The Obsidian Wraith coasted through the void on its standard FTL cruise settings, stars bleeding into threadlike streaks across the canopy. Ethan sat in the pilot's seat, posture relaxed but not idle. His fingers hovered over the interface as he updated his mission log. The entry was brief, neutral, procedural:
"Engaged and neutralized three Corsair vessels in Aldaron Sector, Mizanol System. Retrieved Federation courier in cryo-stasis. Followed standard protocol and initiated secure recovery handoff to Federation Naval Intelligence Response Division. No damage sustained. No classified material accessed. Returning to primary route."
He pressed SEND. The log entry zipped across their secure relay, flagged with Guild-standard time stamps and confirmation keys.
"Status on fallout?" he asked, still watching the log blink out of their relay queue.
Iris answered smoothly. "No flags raised. Your Federation trust metrics have increased by 0.6 percent. You now have Level 3 access to general contractor stations under Orion military jurisdiction. More importantly… no red markers."
"No trouble?" he asked, surprised.
"No trouble," Iris confirmed.
Ethan gave a soft, private exhale through his nose. This brush with high-level military politics hadn't turned into a minefield under his feet.
He turned toward the secondary console mounted to his right. A pulsing notification glowed in quiet green: a ciphered seal, dense with rotating hex-code layers, stamped with an Ashen Prime header and a signature string from Iris.
"Stealth core blueprint analysis complete," Iris reported, as if reading his mind.
Ethan straightened up. With a flick of his fingers, he brought the file to the central screen. Schematic data unfolded in slow spirals, holograms of interlocking components rotating above the glass.
His eyes scanned the patterns as layers unfurled: micro-phased energy dampeners, prism-fiber weave plates, adaptive hull contouring nodes. A triple-array system, designed to refract detection signals through adjustable light-bending and noise-nullifying protocols.
It wasn't just stealth.
It was surgical absence.
"Compatible with the Wraith?" he asked, already knowing the answer. The Obsidian Wraith had been built for precision operations and had a modular core rig that left room for plenty of growth. He had made sure of it when Raevis and her team worked on the ship.
"Fully," Iris replied. "The Wraith's central coil-mount will support the stealth system with only minor structural realignment. No fundamental rework necessary. However-"
He gave her the space to continue.
"We will require three materials not currently in storage: refined Tolarian glass-thread, triple-phase dampener mesh, and a Gryllex shard."
Ethan exhaled through his nose. "Of course. Always the rare ones."
Gryllex shards were rare, crystalline tech remnants formed during hyper-reactive plasma collapses in older war-era drives. Most ended up in military scrapyards or black market vaults.
"I know where to find one," Iris said, anticipating the next question. "The Avenos System. Within the Enover Sector. Civilian-grade access, but their homeworld's industrial foundry meets the tolerance and processing standards. Their last known activity log indicates advanced material fabrication capacity."
Ethan brought up the sector map. The Avenos System wasn't exactly a detour but it wasn't a direct path either. Their original route would've taken them straight through Enover to the Haltris Sector's relay without much deviation. This added a jump and a few days of drift travel, but nothing critical.
"Estimated cost?" he asked, though he already braced himself for the answer.
"Four million credits," Iris replied smoothly. "Pricing is based on open-market acquisition and processing fees. Avenos homeworld's facilities are reputable, but premium-tier."
Ethan grimaced but didn't argue. Four million was a heavy price tag… but survivability didn't come cheap. Especially not after what they'd just gone through.
His gaze shifted to the stars streaking past the Wraith's main viewport. Aldaron's outer systems were quieter now, their last FTL push having taken them toward the boundary line. Behind them: blacksite pirates, diplomatic secrets, ghost frigates. Ahead: time, distance, silence.
He tapped his knuckle once against the edge of the console, a soft metronome to his thoughts.
The memory of the Corsairs still itched at the back of his skull. Their immediate aggression. Their targeting priority. It hadn't been a skirmish. It had been a surgical sweep.
And if not for the Wraith's high specs and his own improvisation, they might've succeeded.
He rolled his jaw and narrowed his eyes. "I don't like being seen. I like being tracked even less."
"The upgrade will increase passive masking by seventy-three percent," Iris confirmed. "Total detection latency across active scans will rise by an estimated thirty-one seconds at standard drift."
"Which can be the difference between getting a read and getting a missile to the face," Ethan muttered.
He took a slow breath, then leaned forward and began entering new travel parameters on the nav interface. As he worked, the display shifted. Lines drawn between systems, adjusted course lines with one relay jump, plotted hyperspace drift sequences to Enover Sector, Avenos System.
It wasn't a detour anymore. It was a safeguard.
"Iris. Rechart course," he said. "Once we hit the Aldaron Relay and jump to Enover, redirect to Avenos. Lock the jump path, set FTL to steady-state cruising."
"Course set," she replied. "Estimated arrival in the Avenos System: 12 days."
Ethan rose from the pilot's seat and stretched, rotating his shoulders. A subtle pop echoed through the cabin.
"Let's do it," he said. "One upgrade won't delay us much. And if I can make the Wraith's stealth systems even more intricate…"
He trailed off, thoughtful.
But Iris, as always, understood where he was headed.
"You'll sleep easier at night."
He paused, then chuckled quietly. "Exactly."
A few steps took him into the corridor leading toward the central body of the Wraith. The lights dimmed slightly as he passed into the core hallway, the floor humming faintly beneath his boots.
The familiar thrum of the ship's heart, it was his sanctuary, his home, his weapon.
"Queue up a fresh combat sim later," he said over his shoulder. "Want to tweak a few vectors from that last fight."
"Already done," Iris replied. "I have recorded five key moments where your throttle correction lag exceeded predicted output. Would you like voice feedback during simulation or only post-analysis?"
He grinned. "Let's go with post-analysis. One dose of sarcasm at a time, Iris."
"Understood."
Behind him, the stars whispered by, quiet and brilliant. The course was set. The systems were stable.