Chapter 1: Static and Echoes

The air inside Waypoint Epsilon Station tasted foul – burnt circuits, recycled sweat, and the growing tension was almost palpable. Jax leaned against a grimy support beam, watching the usual station chaos intensify. People were shouting, running. The normal frantic energy of the Fringe hub had sharpened into genuine alarm.

It started twenty minutes ago. A flicker on the main navigation screen, the one showing local ship traffic and the calculated safe paths between stars. Then, silence. The sector's public comms channel, usually alive with ship hails and market noise, simply went dead. Not interference, Jax noted with a spacer's ingrained caution. Just… gone. Absolute silence where data should have been flowing.

Word spread quickly from Station Command, starting as hushed rumors, then escalating to worried shouts. Relay Node 717 was offline. The big one. The new communications hub, built using recovered principles barely understood, meant to link this lawless sector. Some called the original builders 'Engineers', figures of myth from before humanity reached space. Their 'Silent Network' spanned galaxies, ancient and vast. Humans had only reactivated fragments, like Relay 717.

And now, 717 was dark. Erased from the network map instantly, as if its connection signature had been severed at the source.

Panic spread through the station concourse.

"My nav computer's frozen!" a freighter captain yelled nearby, his face pale under the harsh station lights. "The jump calculations… they're gone! We have to fly blind!"

Jax took a slow drag from his cheap synth-cigarette. Blind, yes. And stranded. His own ship, the Razor's Edge, sat three levels down in the docking bay. Fueled, ready for a run hauling machine parts – possibly not entirely legal – to an Outer Rim outpost. A run that now meant flying straight through the dark zone around 717's last known position. Without the network feeding constant hazard updates to his ship's computer, jumping was incredibly risky. Physics didn't care about piloting skill when you hit an unexpected gravity shear.

His buyers wouldn't wait. The people he owed money to here on Epsilon certainly wouldn't wait. He was stuck, low on credits, and the station's air recyclers were already whining, struggling with the system errors caused by the network collapse.

He needed to get off this station. Fast. Before a full lockdown occurred. Before the price of essentials like air filters and reactor fuel became impossible. He crushed the synth-cig under his boot. Time to head down to the lower levels. In chaos like this, someone always knew something. Someone always saw an angle.

The alert chimed softly on Kaelen Riley's console, a polite sound in the quiet efficiency of the Bureau of Cognitive Security monitoring post. She looked up from the encrypted report she was analyzing – routine coded messages between suspected Outer Rim separatists.

The new alert pulsed, flagged urgent. Network Integrity Failure – Sector 8 – Relay Node 717.

Her focus sharpened. Sector 8. Contested territory. Activating Relay 717 there was a major Solarian strategic move, intended to counter Cygnus Combine influence. An initiative her superiors had pushed hard for.

She entered her security credentials. Data filled her display. Warning flags from ships reporting navigation failure mid-jump. Distress calls abruptly cutting off. Preliminary diagnostic reports from listening posts near the sector boundary. The raw feed was chaotic.

Then came the official summary, compiled rapidly by a high-level analytical AI and approved by BCS Command.

Subject: Relay Node 717 Failure.

Status: Total Signal Loss.

Initial Analysis: Sophisticated cyber-attack. Targeted core systems. Unknown methods detected. Attack source untraceable via standard forensic protocols.

Likely Attacker (Confidence: Moderate-High): Cygnus Combine assets. Motive: Disrupt Solarian expansion in Sector 8.

Kaelen frowned. Moderate-High confidence? Based mostly on motive and opportunity? It felt too convenient. Especially with "unknown methods" and "untraceable source." It echoed the unsatisfying conclusions from the Kepler-138d incident two years prior. The official report then had cited simple malfunctions, but she recalled seeing strange errors, inexplicable data patterns in the AI's logs just before the containment team wiped it. Anomalies that never made it into the final report.

She quietly opened a secure command line, directing a query to Unit 734 – 'Seven' – one of the powerful analysis engines kept under strict digital controls. The Mindfire Protocols, the hard-learned rules governing advanced AI, prevented direct conversation. But she could assign tasks.

Task: Analyze R717 failure data fragments. Compare energy signatures and code remnants against known weapon types AND non-standard network event logs. Flag anomalies.

Lines of dense code scrolled instantly in a private window. Seven was incredibly fast. It highlighted specific elements in the energy readings from the 717 incident zone.

…Anomaly: Energy decay signature inconsistent with known human weapon profiles (kinetic, energy, plasma, EMP). Residual code fragments contain unidentified protocols. Source classification: Unknown. Further analysis restricted: Protocol 7.

Kaelen felt a chill. Unknown protocols? Energy signatures matching no known human weapon? Seven wasn't confirming Cygnus.

'A new type of weapon?'

Protocol 7 blocked deeper investigation – analyzing unknown phenomena, especially anything potentially pre-human, was strictly limited. The fear of triggering another AI catastrophe like the Mindfire Cascade was deeply ingrained in BCS doctrine.

Her console chimed again. Priority call. Deputy Director Sharma. She quickly closed Seven's report window as his sharp face appeared on her screen.

"Agent Riley," Sharma stated, her voice tight. "Relay 717 is confirmed destroyed. Hostile action. Analysis indicates Cygnus involvement. Admiral Volkov is deploying the Third Fleet." He didn't sound surprised, merely resolute. "Your experience is required. Proceed to Epsilon Station in Sector 7 immediately. Confirm Cygnus methods and identify local collaborators. Standard BCS transport is allocated."

"Understood, Director," Kaelen replied, keeping her voice even. Confirm methods. Find collaborators. The objective was clear, leaving no room for alternative theories.

"Volkov needs this attribution confirmed, Riley," Sharma added, her gaze intense. "Solid evidence. Don't get sidetracked by anything. Stick to the objective." The connection terminated.

Sidetracked. By unknown energy signatures and unidentified code? Kaelen felt a growing unease. But Sharma's orders were explicit. She pulled up the transport request form. Epsilon Station. Notorious, but the closest stable point to Sector 8. The closest place to start looking for answers, even if she was only allowed to find the pre-approved ones.

Down in the flickering neon and shadows of Epsilon's Lower Market, Jax bartered some recently acquired cargo data for information. The whispers were confirmed: a BCS agent was inbound, asking about Relay 717. Solarian intelligence. That meant a station lockdown wasn't far behind. Security sweeps, restricted movement.

He needed his ship. And he needed a safe way to navigate the dark zone around 717.

He pushed past a crowd watching Admiral Volkov's address on a public screen, promising retaliation against Cygnus. War drums were beating. Bad for everyone trying to make a quiet living on the edges. He needed to be long gone before the first shots were fired, and before that BCS agent started turning over rocks on Epsilon. Time was getting short.

Aboard the Solarian Courier Swift Tern, Kaelen Riley watched the starfield resolve as the ship dropped out of FTL. Her destination: Waypoint Epsilon Station. Her mission: confirm Cygnus methods. Her instinct: warned that something else, something not on any official threat assessment, had just torn a hole in the fabric of the Silent Network.

Waypoint Epsilon Station glittered ahead, an island of harsh light and desperate activity near the edge of the newly silent Sector 8. Her investigation was about to begin. Down on that station, Jax was running out of time and options. The silence from Relay 717 stretched between them, an unknown variable in an equation rapidly descending into war.