The Red Jackal dropped out of jump space, her crimson hull gleaming faintly under the glow of Port Epitaph's docking beacons. Cain eased the ship into the approach lane, hands steady on the yoke. Docking clamps latched with a satisfying thunk, the console flashing green. Cain leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly and rubbed his face.

"Okay, delivery is complete, the hip in one piece and the cargo is offloaded," he said,"I think I can finally unclench."

Sira smirked faintly, eyes glinting silver with a hint of pride in them. All the while Krassok rumbled low, mandibles clicking in his version of approval. The two were happy to see Cain manage to do his first run with ease. But they knew it would get harder as he rose in the ranks and his reputation went wide and far in the galaxy.

"One haul down, and now many more to go," she said

"Hatchling carried the weight," Krassok said,"the Haul is Sacred, and you honored it."

"Not bad for my first rodeo," Cain said, allowing himself a small grin.

The hatch opened to the familiar noise of the docking bay. Guild loaders bustled about, ships coming and going, the smell of engine oil and alien spices thick in the air. Cain disembarked with the confirmation chit in his pocket, his proof of his first delivery. They went back to the Guild Hall, then Sira led him straight to the Handler offices.

Inside, Sofia Alvarez sat behind her desk, typing at a glowing console, and suddenly he noticed she glowing. She was a hologram, must be projecting herself from Earth to speak with him. She looked up as Cain entered, her sharp brown eyes immediately zeroing in on him.

"So, Cain Mercer returns from his first haul," Sofia said,"so, how did it feel?"

Cain shrugged, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.

"Honestly, nerve-wracking at first," he admitted,"but once I got the hang of it, it felt...right. I delivered food to people who needed it, I guess that counts for something huh?"

Sofia studied him for a moment, then nodded.

"Good answer," she said,"now let's get the formalities out of the way."

She gestured her hand to a small port near her, showing her name and planet she was calling from. He grabbed the chip and slotted it into the port, the screen filling with Arcadia-7's confirmation. Sofia scanned it carefully on her console at Earth, smiling a bit as she liked what she saw, then leaned back in her chair.

"Delivery verified, payment transferred to your Guild account," she said,"you're officially on the board, Cain. First haul completed. How's it feel to have your name tied to a job well done?"

Cain hesitated, then smiled faintly as he felt a warmth over take his chest.

"Feels like...I'm finally walking in the right direction," Cain said,"and that...I think I found my calling."

Sofia allowed herself a small, approving smirk.

"Good to hear kid, but don't let it get to your head," she said,"plenty of rookies survive their first run, only to screw up on the second. But for now? Congratulations kid."

That night, Cain found himself dragged into one of Port Epitaph's common halls. Runners crowded around long metal tables, their voices filling the air with laughter and half-shouted stories. The smell of grilled meats, spicy broths, and alien brews clung to the air. A small band of Vehlari musicians strummed strange stringed instruments in the corner, their melodies rising above the noise.

When Cain stepped in, a few heads turned. A Korthan slammed his clawed fist on the table, as his other hand held a mug with some glowing brown liquid.

"The hatchling returns, his first haul completed," the Korthan Runner yelled

The hall erupted in cheers, many raising mugs or limbs into the air. A Ravik scurried up to Cain, thrusting a frothing mug into his hand.

"Drink! Celebrate! You lived," the Ravik said, smiling wildly

Cain blinked at the mug, the contents glowing faintly green liquid. He glanced at Sira, who raised an eyebrow, then looked at the liquid in the Raviks mug.

"That's Ravik booze, one sip will make you be seeing things," she said,"you better pick something else."

Cain quickly handed the mug back, grinning awkwardly at the Ravik.

"Yeah thanks, but I'll pass," Cain said,"I'll take something...non-lethal and something that won't make me see things. Got anything like soda?"

A human Runner behind the counter laughed and slid him a glass of bubbling amber liquid. He looked up as it was a female Human Runner, with a hourglass figure, black hair and green eyes. Wearing a stylish vest with badges over it and the Guild symbol on the left side of her chest.

"Fizzzroot, basically the root beer of the galaxy," she said,"it doesn't burn your insides. Closest thing you'll get to soda out here."

Cain looked at it and then shrugged, cause he was thirsty and hadn't had anything in hours, so he grabbed the mug and took a cautious sip. It fizzed pleasantly on his tongue, sweet and tangy, which reminded him of root beer on home

"Not bad, tastes kinda like root beer," he said

The night wore on, and Cain found himself surrounded by Runners who had known his grandfather. They leaned in, voices carrying above the din, each eager to share tales of Elias. A Vehlari leaned across the table, her silver eyes bright and a body that made Cain blush.

"Elias once delivered a load of Ravik fire-spice by himself," she said,"half the crates broke open mid-run. His ship smelled like peppers for years, but he got every last crate delivered intact. He laughed the whole time at that."

A Ravik piped up from a nearby stool, whiskers twitching.

"He beat me in cards twice, no human should be that lucky," the Ravik said,"but when I accused him of cheating, he gave me a free crate of liquor. Said, 'If you think I'm a cheat, at least I'll cheat you kindly'."

The table erupted in laughter, Cain didn't get it but he might it when he gets use to this. Then a Korthan, scarred and broad as a tow truck, slammed his fist down, making the drinks clatter.

"He stood with me in the Black Drift when Syndicate raiders came for my hauler," the Runner said,"Elias flew the Jackal between us and them, taking the brunt of the fire and then saved my crew. He said, 'Cargo can be replaced. People can't', a saying I will never forget."

Cain sat quietly, sipping his Fizzzroot, listening to every word. The stories blended, some ridiculous, some heroic, some deeply human. But in every one, Elias was more than just a Runner. He was a presence, someone who was larger then life, someone who seemed to embody the spirit of someone who cared not for fame or money, but to protect others for the experience

As the laughter roared and mugs clinked, Cain found himself smiling. Not because the stories were funny, though many were, but because of the way people lit up when they spoke of his grandfather. Their faces softened, their voices warmed as if Elias had left a mark that stretched across species, across years.

Cain leaned back, letting the warmth of the room wash over him. For the first time since Elias' death, he didn't feel the weight of his absence pressing down. He felt the presence of what Elias had left behind, a family bigger than blood, bound by the Code.

Sira caught his eye from across the table. She didn't smile often, but tonight she gave him a small, approving nod. Krassok clacked his mandibles in rhythm with the music, his version of laughter. Cain lifted his glass of Fizzzroot, whispering softly to himself .

"I'm starting to think I love this job," he said

No one heard him, but he knew Elias would have.

The night wound down, the hall emptying as Runners drifted back to their ships or bunks. Cain stayed a moment longer, staring at the bubbles in his glass. His first mission was behind him, his name now tied to the Ledger not just as Elias' grandson, but as Cain Mercer, a new Runner.

For the first time, he believed he belonged somewhere.

Next morning

The morning after the celebration, Cain returned to the docking bay. The Red Jackal rested quietly, her hull reflecting the faint glow of Port Epitaph's lights. The energy of the mission lingered in his bones, the rush and the purpose made his body grow warm. The Fizzzroot fizz still on his tongue, but the docking bay itself was calm, almost solemn.

Sira stood near the bottom of the ramp, arms folded, her silver eyes calm and unreadable. Krassok loomed beside her, his bulk casting a long shadow across the floor, mandibles clicking slowly in a rhythm Cain had come to recognize as thoughtfulness. Cain slowed, his chest tightening, as something about their posture told him this wasn't another training session.

"What's going on," he asked

Sira gave a small tilt of her head, her voice steady.

"Our task is complete, you have been trained, you have ran your first mission," Sira said,"our task as your trainers is complete, you are on your own from here now Cain."

Krassok rumbled low, his mandibles clacking once like a closing lock.

"Sky-kin is no longer hatchling, you are now a Runner," Krassok said,"you walk alone, or with those you choose."

Cain blinked, the weight of their words settling. He tried to mask the pang in his chest with a crooked smile. Yeah he knew this would happen eventually, but he was hoping that they would be around a bit longer.

"So that's it, you just gonna leave," he asked

"Do not worry, Runners cross paths often," Sira said,"you'll see us again, but our role as your trainers is done."

Cain rubbed the back of his neck, his smile faltering a bit.

"Guess I was just getting used to having you two breathing down my neck," he said

Krassok leaned forward, lowering his head until his glowing eyes were level with Cain's.

"You will hear us still in your head when you fly," Krassok said,"and when you fight. Our voices will stay, even if we are not there."

"Hehehe comforting," Cain chuckled softly, though his throat felt tight,"in a creepy kind of way."

Sira gestured to a nearby crate, smaller than the rest, its surface worn but well-kept.

"Before he passed, Elias left one more thing for you," Sira said,"said it wasn't to be given until you were ready. Until you had proven yourself."

Cain frowned, stepping closer to the crate, which then it hissed open with a release of air. Inside, nestled among padding, was a sleek, four-legged frame of polished alloy. Shaped like a dog, with jointed limbs, a sturdy build, and optics that glowed faintly blue even in standby.

"No way...," Cain said

"This is T-Dog, short for Tactical Dog," Sira said,"he was your grandfather's companion, his partner on more runs than I can count. He isn't just a machine, but an independent AI assistant. He'll help you navigate Guild law, track cargo manifests, and keep you from doing anything too stupid."

"And he bites, very hard," Krassok rumbled with what might have been amusement

Sira rolled her eyes and pressed a switch on the crate. The dog's optics flared brighter, then with a mechanical whirr, T-Dog lifted its head, then padded forward on steady, deliberate steps. Its tail swished once, metal plates clicking softly, which didn't make much noise. The AI dog stopped in front of Cain, tilted its head, and then, with uncanny precision, let out a synthesized bark.

"Identity confirmed: Cain Mercer, biometrics match Elias Mercer bloodline," T-Dog said in a smooth mechanical voice,"I am T-Dog, your partner in your time as a Cargo Runner. Statement: I will not fetch sticks, so do not ask."

Cain blinked, then burst out laughing, the tension in his chest loosening up.

"Hahaha, he's perfect," Cain said

Sira's lips curved again, the faintest ghost of pride.

"Your grandfather thought so too," Sira said

For a while they stood around, T-Dog sniffing around the Jackal's landing struts with mechanical whirs and occasional data pings. Cain finally looked back at Sira and Krassok, his expression sobering up a bit.

"I don't know how to thank you, either of you," Cain said,"or for the training, the patience, the...well everything."

"Thank us by surviving and by honoring the Code, that's all that matters," Sira said as she inclined her head, her voice quiet.

"Thank us by making your name strong," Krassok said, his mandibles clicking slowly,"so when others speak 'Cain Mercer,' they speak it with respect. Do that, and debt is paid."

Cain nodded firmly, the weight of their words anchoring deep inside him.

"I'll do it," Cain said,"one haul at a time."

Sira gave him one final long look, her silver eyes glinting.

"Good, then you're ready," Sira said

With that, she turned sharply and walked toward the exit, her boots echoing against the deck. Krassok followed, massive frame filling the corridor for a moment before he too was gone.

Cain stood there for a long moment, the silence of the bay pressing in. Then he felt a weight against his leg, he looked down to see T-Dog had padded back, sitting loyally at his side, optics glowing faintly. Cain knelt, resting a hand on the robot's head, rubbing the dogs like he use to when they had pet dogs at home.

"Looks like it's just you and me now, huh, buddy," he asked

"Correction: you, me, and a ship older than both of us combined," T-Dog said, his optics blinked once,"probability of survival: 48%. Statement: I like those odds."

"Hahaha, yeah me too bud."

He stood, staring up at the Red Jackal and for the first time, he didn't feel like he was waiting for guidance. He had his ship, his Seal, his dog, and his first real step into the Guild. He went to the quartermaster and used his Lumens to restock his fuel and other necessities, cause he wanted to get ready for the next task. He used some Lumens and decided to go see whats up on the screen

The Exchange Hall of Port Epitaph was just as loud and chaotic as Cain remembered. The air hummed with voices in dozens of languages, holo-boards scrolled endlessly with contracts, and the smell of fried Ravik spices mixed with the tang of hot plasma coolant.

Cain walked through the crowd, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, trying to look like he belonged. At his side, T-Dog padded silently, his alloy paws clinking against the deck. A few heads turned at the sight of the robotic canine, some with amusement, others with recognition and one . T-Dog's optics scanned the crowd, then his voice buzzed softly in Cain's ear.

"Observation: ninety-three percent of Runners are hungover," T-Dog said,"probability of bar fight within next two hours: seventy-eight percent."

"Comforting stats, maybe we should bet on who starts it," Cain said, smirking faintly.

"Correction: gambling is prohibited within Exchange Hall parameters. Suggestion:...we do it anyway."

Cain chuckled, shaking his head, but was already loving his new companion. He stopped at the Initiate Contracts board. Unlike last time, Sira wasn't there to guide him, and Krassok wasn't looming to bark disapproval. It was just him now, so now Cain squared his shoulders, eyes skimming the listings.

Contracts Displayed:

Medical-grade alloys transfer - Solarii Banks to Ravik Station-12.
Luxury goods escort - Vehlari Traders to the Esharr Belt.
Nutrient liquors shipment - Ravik Distillers to Port Sigma.
Raw ore pickup - Korthan Forge-Union, retrieval from Stoneharbor to Korthan Foundry Station.

Cain frowned, reading the last one again.

"Korthan Forge-Union, that sounds heavy," Cain said,"literally."

"Correction: Korthan cargo typically weighs in excess of one hundred tons," T-Dog's optics pulsed faintly,"statement: probability of sore muscles for dockworkers is absolute."

Cain tilted his head, thoughtful at the statement and the job.

"Still, it looks straightforward," he said,"the pickup is at Stoneharbor, drop at their station. No high-value liquor for pirates to sniff out or medical contracts that need to arrive yesterday. Just...rocks and metal."

"Amendment: very important rocks and metal," T-Dog said,"statement: Korthans take offense if their rocks are late."

"Alright then, let's give the Korthans what they want."

He tapped the contract, the listing blinked and his Seal authorization flashing beside it. The mission slotted into a Contract Chip, showing the logo of the Korthan Forge-Union. Cain crossed the hall to the Korthan booth, behind it stood a towering Korthan Foreman, his carapace burnished with deep bronze hues, mandibles working slowly as he read data on a pad nearly the size of Cain's torso.

"Human Runner, Red Jackal," the Foreman said,"contract selected?"

Cain nodded, sliding his ID onto the panel and then presented the Contract Chip

"Cain Mercer," Cain said,"here for the Stoneharbor run. Contract ID Gamma-47."

The Foreman inserted the ID into his pad, then reached into a case, pulling out a hexagonal Data Chip that glowed faint amber and transferred the data into it. Then handed it to Cain, it was a bit heavier than the Helix chip from before, as if Korthans wanted their contracts to feel like actual weights in the hand.

"This contains your instructions, retrieve alloyed stone from Stoneharbor and deliver it to Forge-Union Station Grathos," the Foreman,"payment is logged in Lumens. Do not delay, these materials feed our forges. Without them, weapons and armor production comes to a halt."

"Understood," Cain said,"pickup, transport, deliver. Simple enough."

"Nothing is simple with the Forge-Union," the Foreman's mandibles clicked sharply,"but if you honor the haul, you'll be remembered."

"Translation: don't screw it up," T-Dog said, then gave a short synthetic bark

"No shit Tin-Sherlock," Cain said as he slipped the chip into his pocket, hiding a smirk.

Back at Dock Twelve, Cain climbed the ramp of the Red Jackal, T-Dog trotting at his heels. The ship smelled faintly of new wiring and recycled air, the familiar hum of the engines like a heartbeat. He slid into the pilot's chair and slotted the Contract Chip into the console.

The nav-screen lit up with coordinates: Stoneharbor Mining Colony; Guild-Linked Outpost. A path glowed toward the edge of mapped Guild space, far enough to feel remote but not beyond reach. T-Dog leapt into the co-pilot's chair, curling his alloy limbs neatly as his optics blinked once.

"Route confirmed," he said,"estimated time of arrival: forty-three minutes, barring anomalies. Probability of anomalies: eighty percent."

"Do you ever give good odds," Cain groaned

"Negative. Good odds are a lie people tell themselves before disaster."

Cain laughed, shaking his head as he warmed the engines.

"You and Krassok would've gotten along just fine," Cain said

The clamps released, and Cain guided the Jackal into the void. The hum of the thrusters filled the cockpit, the ship vibrating faintly under his hands. He eased her out of the traffic lanes, input the Stoneharbor coordinates, and pushed the jump lever forward to start the PluseFold drive. The stars stretched into streaks, the tunnel of jump space opened, swirling with light.

Cain sat back, watching the Jackal ride the current of the glowing void. For the first time, there was no one behind him to correct his grip, no silver eyes watching over his shoulder. Just him, the ship, and a dog that refused to fetch sticks.

And somehow, it felt right.

Red Jackal glided through jump space, her engines humming steadily as Cain leaned back in the pilot's chair. He was getting more comfortable now - the yoke didn't feel so alien, the vibrations of the ship didn't set his teeth on edge. T-Dog sat curled in the co-pilot's seat, optics dimmed, running silent diagnostic checks.

Cain exhaled, staring at the tunnel of streaking light.

"Almost relaxing, isn't it," he said,"just riding the current."

"Correction: nothing in space is relaxing," T-Dog said,"probability of disaster in the next hour: twenty-one percent. Increased due to your overconfidence."

:"You really know how to ruin a moment, you know that," Cain asked as he rolled his eyes.

Before T-Dog could reply, the nav-console pinged sharply. The streaking tunnel of stars outside warped, shifting colors. A surge of golden light rippled across the viewport, like lightning trapped in glass. Cain sat up straighter, eyes widening as he knew that meant something was coming.

"T-Dog, whats that alarm," Cain asked

The dog's optics flared as he interfaced with the console.

"Alert: we are entering proximity of a stellar photonic storm," T-Dog said,"class designation: 2A, also known as the 'Storm of Stars.'"

"Storm of Stars, that wasn't in any of the training or science class," Cain said

"Correct, Earth's science education has significant gaps regarding galactic phenomena. Statement: you are underqualified to fly through this."

"No doubt about that. So what the hell am I looking at?"

The viewport filled with dazzling light, waves of golden and blue streams, shimmering like auroras, streaking through the tunnel of space. They moved like living rivers, colliding and dispersing in violent bursts. Each collision sent a shiver through the Jackal's hull, then T-Dog's voice took on a lecture-like tone, precise and calm.

"Stellar photonic storms are naturally occurring anomalies caused by unstable binary star systems ejecting plasma and radiation into surrounding space," T-Dog said,"the particles collide with jump streams, producing violent photonic surges. To the untrained eye, they appear...pretty."

Cain tightened his grip on the controls as the ship jolted a bit.

"Pretty, but deadly no doubt," Cain said

"Correct, extended exposure can fry shielding, corrupt navigation data, and scramble biological synapses," T-Dog said,"translation: you die."

"Well okay genius, so how do I not die?"

"Instruction: align the Jackal's hull parallel to the photonic streams. Let the storm carry you until you clear the surge zone. Fighting it will destabilize the ship."

"Flow with it, don't fight it, got it," Cain muttered under his breath,"Krassok would love this."

The Jackal rocked as another wave hit. Cain adjusted the yoke, watching the streams flow across the viewport like molten rivers. He twisted the ship slightly, matching the angle of the shimmering currents. The vibrations steadied a bit, returning to normal and allowed him to ease up.

"Okay...okay, I think I've got it," he said, then T-Dog's optics pulsed faintly.

"Correction: you have not crashed yet," T-Dog said,"this is progress."

Cain smirked despite the sweat beading on his forehead.

"You've got a way with encouragement, you know that," Cain said with a chuckle

Another surge flared across the viewport, dazzling and violent, but the Jackal glided with it, her hull trembling but holding firm. Cain exhaled, his knuckles white on the controls. Cain laughed nervously, eyes glued to the glowing currents as he tired to not panic

"Okay seriously Grandpa, how the hell did you do this every day," Cain asked himself

"Statement: Elias Mercer encountered this storm six times," T-Dog said,"he described it as 'like surfing a hurricane with prettier colors'. Recommendation: you may quote him."

"Yeah...I'll take his word for it."

The storm thinned, the violent streams dispersing into faint golden sparks. Within minutes, the tunnel of jump space smoothed again, the Jackal humming steady. The nav-console pinged green: Route Stable. Cain leaned back hard, blowing out a shaky breath, the tension calming down again.

"We're through," Cain said,"still alive and intact."

T-Dog wagged his alloy tail once, optics dimming slightly.

"Statement: acceptable piloting for a rookie," T-Dog said,"probability of improvement: sixty-five percent."

"..Eh, I'll take it."

The stars collapsed back into pinpricks, revealing Stoneharbor ahead. The mining colony hung against a backdrop of asteroid belts, its surface dotted with sprawling quarries and towering smelters that glowed faint orange from heat. Docking spires jutted upward like claws, guiding inbound ships toward their ports.

Cain leaned forward, whistling softly at the massive and badass station.

"Okay that's...bigger than I expected," Cain said,"thought it'd just be one giant dusty rock with a few miners."

"Correction: Stoneharbor is the primary outpost of the Korthan Forge-Union in this sector," T-Dog said,"probability of dust: still one hundred percent."

Cain sighed heavily, but stayed on task and keyed the comm.

"Stoneharbor Control, this is the Red Jackal, Cain Mercer, Runner," Cain said,"I'm here on Forge-Union contract Gamma-47. Broadcasting authorization."

He slotted the amber Contract Chip into the console. The screen flickered, transmitting the data to the station. Then soon a deep, gravelly voice crackled back on comms.

"Red Jackal, authorization received, please proceed to Dock Six," the voice said,"the Foreman will meet you. And Runner, welcome to Stoneharbor."

Cain exhaled, steadying himself as he guided the Jackal into the docking lane.

"Alright then, now we just have to load a mountain of rocks without embarrassing ourselves," Cain said

"Correction: probability of embarrassment remains high," T-Dog said,"statement: I will record it."

Cain groaned, shaking his head with a grin as the Jackal descended toward Dock Six. As he got close, he saw many figures in space suits with what looked like mining equipment and ships. He saw them busting up the ore and metals in the giant rock, must be the material used in the everyday things.

The Red Jackal touched down on Dock Six with a heavy thud, the clamps latching onto her hull with metallic certainty. The docking bay smelled of scorched metal, hot plasma vents, and the ever-present dust of mined ore. Cain powered down the engines, running through the shutdown sequence as T-Dog sat upright in the co-pilot's chair, optics glowing.

"Docking complete," Cain said,"now let's see how much rock I'm about to haul."

The ramp lowered with a hiss, which Cain stepped off into the docking bay, his boots crunching faint red dust that seemed to cling to everything here. The bay was massive, lined with towering cranes and loaders moving containers the size of houses. Sparks flared from smelters deeper inside, where molten streams of ore were poured into massive molds.

A Korthan Foreman approached, towering over Cain by two full heads. His carapace was burnished bronze, his shoulders wide as an armored tank, and a datapad nearly the size of Cain's torso clutched in one clawed hand. His mandibles clicked slowly before he spoke in a deep, gravelly voice.

"Human Runner, Red Jackal," the Foreman said,"you've come for Gamma-47 contract?"

Cain nodded, sliding the amber Contract Chip across.

"Cain Mercer, here for the Forge-Union haul," Cain said

The Foreman slotted the chip into his datapad. It flashed green, symbols scrolling across, showing the conformation of the contract. After a moment, he returned it with a curt nod.

"Verified, the ore will be loaded," the Foreman said,"it'll take time as the crates are heavy, fragile until secured."

"How long are we talking here," Cain asked as he tilted his head.

"One hour. Do not interfere, if you interfere, you will bleed."

Cain blinked at the blunt warning, then simply nodded and walked to the side. Then the Foreman stomped off, barking guttural orders at the loaders. Cain turned back toward the Jackal, only to see T-Dog already padding toward a side corridor.

"And where are you going," he asked, as T-Dog's metallic tail swished.

"Directive: loading will not require your presence," T-Dog said,"suggestion: explore Stoneharbor. Sub-directive: locate Cargo Runner Hall. Recommendation: follow me."

"What would I do without you?"

"Statement: die horribly."

Cain rolled his eyes but smiled faintly as they stepped into Stoneharbor proper, following T-Dog.

The mining colony was carved into the side of an asteroid, its tunnels wide enough for heavy loaders and lined with ore carts that rattled by every few minutes. The air was thick with the tang of iron and the metallic bite of recycled oxygen. Korthan workers moved in steady rhythm, their hulking forms carrying tools the size of Cain's torso.

Cain glanced around, fascinated by the architecture and how sophisticated the structure and technology here. He saw that everyone covered their partners, spoke about what they'll do after their next shift or when the next vein will be opened. Cain liked how it kinda resembles the mines on Earth, though he would guess this place had better safety regulations

"This doesn't feel like a Guild port," Cain said,"feels more like a giant mining rig you see in a sci-fi series."

T-Dog's optics swiveled toward him.

"Correct. Clarification: Stoneharbor is a mining rig," T-Dog said,"it is owned jointly by the Cargo Runner Guild and the Korthan Forge-Union."

"Wait, the Guild owns this place," Cain asked,"so why bother with mining?"

T-Dog's voice took on its lecture cadence, precise and calm.

"Explanation: the Guild does not mine for profit, the Guild mines for access," T-D0g said,"by operating Stoneharbor, the Guild gains limited rights to Korthan metals and ores, metals required to construct ships, repair hulls, and build docking stations. In exchange, the Forge-Union receives Guild support: cargo routes, trade networks, and transport capacity."

Cain let out a low whistle, glancing at a line of ore carts rattling past.

"So it's like a trade deal," Cain summarized,"they get logistics with our data, while we get resources they mine."

"Correct. Translation: without arrangements like Stoneharbor, the Guild would be dependent on buying metals at inflated rates," T-Dog said,"this way, we supply ourselves, and the Forge-Union's smelters never go hungry."

"Smart thinking. Grandpa probably loved that."

"Statement: Elias Mercer called it 'a mining lease with prettier paperwork'. But yes, he did approve of the situations."

Cain chuckled, shaking his head as they walked deeper into the port. The tunnels opened into a wide chamber carved into the rock, its walls reinforced with thick metal plating. A glowing sign above the entrance read: Cargo Runner Guild Hall; Stoneharbor Branch.

Cain stepped inside, surprised but the different aesthetic of the Hall. The hall was smaller than Port Epitaph's but carried the same energy, tables fulled with Runners were laughing over mugs of Korthan brew, Ravik haggling noisily over cards, Vehlari sipping quietly while scanning datapads. While Solarii were helping people with the Lumen accounts and no doubt expenses

In one corner, a wall display glowed with names, a smaller version of the Ledger. At its center was a Guild Seal mounted in a glass case, surrounded by the insignias of ships that had passed through Stoneharbor. Cain exhaled softly, a sense of familiarity filling him up.

"Feels familiar, like Epitaph, but rougher," Cain said

"Statement: every Guild Hall feels the same," T-Dog said as he padded in, his tail swishing,"home, regardless of location. Directive: sit, observe, learn."

Cain grabbed a seat at a table, ordering a Fizzzroot equivalent from a passing server - this one sharper, tangier, with a fizz that almost burned. Around him, Runners swapped stories, some about hauls gone wrong, others about runs through Korthan space. A human Runner leaned over, grinning with a relaxed aura, he was around Cains age or older.

He looked around 6'0, tanned skin and shaggy brown hair and green eyes. He can see the guy was of Hispanic nature, or Cuban, he can ever tell with them but he didn't care. He was just glad to see another human around here.

"First time at Stoneharbor, kid," he asked

"Yeah," Cain said as he nodded,"just waiting on the haul to be loaded."

"Heheh good luck. They pack those crates like they're strapping down planets. Don't worry, from what I've seen, the Jackal looks sturdy enough."

Cain smiled faintly, sipping his drink, which was called BluePlurp, a famous soda around the sector. He felt a warmth settle in his chest, not from the fizz, but from the familiarity.

After a while, Cain wandered toward the Ledger display. His eyes scanned the glowing names, Elias wasn't there, most likely his grandfather's records were tied to Port Epitaph, given it was the closest to Earth. But seeing the names here reminded Cain of the sheer size of the family he'd joined. And the responsibility he now held in the job

"Doesn't matter where you are," Cain said,"there's always a Hall, so a Runner always has a place to belong."

T-Dog padded up beside him, optics glowing faintly.

"Statement: Elias stood here once," T-Dog said,"he said Stoneharbor smelled like 'burnt rocks and bad beer and decisions'. He still smiled when he said that."

"Sounds like him," Cain chuckled softly.

The hall buzzed behind him, laughter and stories echoing. For a moment, Cain felt anchored. This wasn't just a job. It was a life, a life he now couldn't imagine not having now

After a solid hour of speaking with Runners and workers, Cain returned to Dock Six. The Foreman stood waiting, a datapad clutched in his clawed hand. Behind him, loaders secured massive crates of smelted ore into the Jackal's hold, the clamps glowing as they locked tight.

"Loading complete and the manifest has been logged," the Foreman said, then showed him the pad,"sign here."

Cain pressed his thumb to the datapad, his name glowing faintly on the screen. The Foreman returned the amber chip to him.

"Delivery to Forge-Union Station Grathos, do not delay," the Foreman said,"we have a saying, the forges wait for no one."

Cain pocketed the chip, nodding his head firmly.

"Understood," Cain said,"the Haul is Sacred."

The Foreman's mandibles clicked in approval.

"You speak truth," the Foreman said,"then carry it well, Runner."

Back aboard the Jackal, Cain stood in the cargo bay, staring at the mountain of ore crates. Each one gleamed faintly in the light, heavy with responsibility. T-Dog padded up beside him and went up to the cockpit. He used the scanner to scan the load, seeing no dangerous elements in it, then locked the clamps down and tapped his knuckles three times

"This haul is lot heavier than food tubes," Cain said as he logged it in

"Correction: both are heavy in their own way," T-Dog said,"statement: if you drop this cargo, no one starves. But many Korthans will want to kill you for it."

"...Cheery," Cain said,"okay from what I looked on the map, a PluseFold drive will take a day, so let's get going."

He turned toward the cockpit, ready for the next leg of the run. He made way to the cockpit and sat down in the chair, and puts in the Ignition key. The Jackal's engines roared to life, ready to carry him and his sacred weight toward Forge-Union space.

Timeskip: 6 hours until arrival at Grathos Station

The Red Jackal hummed steadily through the void, the stars sharp pinpricks against the black. In the cockpit, Cain sat with his feet propped on the edge of the console, chewing on a ration bar that tasted faintly like cardboard and lemon cleaner. He grimaced, tearing another bite anyway, tasing what he think is rubber melted with seaweed.

"Why does every ration taste like someone's science experiment," Cain asked

He glanced at the cargo manifest glowing on his console: Refined Korthan alloy, 120 tons. He thought about the miners at Stoneharbor, their sweat caked into the ore, their massive claws striking sparks against stone. Then he thought about Arcadia-7, about the kids peeking around the corner at his first haul.

Cain leaned back, sighing as he had gotten 8 hours of sleep, but was bored out his mind. He made a reminder to get a console or get a bunch of books in the Jackal to entertain himself. But it was really to distract himself from the burden he had been trying to ignore the last few days."

"Grandpa, I hope I can keep this up," he mumbled

T-Dog lifted his head from the co-pilot's chair, optics glowing faintly at Cain.

"Statement: you are sentimental," T-Dog said,"probability of existential crisis before age twenty-five: eighty-one percent."

"...Yeah we're gonna on your prep talk, tin mutt," Cain said

The console pinged. Cain frowned, sitting forward. A flashing icon appeared on the nav-screen: Incoming Vessel Detected; Stellar Accord Authority. Cain straightened, heartbeat quickening as he almost thought it was Raiders. But now he saw who it was, he relaxed, but got confused at the name.

"Yo T-Dog, who the hell is the Stellar Accord Authority," Cain asked, the robotic canines tilted his head, tail swishing.

"Explanation: the Stellar Accord Authority is the galaxy's interspecies police force," T-Dog said,"they enforce Accord Law across all member worlds. They are neutral, incorruptible and extremely thorough in their jobs."

Cain shifted a bit, but hummed as he ran a hand through his hair. And sighed a bit, with some annoyance as he now had to deal with the feds...State Troopers...or Sheriff's? He didn't know, all he did know, he was literally being pulled over...in space!

"Great, and what do I do when one of them pulls me over," Cain asked,"they're not exactly on my list of drinking buddies."

T-Dog's optics pulsed as he interfaced with the incoming signal.

"Instruction: do not panic and don't attempt to flee," T-Dog said,"present your Guild authorization, cargo manifest, and route data chip. Statement: you are not doing anything illegal...unless you have forgotten something important."

"Don't even joke like that," Cain said with a sharp look

"Clarification: that was not a joke."

Cain groaned, gripping the yoke as the ship shuddered slightly. Outside the viewport, a sleek patrol craft dropped from jump space, its hull painted deep blue with the silver starburst emblem of the Stellar Accord. Its lines were sharp, predatory, built not for hauling but for pursuit, the lights pulsed along its edges like a heartbeat.

The comm crackled and soon a female voice came over the line.

"Cargo Runner vessel Red Jackal, this is Stellar Accord Patrol Unit 19," the SSA officer said,"turn off your engines and prepare for inspection. Confirm acknowledgment."

Cain took a deep breath and then exhaled, then keyed the mic.

"This is Cain Mercer of the Red Jackal, copy that Unit 19," Cain said, the cut the engines and pulled the Ignition chip out,"engines have been cut, awaiting instructions."

The patrol craft extended docking clamps, pulling snug against the Jackal's side. Cain sat rigid in his chair, watching as the airlock cycled. His stomach tightened when the door finally hissed open, and then three figures stepped aboard.

The first was tall and lithe, her indigo skin glowing faintly under the cabin lights, golden eyes sharp as blades. Her uniform bore the Accord starburst on her chest. She moved with the deliberate calm of someone used to being obeyed....and it was kinda hot.

'Why am I like this,' Cain thought

Behind her came a massive Korthan officer, his carapace a deep iron gray, the insignia of Accord Law etched into his armored shoulder plate. His bulk filled half the airlock. The third was a S'erlith, gliding forward on digitigrade legs, his translucent head-frill pulsing faintly with internal light. His long fingers curled around a datapad, eyes scanning constantly.

The Nyxari stepped forward first.

"Cargo Runner Cain Mercer, by authority of the Stellar Accord, your vessel is subject to inspection," the Nyxari officer said,"we are investigating reports of slave transport in this sector. You will comply."

Cain raised his hands slightly, trying to look calm and professional. He hadn't seen her kind before, must be something the DELT missed or wasn't skilled in on. He'll have to ask Sira what the Nyxari are.

"You'll get no trouble from me," Cain said,"I've got nothing to hide, so here."

He reached to the console and retrieved the amber Korthan chip, along with his manifest. He handed them over carefully trying to not set them on edge or anything. The S'erlith took the chip with long fingers, slotting it into his datapad. Data cascaded across the screen, his frill glowing faintly as he read.

"Manifest verified, cargo is refined Korthan alloy, Stoneharbor origin, destination Forge-Union Station Grathos," the S'erlith Officer said,"authorization checks out."

The Korthan rumbled, his mandibles clicking once in confirmation.

"Cargo bay still requires inspection," the Korthan officer declared

The Nyxari officer's golden eyes flicked back to Cain.

"Permission to enter your hold, Runner," the officer asked

"Go ahead," Cain said,"The Haul is Sacred, and you'll find it very secured."

For the first time, a faint flicker of respect crossed her sharp features.

Cain followed them to the cargo bay, T-Dog padding silently at his side. The bay doors opened, revealing the mountain of alloy crates stacked and clamped in place. The Korthan officer stepped forward, running a clawed hand along the seal of one crate. He tapped it three times, the Guild's tradition, then glanced at Cain with a hint of approval.

"You know the rites," he said

"I was taught right," Cain said,"no shortcuts, or my teacher would have my ass."

The Korthan's mandibles clicked again, almost approvingly to him. Meanwhile, the S'erlith scanned each crate, his datapad humming. After a long silence, he spoke up to the Nyxari officer.

"All cargo accounted for, no anomalies or hidden compartments," the S'erlith said,"Runner Mercer's haul is clean."

The Nyxari officer turned, her gaze steady on Cain.

"You cooperate well, just like most Runners do," she said,"remember that Accord Law applies everywhere. Even Guild tradition or government does not override it."

"Understood, I'm just here to do the job, nothing more," Cain said

Her golden eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, then softened...slightly.

"Then you'll do well," she said,"carry on, Runner."

With that, she motioned to her team. The Korthan gave Cain a curt nod before turning, and the S'erlith closed his datapad with a faint click. As the SAA officers departed, the airlock cycled shut, leaving Cain and T-Dog alone again in the quiet of the Jackal. Cain let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, that wasn't terrifying at all," Cain said

"Correction: your heart rate spiked by forty-two percent," T-Dog said, his optics blinking,"probability of cardiac event under continued stress: twenty-four percent."

"I'm not even twenty and you're already predicting a heart attack, great," Cain groaned, dropping into the pilot's chair

"Statement: you handled it well. You followed procedure and you survived. This is progress, very good progress. Elias first time with the SSA was...different."

"...How so?"

"He said he did have one hidden compartment, the SSA arrested him in suspicion of carrying illegal items. Turned out it was moonshine from Montana...he shared it with the officers when he was in the cell."

"...Yeah that's grandpa alright."

Cain allowed himself a faint smile, eyes drifting back to the stars ahead. He powered the engines, the Jackal breaking free from the patrol ship's clamps, resuming course toward Grathos.