⬅️ Where is Valera | The Shattered Obelisk ⬆️

Meanwhile aboard the Lost Echo

Valera Thorne gripped the controls of her starship, Lost Echo, her knuckles white with tension. She navigated through a treacherous asteroid field, her brow furrowed in concentration as she monitored the sensor readings. The asteroid field, usually abuzz with the activity of miners and salvagers, was eerily silent. Only the faint hum of her ship's engines and the rhythmic throb of her own pulse broke the silence.

She had left Valkyrie Station in a hurry, drawn by the allure of a new discovery – a possible lead on the location of a precursor vault . These remnants of the Ascendancy, a technologically advanced civilization that once ruled the entirety of the Forge, held the promise of untold riches and forbidden knowledge . For Valera, an explorer at heart, it was a siren call she couldn't resist.

"Just a few more jumps," she muttered to herself, her voice echoing in the confines of the cockpit. The coordinates she had received pointed to a remote sector, deep within the territory claimed by the Rust Claw Clan. A shiver ran down her spine. The Rust Claw, notorious for their brutality and avarice, were as unpredictable as the chaotic balefires that threatened interstellar travel.

As she pushed her ship deeper into the asteroid field, a sense of unease settled over her. The silence was unnerving, broken only by the occasional crackle of static from her comm system. Then, a faint signal, barely discernible above the background noise, caught her attention. It was a distress call, garbled and fragmented, but undeniably human.

Valera adjusted the receiver, straining to make sense of the transmission.

"...Mayday...Mayday...This is freighter Red Horizon…under attack...Rust Claw…no response..."

The transmission abruptly cut off, leaving behind an unsettling silence.

Valera's heart pounded in her chest. The Red Horizon. She knew the freighter. A reputable vessel, known for its reliable runs between the outer settlements. If they had fallen prey to the Rust Claw, it could only mean one thing: the Clan was actively patrolling this sector, and they weren't in a welcoming mood.

She glanced at the navigation display, calculating her position. She was still a few jumps away from her destination, but the presence of the Rust Claw in the vicinity was a risk she couldn’t ignore. She needed to proceed with extreme caution.

As she adjusted her course, plotting a route that would keep her clear of any potential Rust Claw patrols, her sensors picked up another anomaly. A faint energy signature, masked but detectable, emerged from behind a cluster of asteroids.

"One ship," she murmured, her fingers hovering over the control panel that housed her ship's weapons system. Her vessel, though armed, was designed for exploration, not combat. She wasn’t equipped for a stand-up fight against a heavily armed raider, especially one belonging to the Rust Claw.

She watched the blip on the sensor display, her anxiety growing as the unknown ship drew closer. It maintained its position, lurking just beyond the range of her long-range scanners. It was as if it was waiting, watching her every move.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. This felt like a deliberate tactic, a game of cat and mouse designed to unnerve her. And it was working.

"Alright, you rust-bucket bandit," she muttered, her voice tight with tension, "let’s see what you’re made of."

She engaged her cloaking device, a piece of salvaged precursor tech that allowed her ship to blend seamlessly with the background radiation of space. It wasn’t perfect, but it would give her a few precious moments of invisibility, enough to get a closer look at her pursuer.

As her ship slipped into the cloak, the sensor display flickered, the blip representing the unknown vessel disappearing momentarily before reappearing, its position updated. They were still following her.

Valera eased her ship forward, using the cover of the asteroid field to mask her approach. The unknown vessel maintained its pursuit, its movements cautious, almost hesitant, as if it too was wary of a potential trap.

After what felt like an eternity, Valera's ship emerged from behind a particularly large asteroid, its cloaking device still engaged. She was close enough now to get a visual confirmation.

And what she saw sent a chill down her spine.

The vessel, its hull scarred and pitted from countless battles, was unmistakably of Rust Claw design. Its predatory lines and the distinctive array of scavenged weaponry were a clear warning. This was no ordinary raider. This was a hunter, and she was the prey.

But there was something else. Something that made her heart sink.

The ship bore the personal banner of Chieftain Krag “Ironjaw”, a notoriously brutal and ambitious leader who held sway over a significant faction within the Rust Claw Clan. He was known for his ruthlessness, his single-minded pursuit of power and plunder, and his unwavering belief in his own superiority.

Klarg was a force of nature, a storm of violence and intimidation, and his presence here, in this remote sector, boded ill.

"Damn it," Valera swore under her breath. An encounter with any Rust Claw patrol would be dangerous, but an encounter with Klarg himself was a nightmare scenario.

She needed to get out of this, and fast.

She considered her options. She could try to outrun him, but his ship was likely faster and more maneuverable in the asteroid field. She could try to fight, but the odds were heavily stacked against her.

Then, another signal, this one stronger and clearer, cut through the static on her comm system. It was Klarg, his voice booming through the speakers, laced with a chilling mixture of amusement and menace.

“Valera Thorne, explorer extraordinaire. What a delightful surprise to find you lurking about my territory.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “I do hope you’re not here to steal my salvage. I’m rather possessive of my…acquisitions.”

Valera’s hand tightened on the control stick. “Chieftain Ironjaw,” she replied, her voice carefully neutral. She needed to buy herself some time, to think of a way out of this. “Purely a coincidence. Just passing through.”

“Passing through, you say?” Klarg chuckled, the sound like grinding metal. “And what brings you to this…desolate corner of the Forge?”

Valera hesitated. She couldn’t tell him about the vault. Not yet.

“Just following a lead. A bit of xenoarchaeological research.” She hoped he wouldn’t press her for details.

“Xenoarchaeology?” Klarg’s voice took on a mocking tone. “A fancy word for grave robbing. I’m a man of simpler tastes. I prefer my treasures a little less…ancient.”

“To each their own, Chieftain.” Valera said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a schedule to keep.”

She nudged the throttle forward, attempting to increase her distance from Klarg’s ship.

“Now, hold on there, Thorne.” Klarg’s voice hardened. “We haven’t finished our…chat. Besides, it’s not every day I get to catch up with an old…acquaintance.”

Valera’s stomach lurched. She knew that tone. It was the tone of a predator toying with its prey.

“Chieftain,” she said, her voice strained, “I’m afraid I don’t have time for pleasantries. I have pressing business elsewhere.”

“Your business can wait.” Klarg’s voice was laced with a steely finality. “Mine, however, cannot. Prepare to be boarded.”

Valera’s heart sank. She had hoped to avoid a confrontation, but it seemed she was out of options.

“This is your last warning, Thorne.” Klarg’s voice boomed through the speakers, laced with a barely-suppressed rage. “Power down your engines and prepare to be boarded. Or face the consequences.”

Valera glanced at the sensor display. Two more blips, their energy signatures identical to Klarg's ship, had emerged from behind the asteroids. They were flanking her, cutting off any potential escape route.

"Blast it," she swore. She was trapped. Outnumbered and outgunned.

She considered her options, each one more unpalatable than the last. She could try to fight, but it would be a suicide run. She could try to negotiate, but Klarg was not known for his diplomacy.

But surrender? Never.

She activated her ship's comms, her voice laced with defiance. “Chieftain, you’ve made a grave mistake underestimating me. You might take my ship, but you’ll never break me.”

"We'll see about that, Thorne," Klarg snarled, his voice crackling with static.

Then, the attack began.

Energy beams, bright lances of searing light, slashed through the void, targeting her ship's engines. The ship shuddered violently, the impact rocking her against her restraints. Alarms blared, their shrill warnings filling the cockpit.

Valera fought to regain control, her hands dancing across the control panel. She returned fire, her ship’s weapons blazing, but her shots were met with a withering barrage. Her ship, though capable, was no match for the concentrated firepower of Klarg’s squadron.

A second volley of energy beams slammed into her ship, crippling her shields. The smell of ozone and burning circuitry filled the air. Smoke billowed from a ruptured conduit, obscuring the sensor display.

Valera coughed, her lungs burning, her vision blurring. Her ship was breaking apart around her.

Another hit, this one striking the main power coupling, plunged the cockpit into darkness. The emergency lights flickered, casting long, grotesque shadows across the instrument panels.

"Damn it," she gasped, her voice hoarse. It was over.

Then, the unmistakable clang of magnetic grapples, followed by the grinding of metal against metal, echoed through the hull. They were boarding.

Valera, her body bruised and battered, her spirit unbroken, braced herself for the inevitable. She drew her sidearm, a sleek energy pistol modified with precursor tech, its grip cold and reassuring in her hand. She wouldn't go down without a fight.

The boarding party, clad in heavy armor, their faces obscured by visors, swarmed onto the bridge, their weapons trained on her. They moved with the precision and ruthlessness of seasoned veterans, their every action radiating a palpable air of menace.

At their head stood a hulking figure, his cybernetic arm glinting in the dim light, his face scarred and weathered, his eyes cold and predatory. Klarg.

“Well, Thorne,” he growled, his voice laced with a mocking amusement, “it seems your luck has finally run out.”

Valera, her pistol levelled at Klarg's chest, met his gaze with unwavering defiance. “Don’t get cocky, Ironjaw. This isn’t over yet.”

Klarg chuckled, the sound cold and mirthless. “Such spirit, Thorne. It’s almost a shame to break it.”

He gestured to his men, and they moved to restrain her.

Valera fought back, her pistol spitting fire, but she was quickly overwhelmed. Klarg watched the struggle with a dispassionate gaze, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

As they dragged her, bound and defiant, from the wreckage of her ship, Valera caught a glimpse of the vast emptiness of space through the shattered viewport. The stars, once a source of wonder and inspiration, now seemed cold and distant, mocking her defeat.

As they traversed the narrow corridors of the Rust Claw freighter, Valera's eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in every detail. A maintenance hatch, left ajar. A discarded data pad, its screen flickering with schematics.

And then she saw it.

A wall panel, dented and scratched, bearing the faded insignia of the Rust Claw Clan. But beneath the insignia, barely visible under layers of grime and paint, was another symbol. A stylized forge, its flames reaching towards the heavens.

The Forge of Echoes.

She had heard rumours of this place, a legendary precursor facility said to be the heart of the Rust Claw Clan's operations. It was a long shot, but it was the only clue she could leave without arousing suspicion.

As they reached the freighter's bridge, Valera discreetly brushed her hand against the wall panel, transferring a minuscule tracking device, no larger than a grain of sand, onto the dented surface.

It was a faint hope. But it was all she had, a whisper in the void that someone, somewhere, would pick up the signal and come looking for her.

And until then, she would endure. She would survive. And she would find a way to escape, to exact her revenge on Klarg and the Rust Claw Clan.

Her capture was a setback, a painful chapter in her story, but it was not the end. Valera Thorne was not so easily broken. She was a survivor. And her story was far from over.

Aboard The Silent Fury

The Silent Fury drifted through the asteroid field. Each rock, a silent sentinel in the vast emptiness, cast long, skeletal shadows in the perpetual twilight. Inside the cockpit, Kaelen gripped the armrests, his knuckles white. The navigational hologram, a swirling vortex of data, pulsed with an eerie life of its own. Aria, the ship's AI, its synthesized voice a calm counterpoint to the storm brewing within him, reported, "Power systems maintaining at 67% efficiency. Though I'm detecting unusual variations in the local background radiation. Something's interfering with standard scanner protocols."

Kaelen barely registered the report. His eyes were glued to the image of the Lost Echo, Valera's ship, a ghostly apparition against the backdrop of the asteroid field. The once-sleek vessel, now a monument to violence, was a gaping wound in the cosmos.

"Aria, enhance visual feed. Analyze damage patterns," he rasped, his voice rough with suppressed rage.

The image resolved, revealing the extent of the carnage. Precise cuts, surgical in their execution, marred the hull. It wasn't the work of pirates, their methods crude and wasteful. This was the work of professionals, mercenaries perhaps, their every move calculated, efficient.

Whisper perched precariously on the edge of the console, shifted nervously. She knew this feeling in Kaelen, the raw, unbridled fury that threatened to consume him. He understood the weight of loss, the gnawing emptiness that followed in the wake of betrayal.

"Aria, analyze damage patterns," Kaelen repeated, his voice a low growl. "Determine point of entry, number of assailants."

"Analyzing," Aria responded, its voice a calm counterpoint to the storm brewing within him. "Primary breach detected at airlock three. Multiple energy signatures detected, consistent with high-grade disruptor weapons. Estimated assailant count: four to six."

The Silent Fury's docking procedure was textbook perfect, magnetic seals engaging with a dull thump that resonated through the hull. Inside, the Lost Echo was a tableau of interrupted purpose. Emergency lighting cast bloody shadows across abandoned corridors while dead consoles held their secrets in frozen displays.

The bridge told its own story. A half-drunk cup of stimulant still magnetic-locked to the navigation console. Star charts frozen mid-calculation. A personal log recorder, its memory crystal still warm from recent use.

"Beginning deep scan of their systems," Whisper announced, its form spreading through the ship's neural network like luminescent smoke. "Most of the data is encrypted, but I'm detecting fragments we might be able to reconstruct."

Kaelen moved to the captain's console with practiced efficiency. His fingers found familiar control patterns, muscle memory from countless hours of simulator training. "Show me anything related to her recent navigation history, communications..."

Whisper, sensing his rising anger, transformed into a miniature, winged creature, its iridescent wings beating rapidly as it circled his head, a silent guardian.

"Aria, access Lost Echo's flight logs. I need to know their last known trajectory, their destination."

"Accessing flight logs. Last recorded destination: Ember. However, significant deviations from intended course detected approximately ten hours prior to communication blackout."

Ember. a mining colony built within the decaying husk of a massive, grounded exodus ship.

"Aria, analyze the data streams from the Lost Echo. I need to know everything. Every piece of information, every fragment of Valera's research."

"Analyzing data streams," Aria responded, "Significant data corruption detected. However, I'm able to reconstruct fragments of Valera's research logs."

"Kaelen." Whisper's voice carried an edge he'd never heard before. "I'm finding references to something... significant. A group called the Rust Claw Clan."

The name hit him like a physical blow. The Rust Claws weren't common outlaws. They were something worse - professional kidnappers, tech scavengers, former military operatives who'd turned their training toward darker purposes. But they were also selective, choosing their targets with cold precision.

Fragments of Valera's research began emerging from the encrypted data streams. Complex mathematical models of asteroid formations that didn't match natural patterns. Energy signatures that defied conventional physics. References to crystalline structures with impossible properties.

"Play her last log entry," Kaelen commanded, his voice tight with concentration.

Valera's voice filled the dead bridge, distorted but recognizable: "...the patterns in these formations... they're not random. The energy signatures match theoretical models of precursor technology. If these readings are correct, what we're looking at isn't just abandoned tech. It's a key to understanding their entire civilization. But there's something else... something about the quantum resonance patterns that suggests..."

As Aria began to piece together the fragments, a chilling realization dawned on Kaelen. Valera hadn't been on a routine survey mission. She'd been on the trail of something big, something that had attracted the attention of the Rust Claws.

"Aria, cross-reference Ember with known Rust Claw activity. Identify any potential hideouts, safe houses."

The AI hummed, its processors straining under the weight of the request. "Cross-referencing data. Potential locations identified: abandoned mining stations, derelict research outposts, and rogue asteroid bases."

Kaelen slammed his fist on the console, the sharp pain a welcome distraction from the gnawing fear that consumed him. He had to find Valera. He wouldn't let her disappear into the abyss. He wouldn't let her become another statistic, another victim of the ruthless greed that permeated the galaxy.

Whisper, observing Kaelen's growing frustration, shifted into a miniature, translucent eye that hovered near the data streams, analyzing the information alongside Aria.

Whisper then suddenly shot out to a console that was blinking slowly. She rushed back to Kaelen and then back to the console again.

Kaelen made his way to the console where a small screen displayed a list of locations. As he watched, a new line appeared on the screen. Astonished, Kaelen said, "Aria, Can you check this? I suspect this is a tracker."

"Yes, this seems so. Let me pull up the coordinates."

The hologram soon displayed a series of evenly placed points that lead from the Lost Echo to a new point that appeared on the display.

"Aria, begin plotting probable escape vectors based on their last known trajectory. Factor in fuel consumption rates for a vessel based on the details we know."

"Given their operational patterns and the local gravitational conditions, they most likely headed for the outer belt. There's a region of significant electromagnetic interference that would provide natural cover for a hidden facility."

Kaelen studied the projection, mind already formulating tactical approaches. The Rust Claws were professionals, but so was he. And unlike them, he had nothing left to lose.

"Download everything you can from the Lost Echo's systems," he ordered, already moving toward the airlock. "We're going hunting."