Page 1 of Salvaged By the Alien Pirate

Chapter 1

Neon Valkyrie

Anotherthrillingdayanalyzingtrade data for the Stellar Together Initiative. I suppress a yawn as streams of information scroll past my terminal interface, each value representing cargo catalogs, shipping routes, and resource allocations across the Orion Galaxy. The office around me hums with the quiet efficiency of other analysts, all of us packed into identical cubicles like specimens in a corporate terrarium, where instead of feeding time, we get quarterly performance reviews.

“Arden!” My supervisor’s bark makes me flinch. “Those Morcrest luminore reports were due an hour ago.”

I flash my best corporate-drone smile. “Just wrapping up those riveting manifests, sir.” Meanwhile, my neural implants hum with the hundred things I’d rather be doing—decrypting, data-skimming, slipping through firewalls like smoke. If he saw how fast the information scrolled across my screen, his eye would twitch, his jaw tightening like a vice. But admitting I could process it in seconds—not hours—would mean revealing theillegal upgrades wired into my skull. And that’s a conversation I don’t plan on having.

Though I try to concentrate on the tedious shipping manifests before me, the adrenaline of last night’s near-capture still courses through my veins. The files I discovered about the Black Eclipse are still encrypted in my cranial cache, burning like a secret sun. I should delete it. Forget what I saw. That would be the smart play...

But I’ve never been good at walking away from the truth. Not since I lost my parents to “accidental” engine failure on their research vessel—a tragedy which conveniently occurred right after they began investigating corporate corruption in the outer colonies. I was twelve. The official report called it a malfunction. My illegal dig into sealed records suggested otherwise.

So that’s what started it all—my first hack. Stealing those restricted files taught me two things. First lesson: information is power. Second: the galaxy runs on secrets. Now I spend my nights as Neon Valkyrie, breaking into secure networks and selling the juiciest bits to the highest bidders. And if I can dish out some justice along the way... well, that’s a bonus. It’s not quite the career my parents dreamed for their daughter, but at least I’m exposing corruption instead of enabling it.

The familiar anger rises, hot and sharp. I channel it into my work, scanning manifests with renewed focus. My fingers dance across the haptic interface, but my mind is elsewhere—in the shadowy corners of the dataverse where I excel. The hack from the night before revealed something bigger than my usual corporate espionage. The encrypted data suggests a connection between the Black Eclipse syndicate and high-ranking STI officials. The kind of revelation that gets people killed.

My throat tightens as I recall the last person who trusted me with their secrets—Kai, a brilliant, reckless hacker. We’d worked together, watched each other’s backs. Until the day I convincedhim to help me expose a weapons-smuggling ring. The job went sideways. He didn’t make it out. Sometimes I still wake up hearing his screams over our neural link as they caught him.

That’s why I work alone. Why I keep everyone at arm’s length. Caring is a weakness. Trust gets people killed. The STI may be the galaxy’s great unifier, but someone has to watch the watchers. If I can unveil what I’ve found—

Better me than someone who still has something to lose.

A priority alert flashes across my vision. New data packet, flagged urgent. I open it, expecting another tedious trade dispute.

Instead, my blood freezes as my neural implant flags unauthorized access to my personnel file. The information streams through my upgrades—someone with top-level clearance is combing through every detail of my life. But there’s something wrong with their gateway signature. My implants highlight anomalies in the encryption which shouldn’t be possible, patterns that don’t match any known STI security protocols. Whoever this is, they don’t just have clearance—they’ve somehow spliced themselves into the system’s root architecture. They shouldn’t exist.

My fingers hover over the holographic interface as another voice cuts through my concentration.

“Lyra, don’t forget the department meeting in five.” Daia, my well-meaning but chatty colleague, leans over my cubicle wall. Her iridescent Juntarian skin catches the harsh fluorescent lighting, sending blue-green ripples dancing across my display screen. The effect would be beautiful if it wasn’t giving me a headache. “They’re discussing the new security protocols so we can’t miss it.”

Perfect. Just perfect.

I resist the urge to run my fingers through my black hair, now pulled back in a severe bun that’s giving me a tension headache.The electric blue streaks I refuse to dye over are hidden beneath layers of corporate-approved styling. Just like everything else about me in this place—contained, controlled, crushed into an acceptable box.

“Thanks,” I manage, though my heart is hammering against my ribs hard enough I’m surprised Daia can’t hear it. As someone sifts through every detail of my life—education records, employment history, medical data—I’m stuck pretending to care about proper documentation procedures.

The meeting room is a steel-and-glass cage perched thirty floors above Orion Outpost, overlooking its gleaming spaceport. The view should be breathtaking, but my life is coming apart at the seams. I spend two excruciating hours perched on an ergonomically incorrect chair, surrounded by the gentle hum of environmental systems and the less gentle droning of middle management. Colleagues of various species fidget in their seats—several Juntarians’ shimmering blue-green skin particularly eye-catching against the room’s muted greys, while a pair of Rhilnars efficiently process reports with all six arms moving in perfect synchronization.

I sit through mind-numbing presentations about standardized reporting formats, my neural interface tracking the intrusion into my files. Whoever they are, they’re good. The access signatures keep shifting, bouncing through proxy servers across three different star systems. Each new trace sends a fresh wave of anxiety through me. It’s a truly sophisticated attack—one I might appreciate if I weren’t the one being hunted.

“Ms. Arden, perhaps you’d like to share your thoughts on the new verification protocols?”

I snap back to reality to find Director Voss’s beady eyes fixed on me. The Folmodian’s facial tentacles twitch with concealed satisfaction at catching me off guard. She’s had it in for mesince I corrected her coding error during my first week—a rookie mistake I’m still paying for two years later.

“I believe the protocols are...” I start, but Daia’s subtle hand signal catches my eye. She’s miming something about dual authentication. “...the dual authentication system will create unnecessary delays in processing time-sensitive data.”

Voss’s tentacles curl inward—a sign of displeasure. “Interesting that you find basic security measures unnecessary, Ms. Arden. Perhaps that explains your consistently late reports.”

A few of my colleagues shift uncomfortably in their seats. No one makes eye contact. Except for Daia, they’ve all learned to keep their distance—the weird human who keeps to herself isn’t worth the risk of getting on Voss’s bad side.

“I meant no disrespect,” I say, ignoring her jab, keeping my voice even, though my jaw aches from clenching it. “I’m simply concerned about efficiency.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll find an efficient way to implement these protocols in your department by next week,” Voss says. “You’ll be giving a demonstration to the entire floor.”

Perfect. Another chance for public humiliation. I force a polite nod while my neural interface flags another breach attempt. Whoever’s trying to get into my files isn’t giving up, and now I have this corporate power play to deal with too.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, most of my colleagues rush for the transit pods like escaped prisoners, eager to start their weekend. Daia hovers near my desk, her blue-green skin catching the last rays of sunset painting the sky in fierce purples and blazing oranges. She’s the only one who still tries to breach my constructed walls, despite my best efforts to keep her at a safe distance.

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