The Star-Drifter didn't just fly; it inhaled the distance.
When the engines ignited, there was no rattling of bolts or the smell of burning oil that I'd grown used to in the Lower Districts.
Instead, there was a soft, melodic hum that vibrated in my teeth—the sound of pure, stabilized energy.
For the first thirty minutes of the flight, none of us spoke. We just stood in the cockpit, paralyzed by the view.
"Is that... the whole world?" I whispered, my voice sounding small in the vast, silent cabin. Behind us, the massive, smog-choked pillar of Aethryx was shrinking into a tiny, rusted needle against the black velvet of space.
"It's a ball," Bjorn muttered, his massive paws pressed against the reinforced glass.
The "Scourge of the Tundra" looked like a confused puppy. "Fuen, the world is a ball.
Why does it not roll away?"
"Gravity, you giant carpet," Vax breathed, though for once, there was no bite in his insult. He was running his hands over the console. His four eyes were shimmering with tears he refused to let fall. "This isn't just a ship. Look at these haptics. The console is made of Liquid-Ether. It responds to my thoughts before I even touch it."
Vax tentatively pressed a button, and a hidden compartment slid open, revealing a row of crystalline vials filled with glowing blue liquid.
"Synthetic Adrenaline-Tea," Vax whispered.
"The Archons drink this to sharpen their focus. One vial costs more than Kael's entire workshop."
"And look at this!" I shouted, walking toward the center of the living quarters. I pressed a panel, and a plush, leather-bound sofa emerged from the floor, alongside a table that projected a 3D map of the galaxy.
I sank into the chair. It didn't creak. It didn't smell like mold. It felt like being hugged by a cloud. I looked down at my hands—stained with grease and scarred from the Pit—and then back at the pristine, white-gold trim of the cabin.
"We're thieves," I said, a sudden, nervous laugh bubbling up in my chest. "We're literally sitting in the lap of the gods, and we're covered in dirt."
"Speak for yourself, Ground-Level," Kuro purred. He had already found a velvet cushion and was kneading it with his claws.
"I was born for this. Though I must say, the gravity-compensation is a bit stiff. Vax, adjust the inertial dampeners by 2%—I can feel the ship's vibration in my tail."
"I find food!" Bjorn's voice boomed from the back of the ship.
We all ran to the galley. It wasn't a kitchen; it was a wall of silver panels. Bjorn was staring at a screen that showed various icons of meat and fruit.
"Bjorn wants... forest pig!" He poked a button with a claw.
A mechanical arm whirred inside the wall.
Seconds later, a plate slid out. On it sat a perfectly seared, steaming steak, seasoned with herbs I couldn't name. The smell hit us like a physical blow. After weeks of eating grey 'Nutri-Paste' and dry crackers, it was overwhelming.
Bjorn didn't even use a fork. He grabbed the steak, shoved the whole thing in his mouth, and his eyes went wide. He let out a whimper—a genuine, emotional sound. "It tastes like... like spring."
Pod, sensing the joy, hopped onto the table.
He turned a bright, happy pink and let out a series of rapid-fire bloops. He didn't eat the food; he just sat near the heat of the plate, absorbing the "vibes" of a satisfied team.
The humor lasted for an hour. We ate until we were stuffed, and Vax explored every circuit of the ship until he was exhausted. But as the adrenaline wore off, the silence of space returned.
I stood alone on the bridge, looking at the "30-Day" timer on my HUD.
[ TIME REMAINING: 21 DAYS, 12 HOURS ]
The luxury didn't change the fact that I was still a dead man walking if I didn't reach the top. I looked at the team—the alien, the cat, the bear, and the slime. They were all sleeping or resting in the first real comfort they'd ever known.
I have to keep them safe, I realized. This ship isn't a prize; it's a target.
"Don't get too attached to the leather, Fuen,"
Kuro's voice came from the darkness. He was sitting on the pilot's headrest, his eyes glowing gold. "The higher you fly, the harder the Archons aim their guns."
"I know," I said, gripping the controls. "But for the first time... I think we actually have a chance to hit back."
Just then, the ship's alarm let out a soft, melodic chime.
"Warning," the ship's AI spoke—a voice like smooth silk. "Approaching the gravity-well of Oros. Planetary defense systems are locked onto our signature. Please prepare for... aggressive hospitality."
I looked at the shimmering silver planet growing in the window. The "vacation" was over. It was time to see if our new toys could actually keep us alive.