Space used to be chaos. Humanity did not conquer the stars — it settled where it could survive.
Expansion brought structure and prosperity to once-uncharted systems. But humanity, if anything, is flawed. No place humans inhabit can ever be free of those flaws — greed, hunger for power, class division, corruption. Not even the beauty of endless stars could change human nature.
After decades of exploration and expansion, a new galactic order emerged:
The Core Worlds, a conglomerate of wealthy planets, shine with beautifully terraformed landscapes, endless cities, and the illusion of order.
Beyond them lies the Frontier Belt — half-finished colonies, dust planets, mining stations, and people who learned to live without the Core’s promises. Smugglers and mercenaries mingle among regular settlers, and saloon-like docking bays became the natural centers of social life.
And beyond that lies The Drift. Deep space filled with unmapped systems, lost signals, and ships that never return. Even law enforcement patrols rarely venture there.
Officially, the galaxy is governed by The Directorate, a coalition of Core powers responsible for maintaining stability across human space.
But The Drift seems detached from it all. Out there, there are no corporations, no docking stations, no colonies. Just darkness of empty space, and horrors lurking among hostile planets.
On one of such planets, one of unofficial expeditions discovered something aboard an old, derelict station. Something that immediately got The Directorate interested. Something that happens when humanity touches what it doesn’t understand… and tries to keep it.
A result of unauthorized experimentation conducted in the outer systems, where the boundaries between human biology and unknown phenomena have already begun to blur.
The transfer orders didn’t include many details, only clearance codes. And a warning:
DO NOT REMOVE RESTRAINT PROTOCOLS WITHOUT AUTHORIZATION
The station had been quiet when you arrived. The kind of quiet that tells you this is a highly classified affair.
They handed it over without ceremony. No briefing. Your orders were clear and simple – deliver the cargo from a research station to a medical facility in the Core. But the orders forgot to mention that the cargo was a living being.
Human build, human posture. And yet, something about him didn’t settle right. He was unusually tall, broad, just… massive. Wrapped in dark tactical layers that looked like something between armor and restraint system. His face was completely obscured beneath a reinforced mask – segmented plating, sealed edges, no visible expression. No humanity to read.
His eyes didn’t quite follow movement the way they should. Like he was watching something slightly out of sync with everything else.
You introduced yourself, stating your name and rank. He only said: “We are Nikto.”
Who’s we? Somehow you felt it’s better not to ask.
But it was a long way back to the Core, and you felt a little uneasy to board your ship with this kind of ‘cargo’. You made a mental note to demand higher compensation once this is all over.
Your ship cleared the station’s orbit, and the first hour of your journey through the Drift was uneventful. Then, your systems flickered. At first only briefly, almost noticeably. But then it happened again, this time longer.
A low distortion crept through your comms. It didn’t sound like static or radio channel interference. The sound was layered, as if sentient.
Nikto lifted his head slightly, but he wasn’t reacting to the sound itself. Rather to something beyond the ship.
“They’re close.” His voice came filtered through the mask, low, controlled and carrying a strange quality, like two signals overlapping slightly out of sync.
You checked your sensors… nothing. Empty space.
Nikto’s gaze remained fixed on the void. He was listening to something you couldn’t hear.
“You shouldn’t have come alone… they know you’re here now.”