Bull stood on the bridge of his main ship as the smaller raider docked into its underbelly with a dull tallic thud. The planet below shrank into a sar of dirty lights and toxic clouds on the viewport, the kind of place people forgot existed unless they were running from sothing or hunting soone. He flexed his right hand, still flesh back then, the knuckles scarred but intact, and exhaled through his nose.
"Seal it," he said, voice rough but steady.
The woman from earlier moved to a console and tapped a few commands. "Docking complete. No pursuit. Local authorities pretended not to see anything, as usual."
Bull snorted. "They always do. That's why this place keeps breathing."
The ship itself was a heavy cruiser, old but brutal, built more for intimidation than speed. Armor plating overlapped like scales, engines humming with a low vibration that traveled up through the deck into the bones. Weapon ports lined the hull in ugly symtry, not sleek or elegant, just practical. This wasn't a parade ship. It was sothing you brought when you wanted a problem to stop existing.
He leaned closer to the main display as star charts expanded across it, red markers blinking over scattered systems. Each one was tagged with a na, routes, known hideouts, supply depots. Piolet's web.
"Cross-reference recent jumps," Bull said. "I want his last confird location, not rumors."
The man standing behind him worked fast, fingers flying over the interface. "Already doing it. He abandoned three bases in the last forty-eight hours. Scorched most of them himself, judging by the signatures. Looks like he's pulling everything inward."
"Smart," Bull muttered. "Too late, but smart."
The screen shifted, zooming into a system wrapped in debris fields and broken moons. A station flickered into view, half-hidden inside the shadow of a fractured planetoid, power emissions faint but steady.
The woman frowned. "That's not one of his public bases. Shielded comms, masked energy output. He's trying to disappear."
Bull's jaw tightened. "That's him."
The ship jumped.
Space twisted, stars stretching into pale streaks before snapping back into place. The transition hit like a punch to the chest, then settled into silence broken only by the low thrum of engines. Outside, Jupiter-sized gas giants lood in the distance, their storms swirling in slow violence, lightning flashing across bands of color. Broken rock and tal drifted everywhere, remnants of old wars and failed colonies.
"Weapons online," the man said. "They've got periter guns, automated drones. Nothing we can't handle, but it won't be quiet."
Bull turned, finally looking at them both. "I'm not here to be quiet."
The cruiser surged forward. Defense platforms ca alive almost imdiately, beams lancing out from hidden mounts. Bull's ship took the first hit on its forward plating, alarms chiming but not screaming.
"Return fire," he said calmly.
The bridge shook as the ship answered. One platform vanished in a bloom of light and debris, another spun out of control before tearing itself apart against the debris field. Drones sward in, fast and desperate, and were shredded by point-defense cannons before they got close.
The station grew larger on the viewport, ugly and angular, welded onto the rock like a parasite. Fires were already breaking out along its outer hull.
Bull grabbed a sidearm from the rack by his seat and headed for the exit. "Prep a boarding team. If Piolet's there, I want him breathing when I find him."
"And if he's not?" the woman asked, following him.
Bull didn't slow. "Then we tear this place apart until he feels it anyway."
They cut through the station fast, tal corridors ringing with gunfire and shouts. rcenaries tried to hold choke points and failed. So recognized Bull and panicked. Others didn't get the chance to realize who was killing them. Blood floated in low gravity, dark beads saring across walls and armor.
Bull grabbed a dying man by the collar near the inner core and hauled him close. "Where is he?"
The man coughed, blood bubbling at his lips. "Gone… jumped hours ago… took the inner circle…"
Bull stared at him for a long second, then let him drop. He straightened, breathing hard now, frustration leaking through the cracks.
"He's running," the woman said quietly.
Bull looked toward the sealed chamber at the heart of the station, where a faint pulse of unfamiliar energy leaked through the walls. For just a mont, his gaze flicked back to the ship's sensor feed, to a locked compartnt deep inside his cruiser, where sothing ancient and wrong throbbed in silence.
"No," Bull said. "He's being chased."
He turned back toward the exit, already issuing orders. "Burn the rest. Then we move. Wherever Piolet goes next, we follow."
Bull was still in the inner corridor when one of his crew jogged up, helt tucked under his arm, breath a little fast.
"Boss," the man said, lowering his voice despite the alarms and distant gunfire, "we found sothing under the base. Not on the schematics. Deep bunker. Shielded. The door's sealed hard."
Bull stopped walking and turned to face him. "Power source?"
"Independent," the man replied. "Old tech. Manual locks mixed with energy seals. Whoever built it didn't want it found."
Bull thought for a second, then nodded. "Open it. Slow. No heavy charges, no careless cutting. If Piolet hid sothing down there, I want it intact."
"Yes, sir."
It took ti. Too much ti. Bull waited near the entrance as his people worked the lock with cutters, bypass tools, and brute force where finesse failed. The tal finally gave way with a grinding scream, the door sliding open just enough to let stale air spill out.
Bull stepped inside with a handful of ard crew. The lights ca on one by one, flickering as they stabilized, and the sll hit first. Old blood, rot, recycled air that hadn't been refreshed in years.
The room was lined with cages.
"Is this a prison?" soone from the crew muttered as she covered her nose.
"But why would Piolet have a facility like this? He is known to ruthlessly kill everyone, including the elderly and won."
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