An Hour in Ankat

## Chapter I: You're Not From Around Here

"Are you?"

The synthetic-sounding words bounced around his half-awake mind as his vision slowly came into focus. The frosted glass of the cryo-pod was peeling away, and he could feel his body warming up, motor functions returning. Outside, he saw the mostly empty interior of the shuttle.

His heartbeat began to quicken as realized what the words meant—someone had found him.

*Oh goddess, what do they want with me?*

A green light at the top of the pod began blinking: the signal it was safe to open and leave. A vaguely humanoid shape came into view at the far side of the shuttle, seeming to take notice.

He felt around his belt for the knife he had stolen. He held it close to his chest as the figure floated forward, weightless, a soft blue corona emanating from an indistinct head.

*No gravity. Oh no... I hope the air isn't gone too.*

They landed against the outside of the pod, and peered in at him, showering his face in warm blue light. His six eyes squinted away from it, and pointed the knife outward, ready to strike.

"You can put the knife down, I'm not gonna hurt you."

He remained still.

"I'm serious. You've lost the surprise, and even if you *did* manage to gut me and run, Captain Barsa Mona would track you down for it. Do you know who that is?"

He warily shook his head.

"Well then," the figure said. By this point, his eyes were adjusting to the light, and he began to make out a slightly humanoid face made of brilliant blue plasma—a Volydin. They were smiling. "You're going to need someone to teach you about these parts."

He gave them a half-quizzical, half-suspicious look.

They sighed synthetically. "Look, I'm going to let you out, but only if you promise not to stab me. Once you're out, it's your choice whether you make a run for it or let me help you get settled. Sound fair?

"Or I can reboot the ship's flight records, put you back under, and send you back wherever you came from."

As soon as they said this, his eyes went wide with fear, and he frantically shook his head. He held up the knife, point-down, and slid it back into its sheath.

"Okay! Out it is then." The figure reached for the external handle, twisted it, and floated backwards into the shuttle.

With a hiss and a billow of fog, the door of the cryo-pod swung open. The young Saviki, eyes still wide, slowly pushed himself out, stepping instinctively onto the floor—despite the lack of gravity—finding a tenuous grip on the metal plating. He was wearing a barebones scarlet and black exosuit without the helmet.

"Where... where am I?" he asked.

The Volydin floated to a nearby window. He could now clearly make out their appearance: they were tall, about as tall as him, wearing a weathered and utilitarian exosuit, with an engineer's toolbelt and a pistol holstered at their side.

"See for yourself."

The Saviki followed them, and peered outside. He was met with a now-familiar indigo and silver glow: Etherspace.

"We're in the Etherspace over the Ankat system," the Volydin said. "Nullsec space."

The Saviki nodded wearily. *Good, far from home. Very far.*

"Anyhow, I should probably introduce myself: I'm Recalitrant Nizanjri," the Volydin extended a hand, shimmering blue through the translucent glove. "What's your name?"

The Saviki seemed to consider the Volydin and their question for a moment, hesitating. Then he took their hand. It felt like sunlight on his palm.

"I'm Qurik. Qurik Cor—" he stopped himself. He was leaving that life, that *name* behind.

"Just Qurik."