He let go of the Keyflight. The cathedral faded, but the hum remained, a quiet song beneath his skin. He wasn't a grifter anymore. He was a conductor. And the Odyssey was his orchestra.

Elias, a grifter with a forged pilot’s license and a heart full of bad debt, had no neural lace. He had a splicer kit and a desperate hope.

The console was cold against Elias’s palms. Not the comforting chill of polished metal, but the dead cold of a system powered down for centuries. Above him, the derelict colony ship Odyssey groaned, its hull still weeping ice crystals into the void. His mission was simple: retrieve the black box. But the ship had other plans.

He found the command deck exactly where the salvage charts said it would be—buried under a frozen avalanche of insulation foam. And there, embedded in the central pedestal, was the Keyflight.