It happened in the dark.

The Federation of Mother Galaxies informed me months ago that I’d be stationed at an isolated outpost - abandoned years ago after the Third war of the Interstellar Coalition. It used to be an active shipping hub. It hasn’t seen traffic in hundreds of years. At least, that’s what they used to say on the Mother World.

There was enough power to keep essential services online for my sake. Gravity modulators, oxygen suppliers, the whole nine yards. Radar barely functioned. These older models weren’t worth a damn, but the real meat was in the security cameras. Old, power hungry bastards that drained solar batteries back in the day. The images were fuzzy compared to today’s standards, but they worked.

I thought they were bugging out when I saw it.

It had come in under my nose, a massive freight ship - one of the new J-Series models from Ioka - a nearby world that cranked tech out like it was breakfast. The engines were dead silent. Audio signatures picked nothing up as it drew in. The power supply wasn’t meant to divert to receiving bays, yet I found power draining from my systems to get it back online. Gravity became lighter. The air became thinner. The old hydraulics of the bay cracked and groaned to life after eons of disuse and neglect. Alarms began to blare, and notifications blew up onto my monitor. I had no clue what I’d see when I went out there, but I prayed that whoever - whatever it was wouldn’t have to meet the business end of my plama rifle.