The Xylos Anomaly

Chapter 42

The Xylos Anomaly

The final micro-jump was a nauseating twist, and then the Wraith fell back into real space at the edge of the Xylos system. Jax's first sensation was not of quiet emptiness, but of overwhelming, chaotic light and energy.

Before his ship could even register as a blip on a long-range sensor, his training took over. With a thought, he engaged the Wraith's stealth systems. The universe outside his cockpit shimmered for a barest fraction of a second, and then he was a ghost.

Now invisible, he took a moment to process the scene before him. The Xylos system had become the busiest star system in the Outer Rim. A massive, white, clinical-looking Cygnus Minerals research cruiser held a high, menacing orbit. A squadron of angular, gray Titan Industries security frigates swept back and forth in a disciplined patrol pattern. Near a dense asteroid cluster, a blood-red pirate carrier bearing the unmistakable emblem of the Red Suns Syndicate lurked like a predator waiting for an opportunity.

And surrounding it all were dozens of smaller ships belonging to player guilds, news networks, and curious onlookers, all jockeying for position, all trying to get a better look at the moon where the "miracle" had happened. The system was a powder keg waiting for a spark.

"Zana, Kael, I'm in the system," Jax's voice was a low, steady report over the secure channel to the Leviathan. "It's a hornet's nest. Cygnus, Titan, the Red Suns… they're all here. The entire moon is under a de facto blockade. A visual approach is a no-go."

He eased the Wraith into a slow, lazy orbit behind a small, forgotten ice moon, using its mass to further shield his already undetectable presence. A physical search was impossible. It was time to use his true advantage.

He closed his eyes, shutting out the visual chaos of the system. He let the ship's systems fade into the background and reached out with the Force. He filtered through the noise—the thousands of mundane minds on the ships around him, the cold hum of their reactors, the vast emptiness of space. He was listening for something specific. The chaotic, frightened, and untamed spark of a newly awakened Force-user.

He found it.

It was a tight cluster of four distinct sparks, flickering like frightened flames in a hurricane. They were chaotic, terrified, and broadcasting their presence in the Force like a rescue flare. But they weren't on the moon below him. They were close, but higher. Their position was fixed.

He opened his eyes and cross-referenced the feeling with his ship's local navigation chart. The four sparks were emanating from the single independent space station orbiting the moon.

"I've got them," he reported to the Leviathan, his voice calm and certain. "But they're not on the moon. They're on that orbital station… 'Prospector's Deep.'"

He tagged the location and transmitted the precise coordinates back to his team. His mission had just taken its first, unexpected turn. He now had a much more specific, and much more difficult, target to approach.

On the bridge of the Leviathan, Zana and Kael immediately focused on the new coordinates Jax had provided. The icon for the space station "Prospector's Deep" blinked on their main tactical display.

"Prospector's Deep," Kael said, pulling up the public data on the station. "It's an old, independent, player-run waystation. Famous for being neutral territory. Good for trade, bad for security. The major factions can't just board it without causing a major diplomatic incident with the station's owners and the other player guilds that use it."

Zana studied the positions of the corporate and pirate fleets. "So it's a standoff," she deduced, her voice sharp. "The big corps are blockading the station, applying political and economic pressure, trying to force the station administrator to hand over the four of them. They've turned that station into a gilded cage." She opened the comm to Jax. "We need eyes inside. Can you get closer?"

"Affirmative," Jax's voice came back, calm and steady. "Moving into high orbit above the station now."

In the cockpit of the Wraith, Jax eased his ship on a new course. The maneuver was a nerve-wracking exercise in stealth piloting. He had to glide through the overlapping patrol routes of the Titan security frigates, his ship a silent ghost in a sea of hungry sharks. He positioned the Wraith in the station's "shadow," using its own mass to help mask his presence, and oriented his sensors toward the main habitat ring where he felt the four sparks of the Force were located.

"I'm in position," he reported. "Standard sensors can't penetrate the station's shielding from here. I'm going to try to… listen in."

He closed his eyes, merging his consciousness with the Wraith's advanced sensor suite. He wasn't just running a scan; he was using the ship as a massive focusing lens for the Force. He filtered out the thousands of other mundane life signs on the station, the hum of its power core, the chatter of its comms. He searched for the four bright, chaotic flames he had felt before.

He found them. They were clustered together, their fear and confusion a palpable aura in the Force. He focused all of the ship's passive sensor power on that one specific location, a feedback loop forming between his mind and the machine.

On the bridge of the Leviathan, Kael's console beeped. "I'm getting a signal! He's feeding us a focused stream. It's weak, but I can resolve it."

A grainy but clear image formed on Jax's main display. He was looking into what appeared to be a luxurious VIP lounge, now converted into a makeshift holding cell.

And he saw them. The four players from the news report. Two men and two women, huddled together on a couch, looking terrified and exhausted. They were surrounded by the station's own nervous-looking NPC security guards, who held their rifles at a low ready. A harried, sweating station administrator was pacing back and forth, clearly in over his head as he argued into a comm unit.

Jax let out a slow breath. His entire strategic assessment of the situation was wrong.

He opened the channel to Zana. "I have visual," he said, his voice low. "They're in a secured suite in the habitat ring. They're not a threat. They're not a rival power."

He paused, the reality of the situation hitting him.

"They're refugees," he reported. "They're prisoners of a power they don't understand, and the entire galaxy is outside their door, waiting to tear them apart."

On the bridge of the Leviathan, Zana and Kael stared at the grainy image Jax was feeding them—the four terrified players, prisoners in a station besieged by the galaxy's superpowers.

"So they're not a rival faction," Zana murmured, her mind reassessing the entire strategic landscape. "They're just the prize."

As she processed this new information, Kael's console let out a sharp, unexpected alert. "Zana… I've got an anomaly," he said, his voice tight with concentration. "I'm running deep scans on the corporate blockade, like you ordered. One of the cruisers in the Cygnus Minerals flotilla, the Stellar Advocate… its transponder ID is authentic, but its energy signature is all wrong. The power core output is thirty percent too high for its class, and it's venting trace particles that don't match a standard military reactor."

Zana's eyes snapped to the tactical map. She zoomed in on the ship Kael had indicated. It looked like any other corporate patrol boat. "It's spoofing its ID," she said, her voice a low, dangerous growl. "A wolf in sheep's clothing." She immediately opened the comm to Jax. "Jax, be advised. We have a hostile hiding in plain sight. Cygnus flotilla, designation Stellar Advocate. It is not one of theirs."

As if it knew it had been discovered, the impostor ship on the tactical map broke formation. It slid silently away from the corporate blockade and moved into open space. Its transponder signal flickered, and the ID for the Stellar Advocate vanished, replaced by a new, unknown designation. The sleek, matte-black, angular vessel revealed its true form.

"It's them," Jax's voice came over the comm, cold and certain. "Confirmed. It's Client X."

They hadn't just arrived. They had been there the whole time, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to act.

And now, they acted.

A hangar bay on the client's ship slid open, and a smaller, impossibly fast stealth shuttle detached. It was a shard of darkness against the swirling nebula. Its engines ignited in a brief, brilliant flash, and it rocketed forward, making a direct, high-speed burn for the Prospector's Deep station. Its target was the exact section of the habitat ring where the Xylos Four were being held.

"They're making an abduction run!" Kael shouted, his hands flying across his console. "They're going to breach the hull! The corporate fleets can't react in time!"

He was right. The lumbering cruisers and frigates were too far away, their response times too slow. The station's own pathetic defenses wouldn't even scratch the shuttle's shields.

From the cockpit of the Wraith, Jax watched it all unfold in horrifying clarity. He was the only one in position. His ship was the only one in the system that could match that shuttle for speed. He had a split second to make an impossible choice.

His orders from Zana, the very foundation of their operational security, were absolute: Observe only. Do not engage. Do not compromise our position. To intervene now would be to reveal his ghost ship and its impossible abilities to every power in the system, including the ruthless client they were now contracted to.

But to do nothing meant watching four people—people who were just like him—get captured and turned into assets by a shadowy, manipulative power.

Zana's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and laced with a tension he'd never heard from her before. "Jax, report. Your orders are to observe and remain undetected. Do not compromise this mission. Acknowledge."

He stared at the client's shuttle as it closed in, now just seconds from its target.

The comm channel was silent.

He did not reply.