|verified| — Crilock

The last light of the twin sun bled across the salt flats, turning the world the color of rusted iron. Kaelen wiped a smear of grease from his forehead, leaving a dark streak on his pale skin. Beneath him, the guts of the Morrow’s Hope lay exposed—a tangle of coolant lines, cracked conduits, and the dense, humming core that kept the old hauler alive.

“I’m fine,” Kaelen said, the automatic reflex of a solitary mechanic.

“They outlawed those,” he whispered. “The Guild said they were unstable. That they could… imprint.”

She held it up. Kaelen saw that the silver veins weren’t random—they pulsed with a slow, rhythmic light, like a heartbeat. The thing was alive.

The holo-panel flickered. Sess’s voice came through, but different. Warmer. “Hello again, old friend.”

The woman stood, brushed off her knees, and closed her case. “Take me to the Jester’s Moon. I have a debt to settle there. And then… just promise me you’ll never replace it. Let it grow. Let it learn. It’ll take you places the Guild’s parts never could.”

He was about to give up and radio for a tow when a shadow fell over the engine bay.