The End Of the Beginning

Crystal stirred, her body resisting the pull of wakefulness as she groggily blinked at the dimly lit bunk room. The ship hummed around her, the faint vibrations of the Ravenblade's engines a constant reminder that they were still locked in slip-space. For a moment, she considered rolling over and stealing a few more minutes of sleep, but the weight pressing against her right side made sure she wouldn't.

She let out a long, tired sigh, reaching over to where her holster rested on the small shelf beside her. The hand cannon sat snugly within it, its weight solid and unrelenting. With half-lidded eyes, she grabbed the holster, fastening the belt around her waist with sluggish movements. The leather creaked softly as she adjusted it against her hip, the heavy weapon pressing against her side like an unspoken promise.

Guess I should start getting used to this, she thought bitterly.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes before pushing herself up, her muscles protesting the movement. With an exaggerated sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bunk and planted her feet on the cold metal floor, grimacing slightly as the chill bit at her bare skin.

Mornings—if this even counted as morning—were never her strong suit.

Grudgingly, she shuffled out of the bunk room and into the corridor, her boots clicking softly against the floor as she made her way toward the break room. The artificial lighting overhead cast a faint glow against the dark interior of the ship, making everything feel just a little too quiet.

As she stepped into the break room, she barely spared a glance at the couch before heading straight for the compact kitchenette. The small space was stocked with nothing but vacuum-sealed meals and ration packs, none of which sounded remotely appetizing, but she knew if she didn't eat, she'd regret it later.

Pulling open one of the cabinets, she rifled through the available options before settling on something vaguely labeled "Protein Enhanced Meal – Egg & Grain Blend."

Crystal wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, disgusting," she muttered, but she tore open the packaging anyway and tossed the meal into the small microwave-like heating unit.

As she leaned against the counter, waiting for the machine to do its work, she ran a hand through her hair, shaking off the lingering fog of sleep.

Another day, another reason to question all my life choices, she thought dryly.

Her fingers brushed against the holster at her hip, and she let out another sigh. She didn't know how Asus carried his weapons without looking like they weighed a ton, but she was already feeling the ache in her side from just walking around with the damn thing.

The heating unit beeped, breaking her thoughts.

With a resigned huff, she pulled out the steaming tray, grabbed a fork, and made her way to the small table, already dreading the taste of whatever she was about to force down.

Crystal sat at the small metal table in the break room, her meal steaming faintly in front of her. She twirled her fork in her fingers, staring at the vaguely textured food, knowing she needed to eat but finding no real appetite for it. With a sigh, she took a small bite, barely tasting it as her mind drifted elsewhere.

Harwen Fringe.

The name alone made her chest tighten. She had tried to push it to the back of her mind, tried to focus on the now rather than the unknown, but it was impossible. Every jump brought them closer to it—closer to whatever Asus was chasing.

She trusted him. She had to.

She trusted the way he always stayed calm, how he never hesitated in battle, how his voice never wavered no matter the situation. He had saved her life more times than she could count, had carried her through moments where she was sure they wouldn't make it.

But she was still scared.

She stabbed at her food absentmindedly, her thoughts darkening as she played back every moment since she met him. The fights. The ambushes. The near-deaths. It had all been leading to this—to somewhere that had the answers he needed.

But what about me?

Her fingers tightened around the fork. She wasn't just scared of where they were going—she was scared of what they might find. Scared of what she might have to do.

Her gaze drifted down to the weight at her hip.

The gun. The massive, powerful hand cannon Asus had given her. She had carried weapons before, had fired turrets, but this... this was different. This wasn't a mounted gun. This was something meant to be drawn. Meant to be used in a situation where her life depended on it.

And that scared her most of all.

She could feel it pressing against her side, its presence a constant reminder of what Asus expected of her. What she might have to do.

What if she wasn't fast enough? What if she hesitated?

What if she couldn't pull the trigger at all?

She swallowed, forcing down another bite of her food as her stomach twisted.

She had faith in Asus to protect her—she always had. But that faith was wavering. Not because of him, but because of her.

What if she wasn't ready for this?

What if, no matter how much she learned, no matter how much she adapted, she still wasn't made for this life?

Her hands trembled slightly as she set the fork down, staring blankly at the tray in front of her.

She wanted to believe Asus when he said she would be fine.

But for the first time, she wasn't sure she could.

Crystal barely registered the soft hum of approaching footsteps, her mind too tangled in her own thoughts. It wasn't until she felt the solid weight of a hand on her shoulder that she snapped back to reality. She looked up sharply, her fingers instinctively brushing against the holster at her hip before realizing who it was.

Asus stood beside her, his presence as steady as ever, his helmeted gaze locked onto her. His grip was firm but not heavy—just enough to ground her, to remind her she wasn't alone in this.

"I'm proud of you," he said, his voice calm, steady.

Crystal blinked, caught off guard. "For what?"

"For being scared."

She frowned slightly, tilting her head. "That's not exactly reassuring."

Asus let out a faint chuckle. "It should be," he replied. "Fear means you're still thinking. It means you still understand the stakes. It's the ones who stop being scared that make the worst mistakes."

Crystal swallowed, her fingers tightening around the fork in her hand. "I don't feel like that's a good thing, Asus. I feel like it's going to get me killed."

His hand squeezed her shoulder slightly before letting go. "Fear won't kill you. It's ignoring it that does." He straightened, stepping back slightly. "You don't have to be fearless, Crystal. You just have to keep moving."

She let out a slow breath, staring down at her half-eaten meal, the weight in her chest feeling just a little lighter.

Asus turned to leave, heading toward the cockpit, but he paused at the doorway. Without looking back, he added, "Besides… I'd be worried if you weren't scared."

Then, without another word, he disappeared down the corridor, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

And this time, they didn't seem quite as heavy.

Crystal slid into the co-pilot's seat, her movements slower than usual, as if the act of sitting down felt heavier than it should. She didn't say anything at first, didn't hop into her turret like she normally would—just settled in beside Asus as he went through his routine pre-exit checks.

The cockpit glowed softly from the console displays, casting sharp lines of light across his armor as his fingers moved with practiced precision, keying in commands with an efficiency that felt almost inhuman. The faint hum of the ship's systems filled the space, the occasional beep of data feeds punctuating the silence.

She shifted slightly in her seat, stealing a glance at him from the corner of her eye. He was completely focused, his visor angled toward the navigation screen, scanning their trajectory as if he were reading a language only he understood.

Her stomach twisted.

Her eyes flickered to the nav display, and the uneasy feeling deepened.

9 Galactic Meters remaining.

That wasn't far.

Not far at all.

She swallowed, forcing herself to look away, but the number burned itself into her mind. The Harwen Fringe—whatever waited for them there—was no longer some distant destination in the back of her mind. It was real. It was right in front of them, only moments away from forcing itself into their reality.

Her fingers curled against her thigh, nails pressing slightly into the fabric of her pants as she tried to steady her nerves.

Asus continued his checks, his posture unwavering, his focus unshaken. He hadn't hesitated once—not in plotting the course, not in leading them here, not in pressing forward when she had questioned him.

It should have reassured her.

But instead, it made her feel like the ground beneath her feet was slipping away.

Because for all his confidence, all his certainty—she wasn't like him.

She wasn't built for this.

And yet, she was here.

Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something—anything—but the words never formed. Instead, she just sat there, hands resting in her lap, stomach tight, watching the numbers count down.

8.9 GM.

8.8 GM.

She clenched her jaw. No turning back now.

Crystal's fingers twitched against her knee as she tried to keep herself grounded, her stomach still coiled in knots as the countdown to Harwen Fringe steadily ticked away. Her mind raced through everything they were walking into, every possible scenario—most of them bad. Her breath came a little shallower than she'd like, but she forced herself to sit still, watching as Asus continued running his routine checks with the same level of unshakable focus as always.

And then, without warning, he spoke.

"So, when we're done here, do you want to stop at some fancy restaurant or something?"

Crystal blinked. Once. Twice.

"What?"

Asus kept his attention on the screens, his fingers moving over the console with effortless precision. "A restaurant. You know, actual food. Freshly cooked. Non-vacuum-sealed."

Crystal stared at him, half-convinced she'd misheard. "Did you just say restaurant? We're about to jump into a potentially lethal situation, and you're thinking about dinner plans?"

He gave a small, nonchalant shrug. "Might as well have something to look forward to."

She scoffed. "Oh, yeah, great. Let me just push aside my rising dread and start picking out wine pairings."

"You don't have to pick now," he said smoothly, still not looking at her as he checked their shield integrity. "But I figured after this, you might want to go somewhere that isn't an active war zone."

Crystal narrowed her eyes at him. "Okay, seriously, what is this? Some kind of attempt at distracting me?"

"Maybe."

She let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing her temples. "You're impossible."

"Efficient," he corrected, flipping through a data log.

She dropped her hands into her lap, shaking her head. "You really think we're gonna just... stroll out of this mission and grab a nice meal somewhere?"

"I don't see why not." He finally glanced at her, tilting his head slightly. "You're always complaining about ship food."

"I—" She gestured vaguely toward the screen displaying their dwindling distance. "Because it's awful! But that doesn't mean I think we're gonna survive this just fine and go eat a damn steak after!"

"Would you prefer seafood?" he asked without missing a beat.

She gave him the flattest stare she could muster. "You're kidding me."

"No," he replied simply, returning his focus to the screens. "I'm serious. When this is over, I'll take you somewhere nice. Somewhere with real food, actual plates, and chairs that don't bolt to the floor."

Crystal folded her arms. "And what? You're just gonna sit across from me and not wear a helmet for once?"

Asus was quiet for a second before responding. "I can make that happen."

That made her pause.

She searched his voice for any trace of sarcasm, any hint of teasing, but found none. Her stomach twisted again, though this time, it wasn't just anxiety creeping in—it was something else entirely.

He was serious.

"Okay," she said slowly, trying to process his words. "So... we survive this mess, and you take me to dinner. Then what?"

His hands stilled briefly before resuming their precise movements over the controls. "Depends on you."

She raised a brow. "Oh? You're just leaving the rest of our post-suicidal-mission itinerary up to me?"

"Sure," he said easily. "You're not exactly the tourist type, but if you've got somewhere you want to go, I'll take you."

Crystal narrowed her eyes at him. "You're acting like this is just a routine trip. Like we're gonna be fine."

"We are going to be fine," he said with such certainty it nearly irritated her. "So you might as well start planning."

She huffed, arms still crossed. "Fine. You want a list? I'll give you a list."

"Go ahead."

"I want a meal where nothing comes in a package. I want an actual bed that doesn't feel like a repurposed crate. And I want to go somewhere where I don't have to carry a gun at my hip just to feel safe."

"Done."

She rolled her eyes. "And you'll just... what? Escort me through all this like some kind of bodyguard?"

Asus smirked slightly. "That's literally my job."

Crystal's irritation wavered, her arms loosening from their rigid position as she exhaled sharply. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're avoiding picking a type of food," he pointed out, ever patient.

She sighed, finally giving in, rubbing at her temple. "Fine. If—if—we make it through this in one piece... you're taking me somewhere with fresh seafood."

"Good choice," Asus said, making a final adjustment to the ship's trajectory.

She scoffed lightly, shaking her head. "You're really set on this, huh?"

He didn't answer immediately, just kept working as the hum of the ship surrounded them. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

"You need something to look forward to," he said simply.

Crystal felt something tighten in her chest.

She turned slightly, watching him work, the glow of the screens casting sharp angles of light across his armor. He was always so certain, so unshaken, but there was something else in his words now—something steady, something reassuring.

He wasn't just trying to distract her.

He was giving her a reason to keep moving.

For the first time since she sat in that seat, she felt her stomach settle, just a little.

She leaned back, letting out a slow breath. "Alright, Asus," she muttered, watching the countdown tick lower. "Guess I'll hold you to that."

Crystal took one last glance at Asus before pushing herself out of the co-pilot's seat and making her way toward the turret. Her boots felt heavier with every step, her heartbeat louder than the hum of the ship's engines as the realization of what was about to happen settled in.

They were nearly there.

No turning back now.

She climbed into the turret seat, adjusting the straps instinctively as she settled in. The HUD flickered to life, the targeting systems booting up as her fingers hovered over the controls. She flexed her hands, willing the tension in them to ease, but it didn't work.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

She inhaled sharply, exhaled slower. Again. And again.

The streaking slip-space lights outside the viewport were beginning to slow, distorting as the ship prepared to break through the dimensional barrier. Her fingers tightened around the handles of the turret, her mind racing through worst-case scenarios.

An ambush. A trap. A dead system filled with nothing but wreckage and scavengers waiting to strip them apart.

Harwen Fringe was supposed to be lawless. That's what she had been expecting—an uncharted void filled with the ruins of forgotten wars and the shadows of long-dead fleets.

Her stomach twisted as the streaks of light came to a crawl.

Then, with a final jolt, the Ravenblade breached slip-space.

And everything she had braced for shattered into something else entirely.

The void before her was not the graveyard she had imagined.

It was alive.

The Fringe stretched out like an unholy tapestry, clusters of nebulas casting eerie violet and gold glows against the darkness. But it wasn't the beauty of the system that left her stunned—it was the movement.

Massive derelict ships drifted in the silence, ancient and scarred, but still active. The fractured remains of battle-worn fleets loomed across the sector, their battered hulls patched with makeshift repairs, engines flickering with weak, artificial light. They weren't dead. They were inhabited.

Scavenger ships moved between them like parasites, darting between wrecks with unsettling efficiency. Some were small, repurposed fighters barely holding together. Others were huge, the size of battleships, their original designs buried beneath years of modifications.

A massive, twisting station sat in the center of it all, built from the carcasses of dozens of vessels, fused together into a structure that defied logic. Its lights flickered inconsistently, but it was clear—this wasn't just a graveyard.

It was a city.

A lawless, ever-shifting city of outlaws, mercenaries, and survivors who had long abandoned the known galaxy.

Crystal's breath caught in her throat.

"This... this is the Harwen Fringe?" she muttered under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper.

She had expected something cold, lifeless—a wasteland of forgotten wreckage. But this?

This was something else entirely.

And for the first time since they had plotted this course...

She didn't know whether that was better or worse.