ready."
Purple stared at Korvena, his ears low on his head. "What do you mean 'we'?"
Korvena smiled, got up, and walked over to stand behind Purple. Their ears tilted to the sides as they laid their paw on his shoulder. "Oh, I'm coming with you, kitty cat. I have to be there when we receive the crates."
Purple looked down at Korvena's paw until they withdrew it. He looked at Pip. That was when he heard the new message ding on the terminal. He turned back to the display and read it before deleting it and logging out.
Purple stood up, then moved to the side of the desk. "Send the message."
On the bridge of the Starborn Prowl, Pip sat at the navigation console, her emerald eyes scanning the pre-flight diagnostics with intense focus. Her reddish-brown tail flicked rhythmically behind her as her paws danced lightly across the interface. Purple sat in the captain's chair, his midnight purple fur ruffled slightly from the ship's movement. He glanced over at Korvena, who was strapped securely into a maintenance station tucked away in the back corner. The station was locked down, a necessary precaution, but it was the only one Purple could keep a watchful eye on. He also needed Korvena to handle the parts orders, which required coded messages.
Purple felt a surge of relief at the thought of leaving the station. He had never been fond of the sterile, enclosed environments of starbases; he much preferred the open sky and the freedom of flight. He suspected Pip felt the same way, given her restless energy. He looked at the feline in front of and to the side of him, admiring her focus. She had come a long way since he found her, and while she still had much to learn, she was doing an excellent job watching their backs. A pang of worry crossed his mind—would his crew accept her? He hoped so.
"We have clearance to undock," Lyra's soothing voice chimed through the ear-comms.
Pip nodded, her ears swiveling. She engaged the thrusters, guiding the Starborn Prowl out of the docking bay and out toward the drydock facility. The station's automated systems took over the heavy lifting as they approached the massive repair gantry. Large robot arms and maintenance drones hovered nearby, their sensors active, ready to assist.
Pip relinquished control, her paws retreating from the console. The station's guidance computer took the helm, gently nudging the ship into the drydock. Purple watched the metal arms extend, locking the ship into place with a satisfying clank.
Pip finished her checks and shut down her station. The engines whined down, the vibration fading to a low hum.
Purple unstrapped himself from the chair. He stood up, his wings folding neatly against his back, and walked over to where Korvena sat. He leaned over the back of the station, looking down at the runner.
"Make those orders," Purple said, his voice calm but firm. "Lyra, enable this station."
Lyra's voice responded instantly. "Station access granted. You're all clear, Korvena."
Korvena began typing rapidly on the interface. Purple watched over their shoulder, his yellow eyes scanning the screen as they input the complex, coded specifications for the necessary repairs.