MIDNIGHT SIGNAL

The cargo bay rattled as the *Vega Dawn* exited warp. Outside, the debris of the ruined moonbase drifted like bones in the black sea of space. Rilo adjusted the settings on his pulse scanner, eyes scanning the holographic display for any trace of movement. “It’s too quiet,” he muttered, flicking his wrist to alert Cyra, his sister—and the best slicer in the system. Cyra appeared in the doorway, fingers already tapping away on her wristpad. “Security’s been fried,” she said. “If anyone’s still here, they’re ghosts.” “Ghosts don’t steal antimatter cores,” Rilo replied, strapping on his plasma gauntlets. The siblings moved through the remains of the station, past flickering lights and scorched metal. Every step echoed in the silence. Then, the scanner beeped. Movement—close. “Company,” Cyra whispered. From the shadows emerged a figure—masked, armored, and unmistakably holding a stolen EarthCorp tag. “This isn’t salvage,” the figure said. “It’s a war declaration.” Rilo stepped forward, shielding Cyra with his arm. “Then I hope you brought an army.” They didn’t. But neither did the twins. They had something better. Each other. —