Immediately, the script branched. Three possible routes appeared, overlaid on the sector map like nerve endings. Route A: fast, exposed, through the Magellan debris field. Route B: slow, hidden, through the old comms tunnels—but those tunnels had collapsed last monsoon. Route C: a straight burn through the Torus gate, which required bribing a gatekeeper who had already blacklisted him.
A new message appeared:
He could decline. The script allowed it. Three taps, and the haul would recycle to another runner. But his debt to the Hub wasn’t measured in credits anymore—it was measured in favors . And favors at Komaru Hub had teeth. Komaru Hub Risky Haul Script
Three percent. That was the trap. Everyone at Komaru Hub knew: a cargo integrity failure meant the container’s black ice wasn’t insulation—it was instability . If it failed, the entire haul would go critical. No escape pod would survive the blast radius.
Jax stared at the screen for a long moment. Then he smiled. Immediately, the script branched
Some scripts aren’t about survival. Some are about proving you read between the lines.
Jax knew the rule by heart: At Komaru Hub, you never run a Risky Haul script without a backup. Route B: slow, hidden, through the old comms
The script pulsed. Then a new line appeared at the bottom, in a smaller font—the kind of text that gets overlooked until it’s too late.
He didn’t dump the container. He didn’t run.
Jax unstrapped from the cradle and walked out. Behind him, the cargo bay timer stopped at 00:01 and never reached zero.