Somewhere close to the Sun, in orbit around Mercury.

  Captain Manuel’s ship glides through the searing glow, confidently heading toward the designated coordinates. The Sun’s bright light cuts into the eyes, but for the captain, it’s just part of the game. He leans back in his chair, squinting at the gleaming holograms on the control panel. There’s anticipation in his voice.

  “Pietro, confirm our location,” Manuel says without taking his eyes off the screen. His tone is relaxed, but with a hint of impatience.

  “We’re approaching, Captain,” Pietro answers with a smug smile, clearly pleased with the successful execution of the mission. “Confirmed: we’re here.”

  “Activate the access codes,” Manuel commands, clenching his fist as if catching his luck in that moment.

  Symbols begin to flash across the central screen, and Manuel, feeling a tightness deep in his chest, watches the process intently. Suddenly, the shimmering camouflage flickers and collapses, revealing a dark silhouette against the Sun’s blinding brilliance.

  “Captain, it’s an autonomous container,” Pietro reports tensely, his voice slightly shaking with surprise as the object appears on screen.

  “We’re taking it. Now!” Manuel jumps out of his seat, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He heads for the control panel, his fingers nearly clenched into fists. The moment has come.

  The ship executes a sharp maneuver, weaving between solar wind and fiery plasma clouds. A manipulator arm extends toward the container, crunching slightly but moving smoothly as it pulls it into the airlock. The metal hull shudders from the light impact, but the container stabilizes and locks in place.

  “Cargo secured. Let’s go,” Manuel says, his eyes shining in the ship’s lights. He glances eagerly at Pietro and Maria. “Let’s see what surprise the universe has prepared for us.”

  The captain, Pietro, and Maria approach the airlock, tension thick in the air. Silence. The sounds of the ship’s mechanisms echo in their ears. The metal hatch slowly slides open, revealing... treasure.

  The container is packed to the brim with ergon. Its glow softly leaks through cracks in the casing, creating the sense that an incomprehensible force is sealed within.

  Manuel steps forward, eyes locked on the contents. His expression shows more than just satisfaction—it’s the look of a man who has just touched something far more dangerous and powerful than he ever imagined.

  “We’re... rich,” Maria whispers, stunned by the discovery.

  “Now that’s a flight!” Pietro exclaims, rubbing his hands. “Maria, you’re a genius. We wouldn’t have made it here without you.”

  “We have to celebrate,” Manuel says excitedly, his fingers rummaging through his pockets before finally pulling out a strange amulet. Silver, with an ornament that seems to pulse under the ship’s lights.

  “This is for you, Maria. A reward. From me, personally,” he says warmly, handing her the find.

  Maria takes the medallion and freezes, her fingers gliding over its surface.

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  “It’s... strange. Like it’s not from here.”

  “Exactly!” Manuel exclaims, eyes sparkling. “Scanners couldn’t identify the material. I’m sure it’s something extraterrestrial.”

  “Unbelievable...” Pietro shakes his head, still in disbelief.

  Maria carefully puts the gift around her neck. It adjusts to her skin as if alive, reaching toward her, sensing her biofield.

  “Beautiful. And... kind of warm,” she says with a smile.

  “I knew you’d like it,” Manuel says with a smirk and a wink.

  At that moment, an alarm wails in the compartment, shattering the calm. The entire atmosphere instantly shifts.

  “To your stations!” the captain yells, his voice hoarse with tension.

  All three race to the bridge. Total alert.

  “Weapons — combat mode!” Manuel commands, his eyes narrowing as he locks onto the void.

  “What’s happening?”

  “It’s the Inquisitors!” Maria turns pale. “They were tracking us under camouflage!”

  “They’re initiating contact!” Pietro shouts, his fingers nervously fiddling with the panel.

  “Patch them through!” Manuel growls through his teeth.

  A man appears in the hologram — solid build, in a perfectly pressed uniform, cold eyes, no insignia. His figure is sharply outlined against the backdrop of space.

  “Greetings, cosmic rescuers,” his voice is a mix of irony and threat, like a worn-out record. “I’m Captain Ragnar. The container you found belongs to us. Return it.”

  “On what grounds?” Manuel snaps, his voice defiant. “Prove it.”

  “It’s simple. We bought out the debt of the station’s owner. The ergon is ours now.”

  “According to corporate rules, the first to find the cargo becomes its owner. We found it — it’s ours.”

  “The station owner is a debtor. All debtor property is now the Inquisitor Syndicate’s. Give up the cargo peacefully.”

  Manuel narrows his eyes, his gaze turning cold. A few seconds of silence. Only the soft creaking of the ship’s mechanisms fills the void.

  “You’re threatening us — that’s a serious argument. No problem. Take it. We’ll jettison the container and go our separate ways.”

  Ragnar’s hologram vanishes. But Manuel is already in motion.

  “Maria, prep the jettison. But swap the ergon with junk. Pietro, on my signal — fire. Emma, take us straight toward the Sun!”

  “What?!” Both stare at him, not understanding his plan.

  “Order!” the captain barks, his gaze unshakable.

  Maria cries out, but her hands instinctively press the button. A container full of scrap shoots out into space. The hiss of vacuum mechanisms, then... silence.

  “Fire at the enemy!” Manuel commands, his voice cutting through the air.

  Pietro lifts the protective cover and slams the red button. The ship shudders from the powerful salvo, the sound of departing projectiles echoing through the hull.

  “Full speed ahead!” the captain’s shout blends with the roar of the engines. The ship tears into the void, leaving the enemies behind, heading toward the blazing Sun.

  On the enemy vessel, Ragnar nearly hurls his tablet in a panic. His glare burns with fury.

  “Damn it! These lunatics are diving into the Sun!”

  “Because we inspire fear, Captain,” his aide notes philosophically.

  “You’re an idiot,” Ragnar growls through gritted teeth.

  Meanwhile, the Inquisitor ship’s shields flare under the barrage, light ripples, and the hull groans. The crew feels the walls and floor creaking beneath them.

  “After them! Get that damn container! Fire!”

  A return volley chases Manuel’s ship, but the shields still hold. A whirlwind of attacks and counterattacks—all within seconds. Two ships—Inquisitors and rescuers—rush straight into the star, on the brink of survival, on the edge of fate.